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A Novel
by Kim Michele Richardson
"Papa's packed your .22 for the journey," Mama went on, fussing with the bulky leather-wrapped coat buttons, pausing to wipe away a tear.
I glanced at our mule, standing to the side and out of sight from the law, and spotted my rifle poking out of the rawhide scabbard.
"Take Junia and ride straight to Troublesome, and don't stop till you reach Miss Loretta's," Mama said, her voice thickening.
The next county over was thirty-some miles away, but with all the rough terrain, narrow mountain trails, and countless switchbacks, it might as well have been three hundred.
"Straight to Loretta's," she said again. "If you meet any trouble, find Devil John."
Moonshiner Devil John was one of Mama's old library patrons who also lived over in Troublesome Creek. He'd been visiting us here in the Cumberland for years.
"Mama, I love Retta, but she's got to be one hundred years old. How will she care for me?"
"Ninety-one, and you'll help out Miss Loretta, and she'll keep you safe till we can all be together again." Her words were swollen in grief, pained.
"Yes, ma'am, I will," I whispered.
"Listen to your mama, li'l Book Woman." Papa stepped outside, his bright eyes now troubled and dark. He raked his fingers through thick brown hair, peeked at the law's automobile, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "You need to hurry. He'll be waking up any time now, and we dare not let him see you here. Remember, your mama has sewn a little emergency money into the lining of your coat. Be gentle with old Junia, and she'll see you safely there."
"Ol' Junia never minds me like she does Mama," I said stalling. "Can't I stay just a bit longer—"
"We talked about this, Honey. Your mama and I have been accused of breaking the law. If the judge finds us guilty"—he stole a glance to Mama—"there will be a punishment."
I tugged on Papa's coat and squinted up at him. "But won't your lawyer fight it? What—"
"Shh. We have to be prepared. Slip on those gloves now," he said more sternly, more slowly, making me latch on to his every word.
If my folks were found guilty and taken away, the court could send me to the orphans' home until I turned eighteen or, worse, to the House of Reform where the children wear chains and toil from sunup to sundown on the farms till they're twenty-one.
"C'mon, Honey," Papa said. "Let's put the pannier on Junia and get you home to Loretta."
"Papa, what should I say if the law comes after me?" I glanced out at the automobile and pulled my gloves on.
"Right now they only know we have a daughter, but they don't know where you are, Honey, or what you look like. And they won't find you where you're going. Mr. Morgan shares the same office as our attorney, Mr. Faust. He's signed up with the courts to represent you and is working on the legal papers to get you a guardian. You remember Bob Morgan, don't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Just don't say anything except that you want to talk to Mr. Morgan if anyone asks. He'll help you."
I clung to Mama, afraid. That I could lose them both because men would punish my parents for loving each other was terrifying. And I knew somehow that going back to Troublesome was going to be troublesome for me.
"Mama."
"My darling daughter, you'll be safer there." Mama wrapped me in a hug. A moment later, she said quietly, "When we went back to your grandparents' cabin last fall to visit and clean the cemeteries, you'll remember we stocked the root cellar with food."
"Yes, ma'am, I remember."
"Your papa took some more victuals over last month. Key's in your pocket. Don't lose it. And you be sure and share everything with Miss Loretta." She gave one last hug, then kissed my cheek. "I'll send word when it's safe. If all goes well, you might be able to come home tomorrow at first light." She drew back and gave me a small, reassuring smile. "I'll come straight to you. I promise."
Excerpted from The Book Woman's Daughter by Kim Michele Richardson. Copyright © 2022 by Kim Michele Richardson. Excerpted by permission of Sourcebooks. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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