Menace at Mammoth Cave. Mary Casanova
riding a mule bareback near a flock of white sheep. “She just turned sixteen. I swear, if she had her way, she’d have been born a lamb. She loves those sheep.”
Dorothy Ann waved back, dark curls draping her shoulders.
Before long, a horse-drawn wagon pulled into the driveway. “That’ll be the men. Now we can eat,” Miss Pearl said with relief.
Everyone gathered in the dining room, which was wallpapered with tiny blue flowers on a white background. Kit’s stomach rumbled with hunger. The table brimmed with smoked ham, creamed peas, corn biscuits, and sliced cucumbers and tomatoes.
Kit sat across from Dorothy Ann, who glanced up with a shy smile. Next to Dorothy Ann sat her brother JJ, a good-looking seventeen-year-old whose auburn hair dipped toward one eye.
Mr. Thatcher, Miss Pearl’s husband, a short, wiry man, finished a prayer of thanks, and everyone began passing plates. Charlie handed a plate of ham steaks to JJ, who stabbed a slice with the serving fork.
When a man with rusty-looking teeth and thinning gray hair stepped in from the kitchen, Miss Pearl introduced him. “This is our guest, Mr. Henry.”
“Pleased to meet you. Sorry I’m late, ma’am,” he said to Miss Pearl as he took the empty chair.
“And where do you live, Mr. Henry?” Aunt Millie asked.
“Lost my place a year ago,” he said, meeting her eyes. “Home’s at the next place yonder that’ll have me. In return for food and lodging, I make baskets—the finest white oak baskets around—and repair broken seats on cane chairs. I stay with folks for a bit, then move on before I turn moldy.”
Kit studied Mr. Henry. Back in Cincinnati, she’d met boys and men who’d lost their jobs and homes during the Depression. She’d also brought food to some of the women and children living in the makeshift hobo camps below the railroad bridge. But unlike the hobos, who hopped on trains and traveled from town to town in search of work, Mr. Henry seemed content to stay in the area and take what work he could find.
“We’re honored to have you.” Mr. Thatcher nodded at Mr. Henry. “Got to count our blessings. We haven’t felt the boot of the Depression like some folks. Here, with our orchard, cows, pigs, chickens, and plenty of canned goods—thanks to Pearl—we’re never hungry.”
“Our farm’s a little pocket of heaven,” Miss Pearl added, tears suddenly filling her eyes. “Or it was, until the letter came.” She pressed her napkin to her lips.
“Letter?” Aunt Millie asked.
Kit’s ears perked up. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Charlie’s gaze drop to his plate. He let out a soft breath.
“The letter. Arrived a week and a half ago.” Miss Pearl held her shoulders back, but her voice wavered. “We’ve known since we sold the farm last year that we’d have to leave one day. But the letter from the park service was our final notice. It said we had twenty-one days to leave our property. This time it’s an order.”
“And go where?” Kit blurted.
Aunt Millie gave Kit’s hand a squeeze, as if to say leave this to the adults.
Mr. Thatcher pushed back from the table. “I’m lookin’ for a place here in Hart County, outside park boundaries. If I can find one. They’ve paid us fairly enough for our property, but money’s no good if it can’t replace what we’re losing.” Then he stepped out the kitchen door and was gone.
“My Jesse hasn’t been taking it well,” Miss Pearl said. “He’s taken to walking nights when he should be sleeping. This farm has been in his family for generations. It’s all he’s ever known.”
JJ spoke up. “Pappy’s been knocking on every door beyond the park. It’s not easy finding something close by when so many families are in the same bind.”
“Oh, Pearl,” Aunt Millie said, rising from the table and placing her hands on her friend’s shoulders. “We came at the very worst time. We’ll turn around and leave first thing in the morning. I’m just as sorry as an empty stringer of fish!”
“Millie,” Miss Pearl said, standing and facing Aunt Millie, “I’ve known about the farm since before we invited you. I didn’t tell you because I thought you wouldn’t come down.”
Kit couldn’t hold herself back. “We leave here on the twenty-eighth of August. So that means you have to leave your farm the very next day?”
Miss Pearl nodded.
Aunt Millie’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Pearl, we don’t want to be a bother.”
“Don’t you dare turn tail, Millie. I couldn’t wait to see you, and now that you’re here, you simply can’t up and leave. Y’hear?” She bowed her head, paused, and looked up again. “Besides, I pretended this day would never come. But now…I truly must start packing. I could use your help, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Mind?” Aunt Millie said, as if waving away a pesky mosquito. “That’s what friends are for!”
Dorothy Ann peered up from under her dark bangs. “On top of everything, Gran-mammy is ninety-three years old, y’all, and feeling poorly.”
“Speaking of Gran-mammy,” Miss Pearl said, “I’ll see if she’s ready for some dinner.”
Dorothy Ann jumped up from her chair. “I’ll go.” She filled a plate with food, then headed toward the sewing room.
“That girl loves her gran-mammy,” Miss Pearl said softly. “I love to sew like Gran-mammy, but those two are peas in a pod. Gran-mammy taught Dorothy Ann everything she knows about tending sheep, carding and dyeing wool, and spinning.”
“I have experience helping elderly folks,” Kit said. Back in Cincinnati, she’d helped Miss Mundis, her Uncle Hendrick’s next-door neighbor, when she fell and needed extra care. And she continued to help Uncle Hendrick at his big house, even though he was the grumpiest person in the whole world. “I’m happy to help with Gran-mammy if I can.”
“Thank you, Kit,” Miss Pearl said with a warm glance. “We appreciate that kindly.” She exhaled deeply before going on. “Right now I think the best medicine for us is some music. JJ, before Charlie returns to Maple Springs, will you play us a few tunes?”
JJ turned to his mother with a nod. “Yes, ma’am.” But as he stood, eyes gray as storm clouds, he shot Charlie a glance.
Kit recognized that look. It was the same one she’d seen earlier in the day when she’d waved to people from the truck. No one had waved back. Their faces were grim, like tombstones etched with two words: Go away!
Kit speared the last bit of ham on her plate and chewed it without tasting it. She couldn’t blame JJ or anyone else for not wanting to leave their home. But it wasn’t Charlie’s fault that this area had been chosen for a national park. No matter how angry people might be, it wasn’t right to take out their feelings on the CCC workers, especially not on someone as good-hearted and hardworking as her brother!
…
While Aunt Millie and Miss Pearl washed the dishes, Kit carried a cup of chamomile tea to the sewing room for Gran-mammy.
“Oh, thank you,” Dorothy Ann said, rising from the chair beside the twin bed. “Gran-mammy, we have a visitor, Kit Kittredge. She’s the niece of Mammy’s old friend Mildred. They’re visiting for a spell. Look, Kit brought you a cup of tea.”
Gran-mammy’s pale green eyes were surrounded by dark circles. “Well, aren’t you a dear,” she said. “Where did you come from?”
“Cincinnati,” Kit said, quickly adding, “ma’am.”
“Here, Gran-mammy. Let me help you sit up,” Dorothy Ann said, scooting an extra pillow behind her grandmother.
From the living room came