Copper Chameleon

By Allison Lynne

Ann Marie Ward finds herself alone in the world after her father’s death. His adoration has become her downfall when she finds herself responsible for the bills and expenses he left behind. In the small town of Copper Basin Tennessee, there aren’t very many options. The isolated township is resistant to high ideas and change, so Ann Marie finds herself adopting her childhood nickname of Blaze, masquerading as a young boy, and working in the only productive trade in the area- the copper mines.

Dirk Bergmann, educated in Germany and fostered by the mine owner of the area, has been instructed to move to the Copper Basin to see if he can increase copper production. He is looked upon as a foreigner and the locals do not welcome his newfangled concepts, especially one young man with an attitude problem and hygiene issues.

A simple assignment escalates into a nightmare when dynamite is introduced to the old timers and an accident follows, injuring the boy.

But things are not always as they seem.

This is a sweet novella of approximately 20,000 words

• Language: English
• Publisher: Allison Lynne
• Release date: Jan 13, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311039385

Allison Lynne

Allison Lynne lives with her family in Tennessee. She describes herself as "Unapologetically Me" and feels that normal is just a setting on the dryer. Allison fully believes that great things happen in very small moments, and the stories she writes are just that: A moment of magic in time. Her stories are suitable for older teens, young adults, mothers, grandmothers and beyond!

Book preview

Copper

Chameleon

Published by Allison Lynne

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 Allison Lynne

Behave like the chameleon: look forward and observe behind.

– Malagasy Proverbs

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance or similarity is purely coincidental.

Julius E. Raht was an actual living person and was a true mining pioneer of the era. His life has been fictionalized to embellish the story.

Copper Basin, Tennessee 1872

Ann Marie Ward stepped into the cool shade of the small weathered cabin. Releasing a deep breath, she eyed the large brass tub occupying most of the far right corner of the solitary room she called home. As weariness crept into every bone in her body she immediately discarded any thoughts of using the large ornate reservoir. She refused to even think about carrying the many heavy buckets of water to fill it. She couldn't even imagine the sweltering heat from a fire if she wished for warm water. Running her hands through her shoulder length hair, a color so much like the shade of the precious copper painstakingly obtained from the local mines, she winced as her fingertips came away encrusted with grit.

Ug! She groaned aloud in protest of the grime caking her scalp, and absentmindedly twisted the short locks around her finger. They stayed just as that, a matted curl, molded by sweat and red clay dirt. To the creek it is, she barked with more enthusiasm than she really felt. A lazy tabby striped feline lounging on her bed opened one eye and yawned before settling back into a comfortable position. Tiger, boy, you would feel the same way if your fur were this dirty. I swear there is more red clay dust in those mines than all of the state of Tennessee, I think!

While grabbing her wrapper from its place on the wall, her hand gently brushed the longer portion of her locks hanging on the adjoining peg and not from her head. She sighed with a twinge of regret. It had been painful to cut off her hair. Ralph Williams, a dear man she considered a God Uncle, had concocted the hairpiece from the cut length, artfully securing the loose end with twine into a ponytail attachment. At least she could wear hair on Sunday for church! At least when she wasn't working, she could be herself! At least... She stopped her fruitless train of thought as it had all been very, very necessary. She thought back to the day of that fateful decision.

Blaze, He began by calling her by her childhood nickname, It ain’t quite the same I know, but at you can wear this ponytail to make ya feel better until ya can grow it back out. I know ya Pa would have had my hide by letting ya cut it off. It were his pride and joy, it was. It was like your Mama's hair. His voice became a bit sterner then. But I'll not be in total agreement here with you working for that rich man Bergmann and all. Your Pa would have more than my hide if something happens to you in that mine. It ain't right. He wanted you to be raised a gentle woman. Your Pa did everything in his power to bring you up as such. Your Mama would have liked that, rest her soul. He wanted you to be every bit as educated like her, as if you were one of J.E. Raht's daughter's herself. He referred to the wealthiest family in the area. And what ya gonna do if Bergmann finds out?

Jolting back to the present, a tear slid down her filthy face, leaving a trail in the dust on a lightly tanned cheek. Her Pa. He was probably rolling over in his grave right if he knew all the events that had taken place since his death. She knew Ralph was right. Her father had forever mourned the loss of his fair copper-haired wife who had died in childbirth trying to give him a son. This left him a broken man, living only to dote on their child, albeit a female. He had adored her hair which had never been cut. He lavished his life blood and earthly riches on her, sparing no expense despite his meager miner’s income and beyond for her education and needs. The townspeople considered him foolish because it was a firmly held belief that an education was wasted on a woman. The only reasons he was not shunned as an outsider was due to his outgoing, friendly nature and his superb furniture making skills. He was always there for anyone who asked to lend a helping hand or to fulfill a household need. He could take a worthless heap of scrap wood and create a functionally exquisite item fit to grace the finest of homes, then he would sell it for almost nothing. To her knowledge, he never turned anyone away. When Ann was old enough to question his generosity, he stood by his actions. Blaze Ann, kindness has no price. These people have fallen on hard times like us. It’s just the way it works. One day, we may need their help.

Yet that help never arrived as his kind-heartedness was quickly forgotten and his adoration had become her ruin. Creditors quickly descended upon her for unpaid loans. People who had often asked for his helping hand now cornered her with outstretched palms demanding payments. She sadly recalled how she had been forced to sell everything to cover the debts he incurred because of her, including the