Zetta's Dream: An Appalachian Coal Camp Novel

By Sandra Aldrich

Zetta Berghoffer's dream of a sweet life is jeopardized when her husband, Asa, leaves to work coal so he can pay off their Kentucky farm. Determined to keep the family together, Zetta and their toddlers join Asa and her brothers at the Golden Gate coal camp just before Christmas 1922. She is eight months pregnant.

During the first week in the dismal camp, Zetta suffers fearful nightmares of cut trees and fresh dirt--Appalachian signs of trouble. Asa dismisses his wife's pleas to return to their farm, insisting their three-month stay will provide the $400 they need to give their children better lives. Disappointed, Zetta draws strength from her plump red-haired neighbor, Dosha, and the strong-willed granny woman, Clarie, who will deliver her baby. And each morning, she thanks the Lord they are one more day closer to home. Or are they?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandra Aldrich
• Release date: Oct 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463490136

Sandra Aldrich

SANDRA P. ALDRICH, a Harlan County, Kentucky native, is an international speaker and author or co-author of 24 books. Known for her Kentucky story-telling style of speaking and writing, Sandra loves the Lord, family and all things Appalachian. Eastern Michigan University granted her a Master of Arts degree, but she says life granted her a Ph.D. from the School of Hard Knocks. Currently she resides in Colorado Springs, Colorado, because of its lack of copperhead snakes. Well, that and the fact that her two grandsons, Luke and Noah, are also in Colorado.

Book preview

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Author’s Notes

Connect with Sandra

Dosha Conley’s Buttermilk Pie recipe

Glossary of Appalachian terms

About the author

Other books by the Author

Sandra’s Blog

Dedication

With gratitude for the encouragement from my Birthday Friends, who insisted I read the latest chapter at our dinners:

Libby Paddle

Mim Pain

Elizabeth Robinove

Mary Wells

Chapter 1

Zetta stopped the clock above the fireplace. With her fingers still grasping the cold metal pendulum, she whispered, No need to waste your pretty chimes in an empty house.

She ran her hands over her protruding abdomen and turned away from the cold fireplace. She smiled at Rachel, who sat on the travel satchel near the door. The three-year-old clutched her rag doll, her eyes wide with unspoken questions.

We’ll be back, honey, was all Zetta managed before her father strode in, carrying two-year-old Micah.

Paw Davis scowled and didn’t look at his daughter.

I got the crates in the wagon, he said. I don’t know why you think you’ve got to traipse off to that place. It was bad enough Asa got your brothers to go with him. He shouldn’t be wanting you to travel now.

Zetta ignored his comment, refusing to argue. Instead, she pulled her black bonnet over her hair, re-tied the wool scarf around Rachel’s head, then stooped awkwardly to pick up the small hickory basket holding her coin purse and hoe cakes and fried chicken from last night’s supper.

You and me have talked about this ’til we’re both tired, Paw. Asa misses us—and we miss him. He’s been down at that coal camp since he got the crops laid by. The youngins are gonna forget what he looks like. Besides, it isn’t forever. We’ll be back before planting time.

Paw touched his rough cheek to Micah’s pink face.

Well, I still wish you was waiting a week or two—at least ’til after Christmas.

Zetta shook her head. Now that would put the travel all the closer to my time. I’ll write you and Mama Becky as soon as we get there.

Paw made a sound that was close to a growl as he scowled again, but allowed his expression to soften as he gestured for Rachel to go onto the porch.

He picked up the satchel with Micah still clinging to his neck. Zetta took one last look around the room, straightened the picture of Jesus near the window and pulled the door shut behind her.

Outside, she stood for several moments on the porch, breathing deeply of the cold mountain air. The hills of Eastern Kentucky hovered over her little home like comforting sentinels. Asa had planted the pear trees on either side of the porch steps a few weeks before Rachel’s birth saying there was no better place for either trees or children to grow than in these hills. The next fall when she told him about Micah’s expected arrival, he planted two apple trees at the gate. Next spring, he planned to put out peach trees by the smokehouse in honor of the new baby. He had teased her, saying at this rate they would have the finest orchards in all of Magoffin County.

Paw settled Rachel and Micah in the middle of the wagon seat before holding out his hand to help Zetta climb next to them. As he pulled himself into his own place and gently slapped the reins across the mules’ backs, Zetta could tell by his set jaw he was through talking. The ride to the Salyersville train station would be without comment, but that would give her time to think about seeing Asa again—and enjoying his welcoming kiss.

Zetta studied the mules’ breath hanging in the crisp air as she folded the wagon quilt over the children’s legs. The chestnut trees stood by the lane, their bare branches framing the gray sky. Zetta tipped her head upward, remembering when Asa left the leaves had been thick, forming a canopy above his head.

Lord, you know all of us need to be together. Keep us safe as we travel, please—and keep Asa safe in the mines. And help the time pass quickly ’til we can come home, she inwardly prayed.

Before Zetta could add Amen, the baby inside her kicked hard. Zetta leaned back and rubbed her side. I know, honey. I don’t want to leave, either, she thought.

* * * * *

At the station, Paw wordlessly helped Zetta down from the wagon, then motioned for the baggage handlers to collect the satchel and crates of household goods, salted hog meat, canned vegetables and potatoes while Zetta bought one-way tickets.

The agent quickly averted his eyes as he noticed Zetta’s expanding belly beneath her gaping coat.

Hazard, huh? Your man working coal down there? he said.

Zetta nodded. Near there. Just ’til spring though.

The agent smiled. Five years ago, during the Great War, I was in France, he said. All I could think about was getting back to these hills. I hope y’all make it back safe, too.

Zetta started to reply, then merely nodded her thanks as he pushed the tickets and change of silver dimes toward her.

As she turned, Paw had both Rachel and Micah in his arms as they watched the steam hiss around the wheels of the train.

At Zetta’s approach, he jerked his head toward the third car.

I’ll carry the youngins on, he said.

He turned, leaving Zetta to take a deep breath and follow. Inside, Paw eased the children into the closest seat, patted his daughter on the shoulder and strode off the train without looking back.

Zetta didn’t dwell on her father’s abrupt departure but unbuttoned the children’s coats as the train began its laborious chuffing away from the station. Within minutes, Rachel leaned against her mother and soon was lulled to sleep by the rocking motion of the wheels. Zetta reached for Micah, but he preferred to stand by the dirty window, fascinated by the barren trees and brown hillsides sliding by.

For a while, Zetta watched with him as the familiar hills slipped away, but a knot began to form around her heart. Finally, she took a handkerchief from her sleeve and pulled Micah to her.

You’re getting your face all dirty against that glass, she said. Let Mommy wash it.

Reluctantly, the toddler stood at her knees as Zetta spat into a corner of the cloth and ran it over his face.

There! That’ll do for now, she said. Sit up here, and we’ll read Poppy’s letters.

As Micah dutifully clambered onto the seat, Zetta pulled several folded papers from her coat pocket and, mindful of nearby passengers, softly read aloud:

" ‘Dear Zetta Berghoffer, my dear wife. I write you again. I wrote last week and haven’t heard from you yet. Please write me often since I worry when I don’t hear from you. This letter leaves me okay. Hope all is well with you and the children. What have you been doing? I think about you all the time. I recollect how you’d smile at me when we was in school together. I like remembering the time you kissed me on the cheek after I kept the Allen boy from killing the baby bird that fell out of the pear tree. I decided right then someday I’d kiss your pretty lips. And sure enough I did. To this day I can’t pass a pear tree in bloom without thinking about that time. Sometimes I still can’t believe that pretty little girl grew up to be my beautiful wife. When the driver of the mantrip takes us into the dark of the mine each morning, I close my eyes and think it’s a summer evening. And after Brother and Sister are in bed, you and me sit on the porch and listen to the whippoorwills calling back and forth across the creek. It kills me being away from you, but you know I’m looking for that four hundred dollars to pay off the farm. I don’t like being beholden to anybody, especially somebody holding title to the land I’m plowing. I want our children to have a life better than I did. I want you and them here with me. Then we can go back home together come spring.

‘Well, I got $76.50 in my pocket now that I’ve been paid again. I have not spent much since I been here other than what the company makes me buy and my board and all. Did the Reed boys get the last of the corn in? I miss your cornbread. I miss your fried sweet potatoes. I miss Brother and Sister. I miss everything. Most of all, I miss you. Love your husband, Asa.’

Micah blinked solemnly at his mother, then rubbed his nose as Zetta smiled at him and unfolded another letter.

" ‘Mrs. Zetta Berghoffer, my dear wife. Was glad to get your letter, so I take the pleasure to write you back. Hope all is well at home. As for me, I’m okay, just working like a mule. I will be glad when this comes to the end and I can be home with you and the children. If I was back at our place, right about now I’d be finished with our butchering and would have all the meat hanging in the smokehouse. And come evening, you and me would sit by the fire and talk while you worked one of your quilts and I fixed the harness. Then I’d yawn and stretch and you’d smile that sweet smile and say it was bedtime. As I’d bank the fire, you would turn the lamp down. In the glow from the fireplace, I would watch you step out of your dress and pull your gown on before you take down your hair to brush it. And I’d put my arms around you and feel you all warm against me. Well, I reckon I better think about something else right about now.

‘A man quit his job down here, and I got it. Right now I make $4.80 on a full shift instead of the $3.50 I started with. The boys and me each pay the boarding lady $1.25 a day. She’s got five of us staying here. If you and the children was here, I could rent us a company house, and your brothers could pay us board. That sure would help us get the farm paid off. Think about what I said about coming down here. There’s a good granny woman here to help when the baby comes. Being with you and the children is the only thing that will suit me. I’m not satisfied now and won’t be as long as we are apart. Love your husband, Asa.’

Zetta leaned against the seat, picturing Asa bending over the paper as he wrote, his hair the color of creek sand and flopping across his left eye. She smiled, thinking about seeing him in just a little while. As she unfolded another page, she watched Micah rub his nose again.

She put the letters away. Your daddy sure is a good hand to write. And you sure do have his blue eyes. But I reckon you want your nap. First, let me get you some chicken. That cold breakfast wore off fast.

After a bite of fried chicken and half of a hoe cake, Micah fell asleep. Within a few minutes, Zetta tried to doze as well but couldn’t get comfortable in the upright seat. As she listened to the harsh grinding of the train wheels against the metal tracks, she pictured Asa, tall and blond and still fresh from his Saturday night bath, waiting at the Hazard station. She imagined him, one foot up on a wooden trunk, watching the tracks curving out of the mountains. She was glad they’d be arriving before it was fully dark.

At last, the conductor walked through the train, calling, Hazard next stop. Next stop Hazard.

Zetta eased Micah off the seat and stood the sleepy child before her, then gently shook Rachel.

Come on, Babies, she said. We’re about there. Poppy’s probably pacing the boards off the platform. Stand up now.

Micah blinked and yawned. As the train announced its slow approach with a series of short whistles, Rachel rubbed her eyes. Zetta could see the roof of the station ahead. Quickly she thrust the handle of the hickory basket over her arm and clutched a hand of each child, ready to stand as soon as the train stopped.

As the engine settled into the station with one final hiss of steam, Zetta could see Asa through the window as he rushed forward, almost knocking the conductor down as the man set a wooden step onto the platform. Zetta steered the children along the narrow aisle, her heart beating faster.

At the top of the steps, Rachel squealed, Poppy! Poppy!

Micah stared for a moment, then smiled in recognition and put his arms out. Asa swooped both children into his arms as Zetta carefully descended the two steps. Finally she stood before him, and he kissed her soundly in front of the other passengers. Then he nodded toward her bonnet.

Take that thing off for a minute, he said. I’ve missed seeing your Indian gal hair shining in the sun.

And he kissed her again before she could protest.

Her tall, dark-haired brothers, Loren and Luttrell, stood grinning by the mule-drawn wagon at the side of the platform, ready to collect the luggage and crates Zetta had brought from the farm. Both of them gave their sister a quick hug, patted both children on their heads and began to unload the crates from the baggage car. By Loren’s third trip with an overloaded crate, he paused to rub the jagged scar on his chin.

You musta brung every bit of food in the county with you, Sis, he said. I reckon you forget we can buy whatever we need at the company store.

Yes, and pay a war price for it, Zetta said. "Besides, this is better than any store-bought. And I wanted Asa to eat what he planted before he came off down here. Now you hush. I know you like my beans and cornbread. You can’t get that at your store."

At the mention of her cornbread, the brothers moved a little faster. As they stacked the crates, Zetta turned to look at the buildings near the train platform. Asa, with a child in each arm, watched her study the outlines of the nearby two-story warehouses. The muddy road that ran from the station into town was filled with mule-drawn wagons and an occasional motorcar.

It’s just ’til spring, Zetta, Asa said. Before you know it, we’ll be back on our own place. And this time it will be ours. Working another man’s ground darkens even the brightest day.

Zetta nodded. It was not the first time she’d heard this speech. Is the camp near here?

Well, not exactly, Asa said. We have a little ways to go. The train goes on to it, but you would have had a layover here. This way, I could see you sooner, and we’ll still get there about the same time the train arrives at Golden Gate.

Loren handed the last crate to Luttrell, who stood in the wagon to secure each one against the side.

Golden Gate! Now ain’t that some name? Loren said. "It’s called for the owner, Harold Golden. But Rusty Hinge would be more fitting."

Asa frowned at him. "I swear you’d complain if you was being hung with a new rope! he said. Come spring, you’ll have enough jingle to buy that piece of bottom land at Foraker and marry Sarah—if you quit throwing your money around. And she’ll have to put up with you claiming you mined more coal than all the rest of us put together."

At the mention of his sweetheart, Loren grinned as he reached for Rachel and Micah to hand them up to Luttrell. I reckon you got that right.

Zetta watched as her brothers settled into the wagon bed, each with a child held tightly on his lap. Only then did she accept Asa’s outstretched hand to help her into the wagon seat. As she watched him cross in front of the mules, she took a deep, ragged breath.

Chapter 2

With everyone settled, Asa climbed onto the wagon seat, released the pole brake and guided the mules onto the southwest road. He held the reins tighter as a motorcar chugged past, throwing mud and slush, then allowed the animals to set their own gait before he spoke.

Our section boss let me borrow the wagon, he said. So I thought maybe you could bake him a sweet later on to say, ‘much obliged.’ I hear tell his woman ain’t much of a cook.

Zetta nodded. It’ll probably take me a day or two to get used to the other kitchen, though, she said.

Asa watched the twitching of the mules’ ears then said, The house is costing $15 a week, but each of us was paying almost $9 staying at the boarding house, so this is better.

Loren snorted from the wagon bed. Wait ’til you see what the Rusty Hinge Camp is charging $15 a week for, he said. I’m surprised those old green lumber houses are still standing. And the stove ain’t nearly as big as yours back home.

For the first time since greeting his sister, Luttrell spoke. From his tone, Zetta knew his brown eyes held warning.

Loren, nobody put a gun to your head and made you come here, he said quietly. Now let Zetta be. She could conjure up a fine meal over a pit fire if she had to.

Asa ignored the interruption. This camp pays more than some of the others around here and don’t run Sunday shifts, he said. So as long as we load our quotas each day, we can do pretty good. On a full week, I work ten hours a day for six days and make $4.80 a day times six days, which is $28.80 a week, minus the cost of the supplies and the house—and that still leaves me with any place from $55 to $78 a month, plus what the boys will pay you for boarding.

The numbers swirled through Zetta’s head, and she had difficulty keeping them straight.

But as she waded through the arithmetic, she smelled smoke. Just then Asa pointed toward a hollow between two sandstone ledges. Dirty snow hung over the top of the rocks.

That’s our turn-off, he said. Pretty soon we’ll be at the camp.

Zetta coughed from the dirty air and turned to check on Rachel and Micah. Both of her brothers had opened their coats and pulled their shirttails over the children’s mouths. As Zetta pulled the handkerchief from her sleeve to hold across her nose, Loren spoke.

Oh, yeah, we’re getting close all right, he said. You can smell the coal dust from Rusty Hinge even before you see it.

Everyone was quiet as the mules pulled the wagon across a narrow wooden bridge deeper into the hollow. A dirty white building stood to the left. A sign with Golden Gate Store was nailed above the porch, but its yellow letters were faded and cracked. Straight ahead was a wide building that seemed attached to the mountain towering above its left side. The right side tapered into a narrow horizontal V over a shed, under which an open train car waited.

Asa gestured toward the structure. That’s the tipple, he said. That’s where the coal is sorted and washed and dumped into the cars for transport. It’s pretty noisy around there during the week. But you get used to it.

Zetta’s breath was coming in short little jabs despite the handkerchief at her mouth. She had never seen a building that large or that dirty.

Lord, this is worse than I imagined, she thought.

Asa turned the mules onto a narrow lane between several unpainted houses stacked so closely together their thin porches almost touched. He gestured to the far left.

Over there is Shucky Bean holler, he said. You probably can’t see it real good right now in the twilight, but the colored miners and their families live there. And up on top of the ridge ahead is Silk Stocking Row for the boss and owner. I hear tell they’ve even got water pumps right in their kitchens. The biggest house belongs to the owner, but he’s not been here since we arrived. The other house belongs to the supervisor, Edwin Gray.

Zetta barely heard him as she wondered how she was going to keep everyone clean.

Asa’s command of Whoa! interrupted her thoughts. Well, here we are, he said. Here’s our home for the next three months.

As Asa jumped down to tie the mules’ reins to the banister, Zetta fought a panicking wave of homesickness.

Asa came around to help her from the wagon, then reached up as Luttrell handed first Rachel, then Micah, down to him. He led them onto the porch and had just started to open the front door when a shrill whistle blasted the air.

Rachel and Micah burst into tears, but Asa bent down and pulled their heads to his chest. It’s okay, Babies, he said. Poppy’s here.

As the whistle faded away, Asa turned to Zetta. That’s the call for the afternoon shift.

Zetta’s hand was over her heart. You mean to tell me that noise starts up at every shift?

Asa nodded. Afraid so. But you’ll get used to it.

I don’t know about that.

Remember, we’ll leave as soon as I get paid the last day of March, he said. Keep thinking of that four hundred dollars.

Zetta looked around at the rows of unpainted houses covered with coal dust. March thirty-first suddenly seemed an eternity away.

* * * * *

The winter sun was beginning to disappear behind the mountain, so Asa stepped into the house and lit the kerosene lamp on a small table near the door. Then he held it high and gestured for the others to enter. Inside, it didn’t take Zetta long to inspect the house. From the front porch, they stepped into a small curtainless room holding a few straight-back chairs. The two walls facing the outside were covered with overlapping newspaper and magazine pages that formed crude wallpaper.

Loren pointed to the pages on the walls. See what I mean about green lumber? he said. Houses need more than paper to keep the wind out.

Zetta ignored him as she glanced at the unpainted, warped floor boards and thought of her own front room with the braided rugs against the smooth dark green painted floor.

Asa’s forced cheerfulness interrupted Zetta’s thoughts as he gestured toward two small bedrooms on the right.

The boys will sleep in the second one, he said. Ours is closer to the kitchen.

Still holding the lamp, he pulled Zetta to the first doorway.

See? This is our bed, he said. Sister and Brother’s bed is right next to ours. As soon as we unpack your quilts, it’ll be just like home.

Then Asa motioned toward the lidded graniteware behind the door.

I bought a new chamber pot for you and the children, he said. Since you’re in the family way, I’ll empty it each evening.

He pointed beyond the back door. The boys and I will meander up the lane to the outhouse.

Zetta nodded, then turned toward the kitchen, which was beyond the front room archway. The worn cook stove, accompanied by a full coal bucket and kindling box, leaned toward the corner. A small galvanized bathing tub hung on the wall nearby. A square table and more straight-back chairs were positioned near the dingy window. Beside the table was a narrow bench holding two large gray enamel dishpans and a filled water bucket. That’s where she would wash the dishes, which would be stacked on open shelves nearby. To the right of the bench was the door leading to a tiny porch. Even in the dimming light, she could see a grassless yard. Crushed shale kept the winter mud at bay.

Asa gestured toward three large cloth sacks in the far corner.

See? I already got flour, sugar and cornmeal for you, he said.

As Zetta studied the kitchen, Loren spread his arms. Well, here you have it, Sis, he said. What more can any coal miner and his family want?

Asa scowled. Why don’t you and Luttrell start unloading the wagon instead of working your jaws, he said. I’ll be along directly.

* * * * *

Even as tired as she was from the trip, Zetta straightened her shoulders and took charge of the unpacking.

Luttrell, whilst I get the fire going, bring in the can goods first—the crate with the sack of dried apples on top, she said. Loren, bring in the dish barrel so I can get us fed. Then stack the vegetable crates over here next to the wash bench.

Asa started toward the door, but Zetta gestured toward a chair at the kitchen table. No, Poppy. You light another lamp and sit right here and keep the youngins from under foot, she said. Besides, I’ve missed your sweet face.

Loren shook his head. How can you call that ugly face sweet? You can’t even see it, what with those big ears.

Zetta kissed Asa’s cheek before answering. Loren, you sure are mouthy for somebody who’s hoping for more than one piece of cornbread.

Can’t argue there, Loren said. You’re the cook.

He reached for the first lamp as Asa lit the one on the kitchen table.

Let me have some light for the porch, Loren said. I don’t need to be banging my legs dragging heavy crates up the steps.

Asa handed him the lamp then sat down at the table and pulled both children onto his lap.

He crossed one leg over the other and slid Micah to sit on the upraised boot. Here, Brother. Ride the horsey.

As the toddler giggled with each bounce, Rachel leaned against her daddy’s chest, reaching up to pat his clean-shaven face every few moments.

How’d the butchering go? Asa asked. I sure hated leaving that up to you.

Zetta shrugged. It was fine, she said. "Jim Reed brung his boys early and stayed all day. I offered him the usual fourth of the good meats, but all he would take was a ham for Christmas. I reckon he’s never