Through The Eyes of Bea

By Samanthya Wyatt

How could a mother distribute her children across the county and then just walk away?

That was the question burning in Bea’s mind. All she could do was watch as her mother shattered her family and then just left. Bea may have been the oldest, but at thirteen, she was still a child. And now it was up to her to take care of her five siblings.

Through struggle and sacrifice, Bea embraced her unchosen responsibility. When her father brought in a cruel, selfish woman who didn’t like children, Bea’s undertaking became one of survival.

Bea’s story begins in 1925, during a time when things were hushed, private, hidden. Heart-wrenching memories of the incidents that happened in her home, and how she and her siblings prevailed. An accounting of grief, sorrow, strength, endurance and love in an era when America was struggling.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Samanthya Wyatt
• Release date: Jul 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005127046

Samanthya Wyatt

I love romance. In my younger years I read every book I could get my hands on. When I could not afford to buy them, I wrote my own stories. Then came the dream to write historical romance novels.Multiple award-winning author Samanthya Wyatt writes sizzling hot suspense. Intensely emotional characters with a deep passionate love for friends, family, and most importantly- the hero and heroine. She loves a good romance story and writes historical, contemporary, and a book of one family's struggle based on true life events..She left her accounting career and married a military man, traveling and raising her children in the United States and abroad, and now lives in the Shenandoah Valley. On a sunny day, you can find her and her husband driving on the Blue Ridge Parkway or going to car shows in their 1969 Mustang convertible. She loves long walks, and a book to read on a sandy beach. Starbucks is her favorite drink and she likes hearing from her fans.Visit her website to find out about her books and more.

Book preview

Prologue

A little farm buried in the Virginia mountains

Her family home.

Bea Baldwin stood unmoving, staring at the old two-story house where she grew up. The white boards had turned dull with age, overgrown bushes hid the fence around the yard, and it would take several trips with a lawn mower to cut through the tall grass. On the front side of the house, flowers had grown into weeds, some places so thick it would take a sickle to get to the steps. She smiled as she saw the porch swing, the only item remaining within the wooden railing.

Seeing the old homeplace made her smile some, but a twinge of sadness remained in her soul. Her family had been biologically connected, but the emotional turmoil scattered them all in different directions. Their hardships made them stronger. At least, that is what she believed. It was difficult to acknowledge the incidents of the past had led to a deserted farm.

Her mom, her dad, her sister and all of her brothers were gone—except one, and he’d made his home in Texas.

Every house had memories, stories to tell. She steeled herself for the emotions she knew would swamp her, and stepped onto the side porch. Pushing the past away, she inserted the key into the lock. A wave of nostalgia hit her as she crossed the threshold. So different, and yet the same.

A coal stove stood where the old wood stove had been. A couch lined one wall, the buffet cabinet on the other, and Dad’s secretary fit in one corner. To the left was the dining room with a large table. Many a night she and her siblings sat at that table doing their lessons with only an oil lamp for light. She could almost hear the sounds of the past, her sister and brothers, their play, their squabbles. Bitter sweet memories. Her eyes burned.

She didn’t come here to cry. But then, what had she expected? She shook off her dejection and turned to the right, heading to the main living area and stopped at the joined doorway. She ran her aged and wrinkled hand along the frame where the two houses had been joined to make one. The wood structure so strong it would most likely last a few more lifetimes. Her hand securely on the thick slat of wood for balance, she took the step up into the living room. A few photographs hung on one wall, the huge mirror suspended over the fireplace. Claw-footed chairs and an upholstered loveseat to match were tactically placed facing the fireplace.

One step to the right brought her to the doorway leading upstairs. She stood at the bottom of the stairway unable to force herself to climb the steps. Other than melancholy holding her back, she shouldn’t consider tackling those steps on her own. For her age, she was in pretty good health. No need to tempt fate. She’d had precious few broken bones and did not care to have anymore. Besides her girls would fuss.

She shuffled through the living room past a long sofa to her mother’s favorite rocking chair. She ran her fingers over the surface, smooth from lots of wear, then eased her weary bones onto the cushion lying on the rocker and rested her head on the wooden back.

Another wave of sadness ran through her as she mourned those bygone years. She’d heard so many stories. And she remembered a lot, too. But her growing up years were so confusing. So many things that just didn’t make sense. She thought about them now, trying to piece together the stories with her recollections. Flashbacks, memories, the past years rolled through her mind like a movie . . .

Chapter One

1925 Shenandoah Mountains

Jeremiah Baldwin shoved the windshield of his old Model T down with a bang. The wind whipping his hair, he focused on the curving road in front of him, his arms tense as blood pumped through his veins. The thrill of running the toll-gate increased his excitement—and anxiety. He only hoped he caught Hancock with his guard down. The man was never without a shotgun.

Get ready to duck, Harold.

Jeremiah, slow down. You gotta pay the toll.

I paid it coming up.

Harold was a big man with muscles of iron. If he gripped the dash any tighter, he was bound to leave dents in the metal. You’re gonna get us killed, he yelled into the wind.

Just hunker down.

As Jeremiah took the next curve he saw the gate barring the road. His shoulders relaxed a bit when he saw Hancock sitting on a downed log, his shotgun leaning to one side. Still too close for Jeremiah’s comfort. But Hancock wouldn’t really use it. Not on him.

Today, he didn’t have time to jaw and tease the man. He didn’t have time to explain why he needed to hurry. Maggie was heavy with child and this was their first. Another flurry of excitement hit his chest—this one so very different. He was going to be a father. He reared back his shoulders and puffed out his chest just thinking of a new baby in the house. Boy or girl, didn’t matter to him. When Maggie had told him, he could have danced on air.

Naw, he wouldn’t use his first born as an excuse to avoid the toll. He was a hard working farmer and money was scarce. He’d already paid coming up the dang mountain. Wasn’t fair he had to pay twice.

Jeremiah took the curve as fast as the automobile’s tires would roll. A mite too fast, especially with an iron bar stretched across the road and the car headed straight for it. He gripped the steering wheel tighter. Here we go.

Duck! he yelled.

He and Harold both hunkered down. He could only imagine the comical sight of the Model T driving under the bar with no driver. Even more funny would be the surprise on Hancock’s face.

As soon as they were clear, Jeremiah popped back up. He turned a glance over his shoulder to see an angry man with his fist pumping the air.

Watch where you’re going! Harold yelled. You’re gonna drive off the mountain.

Jeremiah laughed. He’d done it. It wasn’t long before Harold’s laughter joined his own.

Come on, now Harold. You weren’t really worried were you?

Harold turned, looking him dead in the eye. Your driving scares me more than Hancock’s shotgun.

He’d propped it to the side. He doesn’t use that gun on anything but squirrels.

How could you see anything with your head down in the seat? Harold shook his head as his lips curved into a smile. Haven’t had a thrill like that in a long while. Gets the blood pumping. He slapped Jeremiah on the back, nearly shoving him over the steering wheel.

Jeremiah kept his gaze straight ahead. Holding the wheel with one hand, he reached for the windshield with the other, and Harold helped him latch it into place.

Nice trick, that.

Jeremiah nodded, thankful the bar barricading the road wasn’t any lower.

So how is Maggie doing? She should be birthing that babe any day now.

Jeremiah’s thoughts turned to Maggie and her swollen belly. An image formed of her hands on her back as she waddled to the stove.

She was uncomfortable this morning. That’s why I’m in a rush.

Was she having any pains?

Some in her back. But she said her belly was fine. Still . . . He took the last curve just before the straight stretch of road. He pushed the gas pedal as far down as it would go. The wind in his hair only added to his excitement.

Well, man. You might be a father before the night is over.

The one-room schoolhouse came into view alerting him to the next junction—the road leading to his farm. Jeremiah took the turn so fast he thought the right wheels might have come off the ground. There was Harold, gripping the dash again.

You want to get home in one piece don’t you? asked Harold. And you still have to let me out at my place.

Unless you want to jump.

Harold’s head swung to face him. It might be safer than riding with you.

Don’t worry. I’ll get you home.

A few minutes later, Jeremiah spun the car in a circle in front of Harold’s house with dirt flying from the tires. Next stop, home. He wondered if Maggie would have their baby this night. He shot from the lane to the road, eager for the next turnoff to his property.

He didn’t realize how tense he’d grown until he gasped for air. Good Lord. Was he holding his breath?

His lips curved into a big smile.

I’m coming Maggie. I can’t wait to meet my son or daughter.

***

The last few hours had been harrowing, but Maggie had given him a fine daughter. Beatrice. A baby girl. Healthy. Blue eyes. Aunt Josie, the colored midwife, said all babies have blue eyes. That’s just not true. His little girl had blue eyes. The prettiest baby he’d ever seen. And she belonged to him.

Jeremiah and his grandfather, George Washington Baldwin, sat on the porch in silence. Most folks called him GW. Jeremiah called him Papa. The full moon streamed a silvery glow over the land casting the mountains in shadow. How he loved the evenings where he could relax and think of the day’s blessings. Crickets sang, and a few animals roamed the woods making their presence known. Yet, quiet centered around him bringing peace and contentment. He was happy with his lot in life.

The women were settled inside for the night. Often, he and GW sat in the evenings, just like this. They could sit for hours on the porch enjoying the silence night after night, letting the peace seep into their bones, allowing the calm to settle their minds. And when the weather chased them indoors, they gathered around the fireplace gazing into the flames.

With his pipe in his hand, GW struck a matchstick and brought the flame to the corncob end. Jeremiah watched the flame dance and flicker as GW drew air into his lungs. The tobacco torched and GW flicked his hand, dousing the flame out. Jeremiah studied his grandfather. Even without words, he knew the man had something on his mind.

He didn’t ask. No, that would be interrupting his thoughts. GW had fathered fifteen children and each one of them knew when to speak and when not to. Not only had the man taught them manners, he expected each of his children to show respect. And his children taught their children the same values. Life on a farm was hard work. He raised cattle, sheep, pigs and was the only blacksmith for miles around. Even though he was up in years, GW was admired by many, and the man was as strong as a bull.

Tomorrow, we take the sheep to market. While I’m in Stanley, maybe I’ll pick up a few things for Matilda at McNulty’s store.

His grandfather and grandmother did not display their affection for others to see. But the fact that GW wanted to pick up something for his wife was a sure sign he still had a fondness for the woman. Even after fifteen children together, although two died in infancy.

Several years ago, five of GW’s sons caught a train to Illinois. There wasn’t much for them to do around here. They had hopped in a railroad car like hobos, headed west to make their fortune. They got as far as Illinois. And it paid off. They each got a parcel of land to work. All the boys made a good life, married and had families, raising them on their new farms. Things sounded so good that a few years later three of their sisters and another brother took off to join their siblings.

Only three sons and one daughter remained—one of the boys being Jeremiah’s father. The girls who had hopped on a train wrote back and tried to get their little sister, Sally, to go, but she’d had her eye on a boy, and now they were married. Two of the brothers, Delmar and AJ, lived up the road with their own families. For years they had walked while herding their stock to market.

Sure is nice having a truck to drive. At his grandfather’s frown, Jeremiah quickly added, I’m not complaining, Papa. All that walking gives a man strong legs. It’s just that it took two days to go to Stanley and two days back. The last two years he’d been old enough to go along when they took their stock to Stanley. Papa drove a wagon, but the men had to walk with the sheep.

We spent the night at the relay station.

Yep, old man Martin and his grandfather were good friends. Still, we were up before dawn. Herding sheep and a passel of turkeys in the dark, hard to keep up with them all.

We did it for years and you done it for two.

You have to admit that going over and back in the same day sure is nice. We get a right smart number of sheep in the cattle truck.

Took business away from the relay station. Martin don’t cotton to losing a night’s lodgin’.

Years past, Papa would spend the night at the relay station. Now, even though they didn’t stay overnight, Papa still stopped to see his friend. Is that why you stop and give him your buckwheat?

Papa nodded. He don’t take no handouts. So he collects his part by thrashing the wheat and taking it to the mill. Then he delivers the seed, flour and feed for our livestock. Everyone has a hand in the process and he can still make a nickel.

They sat in silence for several moments before his grandfather spoke again.

Well, son, you got a new young’un. Makes a man right proud when his first is born.

She sure is tiny.

The tenant house is fine for now. Soon, you’ll be wanting to add a room to that cabin. He took a puff off his pipe, then angled his chin. Rings of smoke floated into the air.

Yer grandma and me been thinking. We’re gettin’ old, and a mite lonely at our house. When the time comes, I might be needing some help. I still got my shop and my blacksmith’s tools, but the farm takes a lot of my time. You got a contract with the Highway Department using your truck. But you’ve been a big help to me and your grandma. You work hard and I’m right proud of you.

Jeremiah’s chest lifted at his grandfather’s praise. Taking care of the farm was hard work. He was glad GW noticed, and GW’s commendation meant the world to him.

Like I said, me and your grandma will be needing more help. GW chewed on the end of his pipe. If you and Maggie move in with us, I’m thinking of giving a piece of this place to you.

Jeremiah didn’t know what to say. Sure, one day he expected to have his own land. Maybe inherit his father’s portion and buy some of his own. All kinds of notions spun through his head of the things he could do with his own land.

Mighty generous of you, Papa.

Generous ain’t got nothin’ to do with it. You’ve earned it.

Thanks, Papa. Jeremiah couldn’t keep the surprise and excitement from his voice.

Delmar and AJ already have their spots. Course, I think they’d rather be someplace else. Land belongs in the family. Pass it down from generation to generation.

When GW grew quiet again, Jeremiah tried to absorb the wondrous news, and allowed his mind to wander. Of course, he would take care of his grandfather. And he loved working the farm. He loved the land. The lower section belonging to his uncles was about the same size as the property up here at the house, give or take fifty acres. Plenty of timber in the forest, meadows for planting, game for hunting. Cows, sheep, pigs, guineas, chickens. Yep. He could make a good life for his family.

He wasn’t sure how much time had gone by when GW spoke again, wrenching Jeremiah from his thoughts.

What ya thinkin’, boy?

Thinking of all the plans I have for this place. I want to buy a cattle truck, Papa. Haul cattle to the stockyard. A lot of people don’t have a way to get their livestock to market. I could provide transportation. I’d be helping them and they would pay me to take their animals.

What are you going to do about the truck you use when you contract for the Highway Department?

I’ve got that figured out. I’ll hire a man to drive it. I’m gonna get a dump truck, too. May take a few years, but I’ll save my money, and I know I can make a dollar if I get more trucks. Bob Hiner could use a job, and if I get things going, I can hire more men.

GW gave a thoughtful nod. Thank goodness, he was willing to listen. Usually the older generation was set in their ways, but Papa seemed to like the idea. And Jeremiah wanted his grandfather’s approval.

Well? What do you think?

You’re a man now. You don’t need advice. Make your own decisions. He flipped the pipe over and dumped out the ash. Maybe your boys will remain and help you work the land.

That was the only reference his grandfather had made regarding his feelings of his children leaving the farm and making their home in another state. Maybe Papa wished his sons had stayed here with him.

Boys?

He and Maggie were bound to have more children. Lots of them.

Chapter Two

1933

The entire family had been up since dawn loading what they could carry out to the old truck. Bea was tired, but excited, too. With Grandpa and Grandma gone, the big house was empty. A section of their little tenant house had crumbled, so they were moving the remaining portion to the old dwelling on the hill. Dad said he was joining the two houses together. He said their family was growing and they needed more room. She had three brothers and Mama also had another girl, so Bea figured they didn’t need to grow any more. Although, it would be nice to sleep in a bed she wouldn’t have to share with her siblings. If you could call quilts on the floor a bed.

Mr. Heavener had made a real bed. Said he was giving it to them for her and her sister. Wood posts with straps to hold a mattress. Mama sewed some cloth for a feather tick and Bea helped to stuff it. She couldn’t wait.

Several of the neighbors had come to help. Horses snorted, men shouted and Dad made the kids stay in the big house on the hill, while he was smack dab in the middle of all the commotion.

Yah. Dad slapped leather across the horses’ backs. He had four work horses, but the team he drove now had the two browns with a smart splash of white down the center of their snouts. The harness around their necks placed the weight of the load onto the horses’ shoulders. It looked kind of funny, but Dad explained how it allowed the animals to use their full weight for added strength. The poor beasts would need all their muscles to pull the house up the hill. Their hooves pawed the ground while air puffed out through their noses. Bea was glad to watch from a distance.

Keeping the children out of the way, Mama had taken them on up to Grandpa’s house. With their noses plastered against the glass, Bea and her siblings watched the men work. Dad would not even let them stand on the porch. He didn’t want them in the way. If they were indoors, there would be no chance of someone getting hurt. When Dad spoke, they knew to listen.

Chains clanged as the men hooked the beasts to the huge logs tipping one side of the little house. A big tractor truck with lots of wheels had a long flatbed. The men slapped the reins on the harnesses, yelled instructions, and maneuvered the horses in turning the house. Bea propped Lucy up at the window so she could see. Together they watched the structure be pulled over logs onto the truck flatbed. At least the horses wouldn’t have to lug the house up the hill.

Bea’s breath caught as Dad swung a heavy iron gadget over his head, then slammed it down on a log. He was strong. All the men were strong. Looking at her father made her proud.

What are they doin’, Bea? Her little brother, Freddy, pressed his nose and his hands on the window.

They’re moving the house up the hill.

To Gammy and Gampa’s?

Yes. Dad is gonna hook that one to this one. She moved her finger pointing to the small shack and then held her hand out indicating the house they stood in.

Why’s he doin’ that?

So we can have a bigger house, cried Razz. He was older than Freddy, but younger than Charles.

Freddy looked at his brother. Is it gonna grow?

No silly, Razz answered. Houses don’t grow.

I’m not silly, Freddy rolled his bottom lip into a pout.

Mind what you say, Razz, Mama scolded. With the cabin hooked to the big house, we’ll have more space. You boys can have your own room.

Ya mean without girls? Razz asked.

Yes. Without girls, Mama gave him a big smile.

Know what the best part is? Bea asked her brothers.

What? Freddy and Razz chimed at the same time.

Your room is at the top of the stairs.

We got a room upstairs? I gotta see. The two younger boys bounded off, but before they got three steps, Mama shouted.

Stop right there! You have to stay in this room. I don’t want you boys out of my sight till the house is settled and that truck is not moving.

Aw, Mom. Freddy dropped his head. Razz just rolled his eyes like he always did.

Never mind that now. You’ll see soon enough. Mama herded Freddy and Razz back to the window.

Bea drew their attention away from their disappointment. We have two rooms upstairs. And me and Lucy get a big bed all to ourselves.

I don’t care if we are on the floor. At least there won’t be no girls, Charles said. Bea wondered when her oldest brother would add his two cents.

Freddy’s face turned into a frown. You’re not sleeping on the floor? Is your bed gonna be in the air? Like a swing?

Bea shook her head at her little brother’s imagination.

No. Mr. Heavener took tree logs and made us a bed.

Freddy turned to their mother. Like yours?

Mama nodded yes.

Can we have one, too? Razz jumped up and down on a chair next to the window.

Sit still, Razz.

How come Bea gets a bed and we don’t? Charles asked.

Cause she’s a girrrl, Razz said.

You boys are getting a bed, too, Mamma told Charles. You can have our bed. Me and Dad’s.

We’re getting Dad’s bed? Razz started jumping again. He whooped and hollered with glee.

Where you gonna sleep? Freddy asked. You and Dad gonna sleep with us?

No, we’ve got Gammy and Gampa’s bed.

Bea shook her head. Once Freddy got started, his questions were endless.

Know what? Bea stared down at her little brother. Mama and me made a new feather tick. We’ll put that on your bed and you’ll be real cozy.

When Lucy grew limp in Bea’s arms, she realized her little sister had fallen asleep. Which showed how long the brood had been standing at the window. They’re coming to the side, Charles yelled and took off to Mom and Dad’s new bedroom, Razz and Freddy right behind him.

Confining three rowdy boys in the house with so much excitement outside could only last so long. When the men stopped for lunch, the boys bolted out the door. Mama yelled and told them to stay away from the horses.

Bea skipped off the porch and went to find her dad.

I been to many a log-rollin’s, but this here’s the first time I hooked two houses together. Mr. Armstrong slapped leather across his horse’s back. Heave, you hulkin’ grazers. That’s it. Giddy up.

The animals are doing most of the work. We don’t have to split no logs or build the cabin. House is already standin’. Mr. Heavener stood with his hands on his hips and just stared at the big house.

At least we kept it in one piece. Dad slapped Mr. Heavener on the back.

You got the chain secure? Mr. Heavener called out to the truck driver. Then he stepped to the flatbed and grabbed some chains.

Let’s have a bite to eat before we hitch up the teams again, Dad told the men. Mr. Armstrong and another man led the horses over to the fence and tied the leads to a