Lost Cove

By Charles Jackson

The story takes place between the years 1926-1946 and is written in the language of the mountain people of that time and those with the beautiful Southern drawl from the Deep South that moved into the area. It is a return to the times that use to be, but will never be again. Two families, the Kidwells from Alabama and the Wilsons from Tennessee and Ohio move into a small town deep inside the Great Smokey Mountains called Hamilton, Tennessee, from different backgrounds and for different reason, but with only one motive, to make a new life for themselves. The children grow up sharing lifes experiences with each other and their newfound friends. Love, marriage, births, disappointments and death become a part of their lives. The loving parents struggle with the hardships of a deep depression that gripped the country at that time. With the onset of World War Two many changes come into their lives, some good, some bad, but they would survive because they already knew what hard times were like. The Kidwells from Alabama are loggers that come into the Cove to harvest much needed timber for their Company. The Wilsons move back to Tennessee from Ohio to get away from the harsh winters that cut into their earning power as carpenters. The Patriarch of the Wilson family must give up his work as a carpenter for health reasons, buys a small farm and returns to his younger days as a tobacco farmer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 22, 2007
• ISBN: 9781462840014

Book preview

LOST

COVE

Charles Jackson

Copyright © 2007 by Charles Jackson.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

39451

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Dedication

I dedicate Lost Cove to my Mom and to all my friends and

family that have given me so much encouragement and Support.

Lost Cove actually exists and is located at the base of Flat Top Mountain along the Molichucky River in Yancey County, North Carolina bordering on the Tennessee State line. To this day there still remains signs that people actually lived in this desolate place. Collapsed houses, standing chimneys and cool mountain springs tell a story of the loggers and their families. Although they may have stripped the land of its trees at that time, Mother Nature has regained what was lost and is now as lovely as before. The story and characters in the book are fiction and do not reflect in any way on any person that made their home in Lost Cove.

1

Fox, Alabama, November 15, 1926

THE NIGHT TEMPERATURE HAD DIPPED into the low twenties with sunrise causing a sudden rise in the heat index to the low thirties, making road conditions treacherous with black ice. Powdery, light snow fell in circular patterns, the wind blowing at twenty miles per hour and gusting. The wind-chill made it seem even colder, the sky heavily overcast but with a high ceiling. The possibility of snow still lingered.

For people who had to be outdoors, the coming hours promised a rough day, except for the loggers who didn’t seem to mind. Frozen ground made moving large felled trees much easier, and their jobs never ended. Icy conditions were everyone’s enemy but—properly dealt with—nothing that couldn’t be handled.

William C. Singleton (Bill to his friends) stood in his living room sipping a cup of hot coffee and straining to look out the window at the powdery snow being blown over his lawn by an errant wind. Jack Frost had kissed the glass panes with countless little frosty designs that greatly reduced visibility to the outside. He had just returned from a long and tiring trip the evening before and was anxious to get to his office. Bill Singleton had been the owner and president of Fox Logging and Lumber Company for the past five years, having taken control upon the unexpected death of his father. As he gazed through the frosty panes, he was thinking back, remembering the stories he had been told to him by his grandfather and his father.

Originally, on or about the year 1790, Bill’s grandfather, Major Karl D. Singleton had received a land grant of some five thousand acres of virgin land any place east of the great river in payment for the part he played during the American Revolution. The major never moved to stake his claim on this grant; instead, he passed it on to his only son, Joseph C. Singleton. Just prior to Alabama becoming a state in 1819, Joseph Singleton, along with his wife and one daughter, made his move to stake his claim according to the land grant. Arriving at a place east of the great river, he declared to his family that this would be the place where they would start their new life. It was of beautiful mountains with a level valley stretching for miles. There was a small river. Two small streams being fed from cool springs that could be a source of pure mountain drinking water. It was a wild but lovely place that he felt could be made into something great. He cleared the land, built a cabin, and started farming in order for his family to survive during the coming winter. Their nearest neighbor was a day’s ride by horse and wagon to a small settlement known as Huntsville, which they would visit two, maybe three times a year for supplies. Life was hard but somewhat rewarding, and with hard work and lots of faith, they survived.

When Alabama became a state, it was ordered that all land grants be registered and surveyed, which Joseph Singleton did without question; and when asked what was the name of his little settlement, he faltered for a few minutes remembering that the first living thing he saw when he arrived was the red-tail fox. Foxville he wrote on the paper, and from that day on, his grant was listed as Foxville. His wife, Margaret Grace, and his first daughter, Elizabeth Ann, kidded him about the name; but he only laughed it off. His second daughter, Mary Kate, was the firstborn of the newly named settlement in a newly established state of the union.

Life wasn’t easy, but they all worked hard to raise food for themselves and their farm animals, plus cotton to sell at the market in Huntsville. News was scarce except when a rider would pass by, leaving weeks-old papers or what they learned on visits to Huntsville. It was the first day of June 1861 when a rider approached along the rutty dirt road leading to their cabin. Joseph Singleton met the rider, and they talked. Shortly after he returned to the cabin, he announced that a war had started between the North and the South and that all able-bodied men were required to report to Huntsville. Being the kind of man he was, Joseph Singleton saddled his riding horse, gave his family instructions, picked up his musket, and rode off to war. It was almost three years to the day he left when he rode up the rutty dirt road to see his family. He had risen to the rank of colonel and had been wounded, wounded enough to be discharged and relieved of his military duties.

After a short rest, Colonel Singleton resumed his duties as head of the family and began farming and raising cotton. His family had done well considering the circumstances in his absence, and he was most proud of all three of his ladies. Two years and six months after his return, a son was born to the Singleton family, and they named him William Cody Singleton, and with him came a new change to the entire family. Colonel Singleton decided to put his landholding to better use since cotton was not doing very well in the marketplace. People were beginning to move west and passing through their area, and this gave him an idea. Big Joe, as his neighbors in Huntsville named him because of his size and his rank as an army colonel, decided to go into the logging and lumber business. As the passing parade of movers to the west stopped and camped in the area, Big Joe persuaded some of them to stay with the offer of paid employment. A small settlement of covered wagons and tents began to appear as men with axes, saws, oxen, mules, and horses began to establish a new and growing business in Foxville. Some of the travelers worked for a short time and moved on, but many remained and worked hard. Since they were moving logs and some sawed lumber to Huntsville, Big Joe decided to name his new business the Fox Logging and Lumber Company. Colonel Singleton was a very compassionate man and extremely generous to his fellow workers. As the population increased, it was time for these people to start building their own homes. At no charge to his men, he allowed them to cut and prepare the lumber to build their houses and provided the land upon which to build, but the building of their houses would be done on their own time. It was a slow process, but the men teamed up and built one house at a time. It wasn’t long until Foxville, Alabama started looking like a small settlement just like Huntsville. It was agreed with all concerned that if anyone moved, the house would become the property of the company, as it owned the land. This was something he passed down to his son as a policy of the company and remained in force.

Mary Alice Singleton, Bill’s wife, came into the living room carrying a coffeepot to refill his cup. More coffee? she asked.

Yes, thanks, he answered. Sure makes ya feel warm inside while looking outside at the cold wind blowin’ and the light snow flying around.

Sleep well?

Like a log. I was sure tired. I don’t think I turned over one time, he answered.

I know. Before ya went on your trip, ya seemed restless, worried, and not sleeping very well. But last night, I noticed ya seemed ta be more peaceful. I guess the trip was good for ya… want ta tell me ’bout it?

It was long and tirin’, but very satisfyin’. I think not only you, but also the others will be very pleased at what I have to report. Since here in Fox we’re runnin’ short of a number of difforent kinds of timber our customers need, I’ve been lookin’ for a new supply, and I think I’ve found it. When I tell ya more ’bout it tonight, I’m sure y’all will be pleased, he partly explained.

Good, I’m anxious ta hear ’bout it, she responded with a relaxed smile.

As they stood looking out at the weather from their living room window, cozily sipping their coffee, Lee Roy Williams, their Negro handyman drove up in Bill’s 1925 Model T Ford with the curtains and isinglass windows all in place. He carefully parked the year-old motorized conveyance in front of the Singleton’s house at the foot of the steps.

Lee Roy had personally worked for the Singleton’s around their home since a logging accident had caused a head injury that had left him somewhat impaired. He was still quite capable of performing smaller jobs and successfully looked after the needs of Bill and Mary Alice Singleton. Since the Singleton’s had no children, there was not very much to do except for some general maintenance and an occasional odd job under the direction of Mary Alice.

The only other member of the household was the cook, Jasmine Williams, Lee Roy’s wife. They were one of six Negro families that lived in Fox and worked for the company. Lee Roy and Jasmine lived very comfortably in a couple of rooms over the car garage, and the bringing of the car around to the front of the house every morning was one of his routine chores. During the winter months, Lee Roy always kept the motor running because cranking a cold Ford was not an easy chore. Also, he knew his boss hated the cold weather, and so always made sure there was a lap blanket on the front seat.

Bill kissed Mary Alice on the lips, put on his heavy topcoat, gloves, and hat, opened the door said goodbye and carefully made his way down the icy front steps to the car. He drove out of his driveway onto the hard frozen rutty main road and headed toward the lumber mill.

Mary Alice stood looking through the glass part of the front door until Bill was out of sight. Then she turned, walked over to the fireplace, picked up the poker, and poked at the fire—stirring the burning logs around to get more heat. After placing another log on the fire, she replaced the poker in its stand, stood for a few minutes staring at the fire, and thought to her self, where did he go? What new venture is he planning? Will we have ta move? God, I hope not we are too old for that; I might just balk at that idea, she said out loud to the burning logs. Then leaving the room, she went upstairs to stoke the fire in their bedroom and make up the bed.

A fire had destroyed the cabin that Maj. Karl Singleton had first built, and a larger new home was built about a mile for the cabin site. It was a large two-story colonial style house sitting at the end of a long dirt road lined on both sides with tall white oak trees. The house had a full wraparound porch that traversed the entire front of the edifice and around both sides. Upstairs, there were four bedrooms and two bathing rooms with wood heaters for heating bath water. Downstairs was a living room or parlor, formal dining room, study, sewing room, bathing room, and kitchen. Major Singleton named the estate Timber Lane. The only remaining parts of the original cabin were two-rock chimneys and parts of the foundation.

When Bill’s father inherited Timber Lane, he made many much-needed improvements. Not long after electricity became available, he had the house wired, a pump house built, and inside, plumbing installed. A small wood-burning hot water heater was added in the kitchen, which provided hot water for all the bathrooms and kitchen. Fireplaces in each room heated the house, and in the kitchen was a wood-burning cook stove. It was one of Lee Roy’s chores to see that plenty of wood was kept beside each fireplace, and the cook stove, which was brought from the mill, be stacked inside the woodshed at the rear of the house.

*     *     *

Foxville was a small village with the lumber mill as the hub. At first, houses were built here and there without any planning and were single-family dwellings. As more and more people moved into the area and went to work for the lumber company, Bill’s father decided that some kind of village plan for building houses should be drawn up. So streets were laid out and blocks were formed, making more room for a more organized building. This was when the name was changed from Foxville to just plain Fox, Alabama, and was duly registered.

Now, there were one hundred and forty-five families living in the area, but not all of them lived within the village. Some workers that could afford it had purchased land outside the little village and built their homes on small farms. A two-room schoolhouse had been built, and two teachers had been brought in to teach the children. At first, the company paid the teacher’s salaries, but as the population grew, a small education tax was levied on the employees, which amounted to three cents per paycheck in order to help pay for their children’s education.

A church had been built and a lay minister who also worked for the company held services there every Sunday. From the collection plates that were passed around before each service, he was paid extra for his time. The white congregation filled the benches on the first floor, with the Negro congregation sitting in the balcony. This was their choice because the balcony had always been where they sat. The lay minister led the singing without any music and called the balcony his Heavenly Choir as the Negro congregation could outsing the white congregation. At times, the whites would just stop singing and quietly listen in enjoyment to the Heavenly Choir.

Since the village was not close to a large town, the logging company had added a general store to its operation for the convenience of its employees. Almost everything needed was available, but some of the people would make a weekly trip, usually on Saturday, to Huntsville where more and varied stores were available.

*     *     *

Upon his arrival at the mill, Annie Sue Parker, secretary and bookkeeper for Fox Logging and Lumber Company, greeted him at the office door. She had been working for the company ever since her husband had died from a bad case of flu some years back. He had been a longtime employee of the company and a trusted friend of Bill Singleton. Upon his untimely death, Ben Parker had left Annie Sue with two children to rear, which meant she had to find work to support her family. As she was an educated woman and since the company needed a secretary and bookkeeper, Bill offered her the job, which she gratefully accepted. This was a good move on Bill’s part because she soon had become his right hand, and he could always count on her to look after things should he have to leave for any length of time.

Good mornin’ boss, how was yer trip? she asked.

Fine, Annie Sue, and how are things ’round hear?

They’re just as ya left them, and everythin’ is runnin’ smoothly. The weather has slowed things down a bit, but the men are still cuttin’, the sawmill is runnin’, and we’re up ta standard on our orders, she said, bringing him up to date.

That’s great. I knew I could count on ya ta keep things goin’, he laughingly said.

Want ta tell me about yer trip? she asked.

I will, just as soon as ya find Dave Kidwell and have him come ta ma office, he answered.

No sooner said than done, she promised.

Putting on her winter coat, Annie Sue went out the office door in search of Dave Kidwell, the company manager and longtime friend of Bill’s. She found him in the drying room where there had been a little problem with one of the drying ovens, and Dave was overseeing its repair.

Mr. Singleton wants ta see ya right away in his office, Dave, she told him.

I’ll be along in a few minutes. We need ta finish this first, and then I’ll be on my way.

Good, I’ll tell him, but come as soon as ya can. I think he has some good news because he’s wearin’ a big smile on his face. With that, she turned and walked back to the office.

After he had finished overseeing the repair of the valve in the drying oven, Dave told his helper, Go ahead and turn it on, and if there be any more leaks, let me know.

David Ray Kidwell had been working for the Fox Logging and Lumber Company for many years, as did his father and his father before him. Dave’s grandfather was one of the first men moving west that had stayed to work with Big Joe Singleton. He was a hardworking man and took his duties seriously. The men working under him had the greatest respect for him, as they did for Bill Singleton, and would go to any length to please both men. In return, these two men had the same respect for their employees.

Elizabeth Ann (Libby) and David Ray Kidwell had two children: one daughter, Margaret Fay, age five, and a son, Richard Cody, age three. Since the Singletons had no children, they looked upon these two young children like their own. Mary Alice Singleton never failed to bring the children gifts of clothes and toys when she would make shopping trips into Huntsville.

Opening the office door, Dave stepped inside.

’Bout time," said Annie Sue.

Now don’t get your drawers in a knot, Annie, Dave said jokingly.

Is that you, Dave? called Bill from his office.

Yep, it’s me, boss. Had a little problem with a valve, but I think it’s okay now, he explained.

Good! Y’all come on in as I’ve somethin’ I want ta share with you, Bill invited.

Dave and Annie Sue came into Bill’s private office and closed the door.

Have a seat, I think you’re going ta like what I have ta tell you, he said, sitting and looking out the window at the light, powdery snow flying around in circles and falling on the windowpane.

They both sat down and waited. Then he spun his chair around, put his elbows on his desk, his face in his hands and smiling, looked across at Dave and Annie Sue, and announced, Well, I did it!

That’s great ta hear; now tell us what you’ve been up ta, Annie Sue said.

Bill smiled, leaned back in his chair, and clasped his fingers together behind his head and, in general, looked very pleased. "As ya know, I’ve been away for the past few days doin’ a little timber huntin’, and I think I found it. I have a friend who called me a while back and asked if I’d like ta buy some mountain property.

"I told him that I definitely was interested, but that I didn’t want ta have ta pay an arm and a leg for it, and I didn’t want it ta be very far from Alabama.

"He called me again a few days later and told ma that he had just what the doctor ordered, and if I’d come and look at it, he felt it could be purchased for the right price. So, as ya know, I went. I didn’t give y’all or Mary Alice any details ’bout ma trip ’cause I figured if nothin’ came of it, then I would have nothin’ ta explain.

The land I looked at lies between two mountains. One is in North Carolina and the other in Tennessee. There are fourteen thousand acres that’re owned by two families who’d like ta sell. I’d guess that at least twelve thousand or more acres of that land are virgin timber. This was a land grant, much like the one given ta my grandfather the major. The land has been passed down from one generation ta another but was never used. Now they’d like ta sell in order ta settle the two estates, and I have made both parties an offer and should hear somethin’ from them within the next couple of weeks. It’s a beautiful place, and since we’re runnin’ low on many kinds of timber on our own land here, it’ll help build up our supply and keep us goin’ for many years ta come. I am keepin’ my fingers crossed that we’ll get a favorable reply very soon. Now y’all keep this ta yourselves until we hear somethin’ back from them.

Annie Sue and Dave just sat there looking across the desk at their boss, waiting for his next words.

Well, say somethin’, Bill said as he put his elbows back on the desk.

Dave cleared his throat, sat back in his chair and said, Sounds great ta me, boss, but I’ve many questions. But they can wait ’til ya know fer sure if yer goin’ ta get the land er not. This is a big surprise, but I’m sure ya know what yer doin’, and it’s not fer me ta question every decision ya make, Dave stated.

Not true, Dave. Y’all will play a big part in this venture. If it goes through, there’s no way I could do it without both of yer help. I’ll need lots of advice and suggestions, and I expect it ta come from the two of ya. Y’all have been with this company as long as I have and are as much a part of it as I am, and I put a lot of stock in yer opinions. Now, don’t the two a ya go sour on me, ’cause we’ll all sit down and work out the details, Bill promised.

Annie Sue lifted her hand as though she was in a classroom asking the teacher for permission to speak.

What’s it, Annie, do ya want ta say somethin’, or do ya need ta go to the bathroom? laughed Bill.

All I want ta know is what part I’ll play in this new venture, should it get off the ground? she asked.

Y’all will play the same part as ya always have. There’ll be no changes, but there’ll be more paperwork, more bookkeeping; and if this goes through like I think it will, then we’ll just hire ya some help. I’m not goin’ ta pack a big load on your back and expect ya ta carry it, he assured her. Let’s not get too deep into this until we find out for sure if the sale goes through. Now, let’s get back ta work and remember, not one word of this outside this office, he said, wanting reassurance.

Ya got it, boss, no one will hear anythin’ from me, Dave assured him.

Annie Sue nodded, and the two of them stood and made their way out of his office, closing the door behind them. Though Annie Sue went behind her desk, and Dave stood there for a minute.

What is it, Dave? she asked.

Damn! Fourteen thousand acres shore’s a lot of timber, he said. Then he looked over at Annie Sue, smiled, and went out the door into the cold morning air.

2

DAVE WALKED ACROSS THE PARKING lot in front of the main office toward the drying shed where he had been working when Bill sent for him. He wanted to check on the valve he had been working on to make sure it was not leaking. To his satisfaction, he found it not leaking and the drying oven heating up again. They had a big order waiting in that oven that needed to be shipped, and the bad valve had set the drying time back about twenty-four hours. But since the weather was inclement, it would make no difference in shipping. Since the railway company had not backed the boxcars into the yard as of yet, Dave felt sure that the order would go out all right without any backlash from the customer. Blame it all on the railroad, they won’t mind , thought Dave. There’s not a rush on the order, so I’m not goin’ ta worry about it .

As he was leaving the drying shed, someone whistled at him, and he turned to look. It was Ralph Maynard standing in the doorway of the saw and planing building frantically waving for him to go over there. Dave waved back and started across the yard in a trot. When he reached the doorway where Ralph was standing, he could not hear the saws running, which was very unusual at that time of day.

What’s wrong, Ralph? he asked.

The damn drive belt broke on one of the saws. Flew off the drive wheel and slapped ole’ Harold Smyth on the right side of his head, shoulder, and arm. Has a bad cut on his head, and I think his arm is broke. But ya better take a look for yerself, he reported.

The two men ran down the aisle between the log runs leading to the saw table and found Harold Smyth sitting on an old nail keg holding his right arm. Blood was running down the right side of his face, and he was white as a ghost. Dave ran up and knelt down on one knee.

Let me look at that cut, Harold, hold still, Dave ordered.

The cut made by the drive belt didn’t seem too bad, but Harold was bleeding badly as head wounds usually do, and a swollen knot was beginning to form on his forehead. Dave yelled for a first aid kit, and Ralph ran to the shed office and picked up the kit kept there for such emergencies. Then Dave took a role of gauze and began to make a compress.

Here, Ralph, hold this here, compress tight against the cut while I wrap some gauze ’round his head ta put some pressure on it, Dave ordered.

With the compress in place, they were able to stop the bleeding. Then Dave looked at Harold’s right arm, and sure enough, it looked like he might have a simple fracture between his wrist and elbow.

I do think we need ta get him over ta Doc Black’s office, right away, Dave suggested. Take the keys ta my pickup that’s parked in front of the office and bring it down ta the side door.

Ralph took the keys and bolted out the door, running to the truck. He was back in a flash, pulling up next to the building at the side door.

Think ya can walk, Harold? ask Dave.

I think so, he replied. I feel a mite sick at ma stomach, but I always get that way when I see blood… mine or anyone else’s, he said.

Dave smiled, unhooked the bib of Harold’s overalls, placed the broken arm inside, and then hooked the bib back up as this would act as a makeshift sling to help support and carry the injured arm. Then the two men helped Harold out to the truck, and all three got in. After rolling down the window down on the passenger side, Dave told one of the men standing there to go up to the main office and tell Annie Sue where they were going and that later he would report back to the office.

Let’s go, Ralph, and for god’s sake, take it easy, Dave snapped.

Ralph put the truck in gear, eased out the clutch, and moved off at a slow and easy pace. They left the parking lot, went onto the main road, and headed to Doc Black’s office about a mile or so away.

Later, upon their return to the lumber mill, this time with Dave driving, he parked his truck in front of the main office.

I better report ta the office ’cause the boss will want ta know about this. Y’all go back and start puttin’ a new belt on the drive wheel, Dave suggested to Ralph.

As soon as he opened the office door and stepped inside, Annie Sue asked, Is Harold goin’ ta be all right?

He’s goin’ ta have a sore head and his arm in a cast for a while. Doc Black had ta use sixteen stitches ta close the cut, but he’ll be okay. We drove him home and assured his wife that he was fine but would need a little tender lovin’ care for a few days. I told Harold not ta worry about his wages; that we’d take care of that and the doctor bill. It could’ve been much worse though. That damn belt could have cut his head off, but I guess the good Lord was lookin’ out for him. This is the first time this has happened, but I’m afraid it won’t be the last. We need ta put some kind of guard over those flywheels ta keep the belts from a flyin’ up in the air should they break or slip off, Dave suggested.

Standing in his office doorway, Bill heard the report and said, I think ye’r right, Dave. Will ya see what can be done ’bout that? We don’t want anyone gettin’ hurt again when we can prevent it.

I’ll take care of it right away. The saw men air goin’ ta be a bit nervous about bein’ around those flywheels after this, and I don’t blame them, Dave said.

When Dave left the office, he made his way back to the saw and planing building. The men were working hard trying to get a new belt on the drive wheel of the huge steam generator that drives the flywheel that turns the saw blade. In some cases, the flywheels are driven by a gasoline motor, electric dynamo, or by steam. But at the Fox Logging and Lumber Company, a steam generator was the source of power.

The belts are made to order and have to fit tight. But with use and a lot of wear, they can become so worn that they cease to fit as snug. Dave wanted to put some kind of guard over the flywheel in case the belt slipped off or broke again. With a guard in place, it would prevent a belt from flying forward where the saw-men were doing their jobs. Lacking the guard made for a dangerous situation, and Dave wanted to prevent any more accidents if possible. Just how they were going to do this, he was not sure. He stood looking at the huge flywheels that were some three or four feet in diameter and silently studied the situation for a few minutes. Then, without a word, he walked away.

He went to the finishing room where there were some very good carpenters at work. Sometimes orders would come in for a finished product, and these men knew their trade. If it could be built, he knew these men could design and make it. Bert Henderson was the man in charge, and Dave went straight to him.

Bert, I have a little project for ya. Take a walk down ta the saw and planin’ buildin’ and check out those two flywheels and tell me if ya can build a guard ’round them that’ll keep the belts from flyin’ up in the air should they break or slip off, Dave said.

I heard about the accident, and I think it’d be a smart move. I’ll look it over and let ya know what can be done. Right now, I have here this job ta finish, which won’t take me long.

Okay, Bert, ya just let me know or ya do whatever ya think it’ll take… as long as we get it done. In the meantime, we’ll get the belt back on and close the saws down for the rest of the day. I don’t want no one else hut today, or any other day for that matter, Dave said.

He turned and headed back to help get the belt back on, but when he arrived, the men already had it on and were about to start up the saw again.

Hold on there, don’t start that saw! he yelled. We’re goin’ ta shut the saws down for the rest of the day so Burt Henderson and his men can build guards around them flywheels. The railway company has backed some boxcars into the yard, and we need ta start loadin’ that big order that has come out of the dryin’ kilns. Most of the lumber is stacked under the shed, and by the time we get that loaded, the rest will be comin’ out of the ovens, he added.

With this, the men headed for the drying shed.

3

As THE ALARM CLOCK SUDDENLY sounded, it caused Tom to sit up in bed like a jack-in-the-box. He could never understand why this always happened when he had to set the alarm to be awakened, but it was something he could not help. As he slipped his feet out from the covers and into his old slippers, he thought numbly to himself, Boy, it shore is cold . For it ta be this cold hear in the bedroom, the damn fire must of gone out in the big heata . Then wrapping himself in his tattered old chenille bathrobe, he went out into the hallway and down the stairs. No, the fire was not out, but it was the next thing to it. After shaking the grate, Tom opened the lid and threw in a couple of big chunks of coal. Won’t be long now afore the old heata will be red hot, he said to himself.

Next, he went into the kitchen where he started a fire in the cook-stove, filled the coffeepot with water, and placed it on the eye. He put the usual amount of coffee grounds in the strainer and then placed it in the pot. When that coffee starts perkin’ the aroma will wake up the rest of the house, he thought, smiling. Raising the shade on the kitchen door, Tom looked out and saw that a heavy snow was falling, also the wind had picked up which would cause the snow to pile up on the back porch, if you could call it a porch.

Though the porch was small, the only things out there were the icebox, a box of extra wood for the cook-stove, and a second full bucket of coal for the heater. They always kept the icebox on the back porch so the iceman could put in his usual twenty-five-pound block without having to come into the kitchen. When ice was needed, Doris Ann would leave fifteen cents on top of the box for payment. But with the weather as bad as it was today, he knew there would be no delivery. It had been so cold for the past two or three days that the ice already in the box had melted very little. In fact, most everything in the icebox was either frozen or on the brink of freezing.

Bradford, Ohio, was in the midst of one of the worst winters in ten years according to all weather reports. A lot of people here and in Dayton, four miles away, were having a tough time, especially those that worked outside. Streetcars were about the only means of transportation seen moving on the streets.

As Doris Ann, Tom’s wife, walked into the kitchen, she said, Better go and check the stove in the livin’ room, it’s smokin’ again. It seems that every time ya chunk up the fire, that damn stove smokes and stinks up the livin’ room, she added.

Well, I can’t help it. The damn chimney needs a cleanin’ and getten the landlord ta do, that’s like pullin’ hens teeth, Tom replied.

After ya fix the heata, wake up the children and yer pa, she ordered.

When Tom ambled into the living room, sure enough, the stove was smoking. He opened the damper a little more and that stopped the smoke from coming into the living room and sent it up the chimney where it was supposed to go. Then he stepped over to the stairs and called, Okay, kids, time ta get up! Did ya hear me? Time ta get up!

It was a small two-story house with three bedrooms upstairs. Thomas Carl and Doris Ann Wilson, their son Jeremiah (Jeb) age seven and their daughter, Sue Ellen, age nine occupied these bedrooms. The only other bedroom in the house was on the first floor, and William T. Wilson, Tom’s pa, occupied it. He had the first-floor bedroom all to himself because he snored so loud that no one could stand sleeping in the same room with him. And, too, his arthritis in his knees was bad, making it hard for him to climb the stairs. Since the only bathroom in the house was on the first floor, it also made things a lot easier for him.

No one ever knew what the T stood for in his name, and he would never tell. All his friends called him WT, and his grandchildren called him Gramps. WT Wilson was not a very big man as he was small of frame and only stood about five feet ten inches tall. Though he weighed around 175 pounds, he had large rough hands, muscular arms, and broad shoulders. His weather-beaten face was oval in shape and somewhat wrinkled from the years of working in the sun. The mustache he sported was full and went from corner to corner of his mouth and was salt and pepper in shades as was his full head of hair. Underneath his bushy eyebrows were two small eyes that always had a twinkle to go with his ready smile.

When he worked, WT wore Big Mac bibbed overalls, plaid wool shirts, brogans, and a tattered old felt hat. But on his Saturday trips to town and on Sundays, he would put on clean overalls and a white shirt with the collar buttoned up but never wore a tie. He smoked a crooked stem, brier pipe, and always carried a can of Prince Albert Pipe Tobacco in his bib pocket.

The Wilsons had been living in Ohio for the past four years, having moved to Bradford from a small town just outside of Knoxville, Tennessee, called Burlington. WT and Tom had worked there as outside carpenters, which meant they built buildings from the ground to the roof. When work had become scarce in the Burlington area, they decided it was time to look for greener pastures. When WT had heard that jobs were plentiful in Dayton, Ohio, they had all decided to move there.

Since his wife had died about six months prior to the move, WT had been living with Tom and Doris Ann. Tom hadn’t liked his pa living alone because he was afraid he might fall or become ill, and where he lived at the time it was hard for Tom to keep an eye on him. So for the sake of argument and since they worked together anyway, he had sold his home place and moved in with his son, and everyone seemed happy with the arrangement.

Fortunately after the moved, they both found employment right away. But since they didn’t like living in the Dayton area, they moved to Bradford, which was about four to five miles north of Dayton and, besides, was closer to their jobsite.

Tom stepped over and knocked on his pa’s door and told him it was time to get up. I’m up! Out in a couple minutes! he yelled in response. I smelt the coffee and shore could use a cup ’bout now!

Then Tom walked back into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. Topping it off with a spoonful of cream, he began to blow and sip at the scalding liquid.

Doris Ann was busy frying side meat and putting fresh-made biscuits in the oven. After the side meat was done, she poured off some of the grease, sprinkled in some flour and milk to make a pan of sawmill gravy. Then after breaking a half a dozen eggs in a mixing bowl to make scrambled eggs, she added a little milk in order to make them go further and started cooking them in another pan. She had everything ready by the time the whole family entered the kitchen and took their seats around the table in their usual places. Tom and WT sat at each end with Doris Ann and Sue Ellen on one side and Jeb on the other. They all sat with their hands folded and heads bowed. WT always insisted that grace be said before each meal.

Dear Lord, we thankee for this day, although it could a been betta, and for these vittles. Amen.

They started passing the food, filling their plates, and began eating their breakfast.

What day’s this? asked WT.

It’s November 15, Pa, answered Tom.

It is still 1926, Gramps, laughed Sue Ellen.

Don’t y’all get smart with me, young lady, snapped Gramps. I dern well knowed what year this is, but it won’t be for long, ’cause the New Yea is right a top of us.

Yea, and it won’t be long ’til Christmas! yelled the two children in unison.

With this outburst, Doris Ann spoke up, Now, now, let’s get through Thanksgivin’ first afore we start thinkin’ about Christmas. One holiday at a time. With this pronouncement, she stood, picked up her plate and coffee cup, and put it on the sink counter. The children did the same as they had been taught early to clean up their dishes after each meal.

Mama, can we go out in the backyard and play in the snow? asked Jeb.

Please, Mama, begged Sue Ellen.

I don’t know, it’s really cold out there, Doris Ann replied.

Please, Mama, just for a little while, they begged again.

Well, okay, but only for a little while, and ya have ta promise that when I call, y’all will come in and no arguments, she told them. They both promised.

Okay, go brush yer teeth and comb yer hair. Then put yer coats, caps, mittens, and boots on.

Off the children went, leaving Tom and WT sitting at the table drinking another cup of hot coffee in companionable silence. WT had poured his hot coffee into the saucer so he could blow on it and make it cool enough to drink. In fact, he had always sipped his hot coffee out of a saucer. Then Doris Ann ushered both kids out the door with a goodbye kiss after checking to make sure their coats were buttoned. Fixing herself another cup of coffee, she joined the two men at the table.

All was quiet for a few minutes until Tom spoke. No work again today, he said.

Tom and WT were carpenters, and most of their work was outside. Only the finishing carpenters could work inside, and they saved up the inside work so they would have work on bad winter days. It was hard for Tom and WT because they would have to save enough money from the summer to carry them over during the cold, snowy winter months when they could not work full-time, but this year was different; the weather had turned sour from the beginning. Snow and a lot of it had started earlier than usual, and work had been scarce, which meant that they were looking at lean times. All three sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping their hot coffee and thinking.

Doris Ann broke the silence when she announced, We air not in too bad a shape right now. We’ve enough money ta keep things goin’ up ta a point. But unless we can get a little break in the weather and you two can work a little, Christmas ain’t goin’ ta be a very big thing this year. I keep money back and stretch the food as far as I can, but sooner or later things air going ta grow a little thin ’round here unless lady luck shines on us.

She did most of her grocery shopping at the local A&P as she found their prices were a few cents cheaper. The flour she bought came in printed sacks with all kinds of pretty designs, and she kept them to make dresses for Sue Ellen and her. Instead of bacon, she would buy side meat, because she could slice it thin and fry