Page 38 of In These Hills

Josephine searched his expression for any hint of humor. But he was serious. “Mr. Coburn, you know very well that I cannot, nor would I ever choose to, work for such an establishment. My beliefs forbid it. Though I’m sure you found amusement watching that scene unfold, despite my current circumstances.”

His eyes held hers. “I’d have to be a fairly base man to find amusement in the situation you now find yourself in. And I assure you, ma’am, I am not.”

Taken aback and a little ashamed at her hasty judgment, Josephine inclined her head. “Thank you, Mr. Coburn. That’s . . . most kind.”

“But while you’re holding tight to those beliefs, I’d ask you to consider something . . . Not everyone in the world is out to get you, ma’am. Some folks actually want to help. Maybe even lighten your load. Good people, too. Different from you, for sure. But different doesn’t mean they’re against you.” He slipped his hat back on. “As my father used to say . . . That’s all for free, but free don’t always mean dreck.”

Josephine studied him. His demeanor seemed genuine enough but experience had taught her caution. Rare was the man who considered a woman his equal, and when the topic turned to women’s rights, most tried to placate their inferiors with a smile or proverbial pat on the head. Like her father had done. The worst sought to cow women into submission.

Intuition told her Dodge Coburn wasn’t in that latter category. But he likely fell into the first.

Best she set him straight right now. “Mr. Coburn, while holding to such convictions may seem frivolous to someone like you—”

“I didn’t say that, ma’am—”

“I have witnessed what alcohol does to a man and what pain it inflicts on his family. Innocent women and children suffer. Wages meant for food and clothing go to bar tabs and barrels. So while others might crawl over cut glass for that job, I am not one of them. I’ll find gainful work elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere,” he echoed, brows lifting. “In Lynchburg.”

“Yes. This town may be small, but surely there are other opportunities. I taught school back in—” She caught herself. “Chattanooga . . . So bookkeeping is not the only skill I possess.”

Humor slow-brewed in his eyes. “I’d wager that’s a right true statement.” He gestured toward the square. “Folks hiring usually let the word walk until it finds its mark. Some tack notices on the board inside the mercantile. Mr. and Mrs. Carver keep a good ear on what’s what.”

“Thank you, Mr. Coburn. I’ll visit there now. Good day to you.”

She turned to go, catching his slow smile again.

“And a fine day to you, too, Mrs. Dunham.” He tipped his hat. “And . . . good luck.”

“Xparianxt hawg haend,” Josephine read softly, scanning the scraps of paper pinned to the mercantile’s “community board,” as an older couple, Mr. and Mrs. Carver—the proprietors—had called the rough-hewn plank hanging slightly askew near the front door.

She sounded out words phonetically, after deciphering the poorly written script. Nothing she wasn’t accustomed to as a teacher. But it was a characteristic typically seen in younger students, not adults. Then again, each step changes the view, as Todd used to say to her.

Thinking of her brother stirred the melancholy crouched at the fringes, ready to pounce. Remember, you didn’t always know what you know now. Give others the chance others gave you. Taking his advice to heart, she read on with a more generous eye . . .

Mill werker at Mckays.

Blacksmith with tuuls se Big Jed.

Many listings had curled edges, evidence of longevity. Farmhand needed. Includes room and board. See Mitchamore Farm. Room and board would help, but the fact she knew nothing about farming or tending livestock could prove problematic.

Carpenter for barn razin. Hot meals and room for pay. While she had to smile at that one, she felt less skilled with every line read.

Distillery Laborers Needed.

Her brow rose.

Men of good character sought . . . mash tubs, stills . . . experience welcome, training provided . . . good wages.

The ad was well written, the lettering precise. Jack Daniel was certainly educated. Not a single misspelling. The teacher within her gave him excellent marks, though “men of good character” for a distillery gave her pause.

Her gaze slid to another notice overlapping older ones. Excellent cook needed for boarding house . . . inquire to Mrs. Bobo.

Josephine inwardly groaned and forced herself to look again, until a notice near the bottom caught her eye.

Schoolteacher Needed. Position open for a lady or gentleman . . . modest salary . . . lodging arranged . . .

Hope rising, she unpinned the notice and hurried back to the counter.