Page 159 of In These Hills

“She went for a ride with Colin before dinner, but should be back soon. We won’t start without her.”

Bethie gave her a playful look that Josephine returned. Colin, one of the young hands employed on the Jennings’s ranch, routinely called on Sarah these days, making his intentions clear. They all liked him, Sarah especially, and it was good to see her so happy.

Bethie raced out the door toward the barn, fourteen going on twenty and as smart as she was beautiful. By the time they’d traveled from Atlanta to Colorado, four years ago, Bethie had already taken to calling her Finny. Which seemed fitting.

She glanced at the return address on the partially opened package: Nannie Helen Burroughs, National Training School for Women and Girls, 50th Street NE and Lincoln Heights, Northeast Washington, DC. Nannie had accomplished what she’d set out to do, and was changing the world one woman and girl at a time.

All correspondence with Uncle Jack—and anyone else, limited as it was—still went through Nannie, just to be safe. Their home, their world, was here now. All of her writing was done under a pseudonym as well. Veritas Aequitas. Dodge’s idea. Latin for Truth and Justice.

Josephine recognized Uncle Jack’s decorative script on the package within, and realized how Bethie knew it was from him.

“Come here, Kitty Kat.” Dodge came through the door, Bethie in tow with Jessie trotting behind them. He took little Kathleen and planted kisses all over her face until the girl dissolved into giggles. Then he placed a kiss on Josephine’s lips that stirred memories of the wee hours together that morning. She saw the memory of it in his eyes, too.

Bethie took TJ from her and tickled his little tummy. “You grin just like your Uncle Jack, you know that? But Finny, we can’t start without Sarah. She’ll be givin’ us all a good tongue lashin’, if we did.”

Bethie had Sarah’s accent down to a T, and it always made Josephine laugh.

Dodge glanced out the window toward the snow-covered peaks. “I saw them coming down the ridge a while ago. She shouldn’t be long.”

Josephine reached down and gave Jessie a rub. The cattle dog was showing gray on her muzzle but a more faithful and loving companion couldn’t be found. And still, every time it rained, Jessie slept on the end of their bed, wanting to be close.

Josephine cut the remaining string from the package and opened the box, then smiled. Read this first, Josephine, before opening the gift within. And I will know if you don’t! was written on the outside of the letter. She would follow Uncle Jack’s wishes.

Dodge and Bethie’s laughter as they played with the twins drew her focus, and it still caused emotion to well inside her when she thought of what her life might have been like had she not been forced to flee Atlanta that day after the rally, and had dear Slim Poyner not offered to help her. What wealth of treasures she would have missed.

The rhythm of horse hooves sounded from outside and a minute later, Sarah burst into the cabin, cheeks flushed and blue eyes radiant. “Don’t be tellin’ me you’re havin’ a family meetin’ without me!” She gave the twins a quick peck each on the cheek, then eyed the letter in Josephine’s hand. “Oh! Is that from Uncle Jack? Have I missed anything, Finny girl?”

“No, we were waiting for all the family to be here.”

Sarah’s eyes went soft, as they always did when they mentioned family.

Josephine unfolded the letter, and just seeing Uncle Jack’s beautifully scripted handwriting brought him closer somehow. “Dearest Colorado Family, I trust this finds you well and enjoying spring in those beautiful mountains. The pictures you last sent of that rocky range filled me with awe. A regret I will long carry with me is that I failed to travel west to see you and your home when I could. Thank you also for the picture of the twins. Kathleen is precious, as was her namesake, and Todd Jasper is a right handsome lad. Good to see he doesn’t take after his father.”

Everyone laughed, Josephine catching the warmth of memory in Dodge’s expression.

“I don’t have much to do with the distillery anymore,” she continued reading. “Not that there is much to do with our state now officially locked down by the law of prohibition. No making or selling of whiskey in Tennessee. You won, Josephine. If you were still here, I’d salute you with a shot of Old No. 7.”

She met Dodge’s gaze, knowing he followed these events as closely as she did. Public sentiment had shifted after a shocking Nashville murder the previous November, when former US Senator and newspaper editor Edward Carmack was gunned down in the street by Robin Cooper, the son of a man Carmack had once called friend. Years of bitter politics and the rising heat over prohibition had turned the men into enemies. The killing—and the swift release and pardon of the man responsible—ignited outrage across Tennessee. Carmack became a martyr, and by January the General Assembly passed statewide prohibition.

Josephine grieved the violence that led there, but she thanked God for the outcome. She found her place in the letter and continued.

“Lem is considering moving the distillery to Missouri and Alabama to make the whiskey there, even though we poor souls in Lynchburg cannot buy it. Do not tell anyone, but I might have a few barrels squirreled away. Mine is simply to enjoy life and bring joy where I can. Sometimes I think back to our debates on the issues and wish we could have them all over again. I have not changed my stance, mind you, and I know you remain the same. But I would welcome our banter.”

Josephine’s eyes watered, and it took a minute to continue.

“Miss Mary tells me to send you her love and that you owe her a letter.” Josephine smiled, able to hear the woman saying it even now. “Young Louise, four years old, has everyone at the boarding house wrapped around her little finger. Miss Mary has her hands quite full, especially being with child again, but she and Calla make a good team. Calla is doing so well, and every time we are together, we speak of you all.”

“I wish we could see them,” Bethie said softly, and Dodge pulled her close.

“Calla sends her love,” Josephine continued, memories tugging at her heart. “She recently wrote down a collection of recipes and I have told her we should get them published and call it Miss Mary Bobo’s Boarding House Cookbook. But Miss Mary is not for it. Miss Mary fears it will only bring more business to the boarding house, and she says she already has more than she can handle. But everybody knows she’ll always make room at her table.”

“Finny,” Bethie interrupted. “Why don’t you write down your recipe for sausage gravy and biscuits and mail that to her? She could put that in.”

They all laughed, and Josephine continued reading.

“Mrs. Carver at the mercantile sends her best as well. She’s continuing your work, and I told her to use as many shelves in the back storage room as she needs. I should probably bring this letter to a close. But one thing before I do. I was baptized last Sunday in Mulberry Creek. Now don’t start thinking that I’m regretting my whiskey-making days. I am still most proud of what we all built together here in Lynchburg. Be sure and tell Dodge that. Lord knows I miss him and the talks we used to have.”

“I miss you too, Uncle Jack,” Dodge whispered, his voice soft.