The Railwalkers

Chapter 1-2

“Yessum,” said Charlie, “but they ain’t what Miss Violet likes to hear.”

“Well, Miss Violet’s done listening for the day.” Mrs. Donovan turned to her daughter, handing Violet a small purse and a shopping list. “Run down to the store and pick up what we need.”

“Yes, Mama.” She stood, leaving her unfinished silver to Charlie. Mrs. Donovan walked her to the front door, which was open to the hot, humid air. Mrs. Donovan was wiping her neck repeatedly with a small handkerchief. Violet had already put her hair in a bun to fend off the heat. She grabbed the shopping basket from the front door. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Not too soon I hope,” Mrs. Donovan said, fixing up Violet’s collar. “Eustace Carpenter’s been asking about you, you know.”

Violet scrunched up her face. “Oh Mama, is that what this is? You know I don’t like him.”

“I think you should give him a chance, sugar. He’s a good boy, and he’s wild about you.”

“But Mama.” Violet turned to Mrs. Donovan in a final plea. “He’s just so…stupid.”

“You hush, child,” said Mrs. Donovan sternly. “You’re a woman now, Violet. It’s time you start thinking about a family.”

“What if I don’t want one?”

“Nonsense. We all want one. Besides, you’re gonna need someone to take care of you soon enough. I won’t have no spinster living in my house.”

“But—”

“Violet.” Mrs. Donovan tucked a strand of her daughter’s hair behind her ear. “You’ve lived a free life, I’d say. I made sure you didn’t want for nothin’, not even after your daddy died. But there comes a time in every woman’s life where you’re done bein’ a girl. This ain’t like finding the right toy to play with. This is about finding a man who’ll take good care of you for the rest of your days. That Carpenter boy has the land and the money to support you and yours. It’s a proper match.”

Violet wanted to argue, but knew it was fruitless. Once her mother had decided something, it was nearly impossible to change her mind. Violet nodded and turned to leave, her eyes downward. Mrs. Donovan gave her a quick hug before sending her off. She wandered down the road, her mind full of her mother’s words.

Violet never liked Eustace Carpenter. When they were in school together, he pulled her pigtails and kicked dirt on her dress regularly. One day, he even put a toad in her lunch to make her scream in front of the whole class. Her mother insisted it was just the way boys played. After all, Violet was getting attention; she should be happy about it. After the toad incident, however, Violet had had enough and punched Eustace square in the jaw. She’d gotten a good spanking and went without supper as punishment, but Eustace didn’t pull her hair as much after that. Now that they were older, Eustace had started showing up whenever she went into town. He always invited her out, and she always declined.

As Violet walked through the road of Redrock, she smiled in greeting at the other townsfolk. The school bell rang out, some of the younger children running freely into town. The Dewdrop Saloon was opening its doors for the day, Mr. Harvey sweeping the front porch. Mrs. Stevens and her five children carried baskets of newly woven fabric into the tailor’s to sell. Little Tommy Hewett walked his family’s cow through the street, leading it by a rope around its neck. Its tin bell knocked back and forth with every step. Passers-by waved and smiled back at Violet, some even stopping to make small talk. When she got to the general store at the very end, she was thankful to step into the shaded building.

“Hello, Mr. Munts,” she said pleasantly.

Mr. Munts looked up from his counter. He was a middle-aged man, balding rapidly, with a pointed noise and a warm smile. He hunched over quite a bit, and often squinted to read or see who he was talking to. When Violet was little, Mr. Munts often gave her little candies or bits of hard sugar whenever she came in with her mother.

“Hello, Miss Donovan,” he replied. “Here for some shopping?”

“Yes, sir,” said Violet. She opened her list and began to read. “Where’s Mary today?”

“Out sick,” said Mr. Munts. “She’s been ill for three days now, poor thing.”

“Oh no. I should pay her a visit tonight. See how she is.”

Mr. Munts nodded in agreement, his eyes on his ledger. “That’s a lovely thought.”

Ting-a-ling. The store’s bell jingled as three young men walked inside. The first two were Peter and Paul Hainsworth—twins that were both lanky with shaggy, brown hair. The only difference between them was a scar Paul had beneath his right eye. They were accompanied by Eustace Carpenter.

Violet turned back to the sacks of flour on the store shelf, trying desperately to keep her face hidden from Eustace as he made conversation with Mr. Munts. However, it didn’t take long for the three to notice her.

“Howdy there, Violet.” Eustace approached with a sloppy smile. Eustace had always been a big lad, even when they were younger. He was stocky, with beefy arms and a thick neck. His ears stuck out at odd angles under his shortly shorn blond hair. He wore worn-out denim coveralls, haggard boots, and a faded shirt. He and his family owned the barnyard for the town; next to the Donovans, the Carpenters were the richest family there. “Nice mornin’, ain’t it?”

“It’s nearly one o’clock, Eustace,” said Violet flatly.

“Oh, issit?” He scratched his head with mild interest. “Say, it’s Saturday, Violet. How’s about you come for a drink tonight at the saloon with me?”

Immediately, Violet wanted to say no. She felt Peter and Paul on either side of her now, effectively locking her into that space in front of the flour. She felt like a field mouse, trapped by rattlers. “I’m busy tonight.” Grabbing a small sack of flour, she stuffed it into her basket and ducked between Paul and Eustace, walking towards the sugar.

“You’re busy all the time,” Eustace complained. “Just get your n****r to do your work for ya.”

“Charlie is my friend,” said Violet defensively.

“Negros don’t make good friends,” said Peter. “Just good help.” The three laughed, and Violet angrily threw another small sack of sugar on top of the pile in her basket before storming over to the tins of coffee beans. As dumb as he was, Eustace seemed to at least notice when he’d upset a girl. He followed her, hands in his pockets.

“C’mon now,” he said, “we was only playin’. We didn’t mean to offend you none.” Violet glared at him, but said nothing. She grabbed a tin of coffee, but Eustace placed his hand on the top, keeping her from taking it. “We won’t talk bad ‘bout your n***o no more.”

“Charlie,” said Violet pointedly. “And she ain’t nobody’s n***o. She earns herself a wage, Eustace.”

“Charlie,” Eustace repeated. “All right then. We won’t talk bad ‘bout Charlie no more.” Violet stared at him doubtfully, and snatched the coffee tin away from his hand. “Look, you don’t never come out with me when I ask ya. What do I gotta do to change your mind, Violet?”

But Violet gave him no answer. Instead, she turned sharply and walked her basket straight towards Mr. Munts’ counter. She could feel Eustace getting angrier. He marched up beside her and took her arm, making her jerk around in surprise. “Don’t you walk away when somebody’s talkin’ to you, girl!”

“That’s enough, boys.” The calm voice of Mr. Munts turned Eustace’s head. The grocer looked over his dingy glasses, frowning. “Miss Donovan has a lot to do today. Be on your way, Mr. Carpenter. Mr.’s Hainsworth.” The boys hesitated, but Eustace let Violet’s arm go and the three left the store. Mr. Munts shook his head. “Sorry about that, Miss Donovan. Did he hurt you any?”

Violet checked her bare arm. There was a slight red mark where Eustace had grabbed her, but nothing else. “No. T’ain’t nothin’.” She smiled at Mr. Munts with gratitude. “Thank you. I never thought he’d leave.”

“You pay him no mind, Miss Donovan. Boys like that don’t take much consideration for others.”

“Hmph.” Violet folded her arms as Mr. Munts began to ring her up. “I wish he’d learn some. Mama wants me to give him a chance. I’d rather take a hound dog over Eustace.”

Mr. Munts chuckled. “Well, in my opinion, Miss Donovan, you’re pretty enough to have your pick of the litter. No need to settle on a hound.” He winked, making Violet smile. “That’ll be one dollar and seventy-seven cents. Oh, and—” Mr. Munts dug through a small glass jar and handed Violet a wrapped butterscotch candy. “—that one’s free.” Violet paid and headed out, tucking her butterscotch into the pocket of her dress.

* * * *

The wind was cooler as the sun lowered in the sky. The trees shook as a gust played with their branches. Fields and fields of wild grass shifted like waves of an ocean. Violet, seated securely in Maple’s saddle, rode with the wind. She bounced with every jump of Maple’s canter, her fingers twisted up in her cream colored mane. Maple took her around the open field and into the woodlands, darting through trees easily. After ten years of life there, the pair of them knew the Donovan Estate by heart.

By sundown, Violet laid in the grass, watching the orange clouds float by above her. Maple grazed next to her.

“You think this is where I’ll die, Maple?” The horse gave no answer. “When we were in Atlanta, the world seemed so big. I remember running down the streets for hours, for what seemed like miles. Miles and miles of streets…” She tugged at a few blades of grass. “Now I’m here.” A bird flew overhead, vanishing behind the tree line. “Maybe Mama’s right. Maybe I do need to start thinkin’ about a family. She was my age when she got married.

“But I just don’t know.” Violet sat up, plucking a twig out of her hair. “Ain’t you supposed to be in love first? Or at least like the person somewhat.” Maple walked over and gummed her hair affectionately. Violet giggled. “Hell, I think I’d rather marry you if I could. Then we can go anywhere we wanted and nobody’d say a word about it.”

“Miss Violet!” She heard Charlie faintly call from the property. Violet turned over her shoulder to see her waving. “It’s gettin’ dark! Come on inside.”

“Coming!” Violet shouted back. She stood and hopped into Maple’s saddle, trotting her back to the stable. There, she put her up for the night, and came inside soon after. Mrs. Donovan was waiting inside.

“Supper’s almost ready,” she said. “Did you say you were out after?”

“Yes,” said Violet. “Mary Humphrey’s been ill. I wanted to stop in and see how she’s doing.”

Mrs. Donovan smiled. “Well let’s wrap up something to take her. We still got some of that pie left.”

“Good idea, Mama.”

They washed up and sat themselves at the table as Charlie served them their stew. Violet was reminded of Eustace and Peter’s taunts from earlier that day. A strange thought came to her. “Charlie?” Both Charlie and Mrs. Donovan turned to her. “Why don’t you…take supper with us tonight?” She gestured to the empty chair with a smile. “Seems silly, you eating in the other room.” Her smile faded, however, as an awkward pause hung in the air.

“Violet…?” Her mother looked concerned. “What brought this on?” She turned to Charlie, as though expecting answers. Quickly, Charlie held up her hands.

“That—that’s awfully kind of you, Miss Violet, but there’s no need. I’ll go take my supper in the kitchen.”