Take Me Home, Country Roads

I forced myself to believe it was all real, to try and fit in amongst this Antebellum hill-billy family. Dinner was an eye-opening affair. With all the children off at one table, I sat with the adults at the bigger table, Roseanna on one side, and Anse’s brother, Ellison on the other. Ellison was very nice and asked the appropriate questions of me – where in New York I was from, how my trip was, etc. I answered them under the careful eye of Lavicy, who was clearly waiting to make sure I didn’t say something that would arouse suspicion. But I wasn’t an idiot. If this was really happening, telling them about my apartment in Brooklyn and my English Lit degree at UNC wouldn’t go over well. Unless a question was put directly at me, I kept my mouth shut, and despite my hunger barely ate. I didn’t think my stomach could keep it down, and besides, the food wasn’t exactly what I was used to. Venison stew? No, thanks.

I found myself automatically following Roseanna’s lead for the rest of the night, shuffling upstairs where she set up a pallet on the floor where I’d be sleeping until another bed could be brought in. Four girls were already in the queen sized one in the middle of the room. Lavicy game me a night gown and told me we’d go to town one day to get some material for new clothes. I didn’t say that I hoped I’d wake up back home.

I was convinced, when I laid down on that lumpy, make shift mattress of wool and straw that when I opened my eyes again, I’d be back to my normal life and this whole situation was just part of my overactive imagination. Maybe some weird coping mechanism that I was going through because of Mom and Dad. Whatever it was, I was sure it was going to end.

It didn’t.

The next few days were a real learning curve. I went about doing everything I was told, not wanting to make a fuss and hoping that it would all be over soon. Everything was so different, though.

Sleeping on a pallet on the floor, rather than a bed. Eating bland porridge, smoked meat and vegetable soup rather than cheeseburgers, Casear salads and pancakes. Bathing in a big silver bucket with luke-warm water. Wearing a dress every day. Not shaving my legs. Sharing a room with four other girls…There were a lot of weird things to get used to.

By the end of the week, though, I realized that I might just need to get over it. Something had happened to me…time travel, a coma, something…and I needed to adjust. My mom always told me to look at the positives, so as I settled in to live in 1882, that’s what I tried to do. I tried to look at it like camp. Or a Civil War themed amusement park. A new Disneyland adventure…Where I had to work in the field and help beat the laundry down by the stream.

Lavicy, thankfully, was immensely helpful. She took me under her wing and taught me everything I needed to do and reprimanded me when I did something that wasn’t quite proper (such as crossing my legs and swearing). Roseanna was super sweet and probably looked at me like some poor, innocent city girl, completely out of my element – which wasn’t far off. The children saw me as some sort of pet, to be honest. They loved listening to me talk and making fun of my accent.

The older boys were a bit different. I didn’t see them much during the day, since they all went off to work at the timber yard that Anse owned, but in the evenings and such they were charming and friendly. Johnse, who was clearly head over heels in love with Roseanna, teased me constantly. My initial attraction to him diminished slightly as I got to know him – he was a bit of an idiot, to be honest, but a good-hearted one. Anse didn’t talk to me much, he asked me a few questions about my family (which I answered as honestly as I could, under the close eye of Lavicy), but beyond that didn’t take much interest. Robert E, the middle boy at age 15, acknowledged me as maybe another Roseanna – some young woman shoved into his house and taking up space at the table. But he was friendly enough. Ellison, who was Anse’s brother and had been there the first night, was very nice and pleasant to talk to, but he lived a few miles away with his son, Cotton, who had some mental handicap. Cotton was a sweet kid, probably 16 or so, but acted like he was about five. He loved my accent – or lack thereof – and kept asking me to say different words, trying to repeat it back to me the same way. He was blown away when I started speaking a few phrases in different languages.

And then there was Cap. Cap was different from them all, but pulled a few of their characteristics into his own personality. He was kind like his mother, stern like his father, handsome like his brother, and every once in a while I would see a flash of mischief in his eye whenever he played with his little siblings. When he looked at me, it was always with curiosity, and an intensity that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. We didn’t speak much, if at all, but enough was being communicated through looks and body language.

I noticed things about him, little quirks and traits that were uniquely him. He loved to read and write, and every evening he sat by a lantern with some book in his hands, taking notes in the margins. Right now, he was onto Frankenstein, and read aloud to Robert E and Nancy. At first, the younger children were there too, but Lavicy, hearing bits of the story, put an end to it out of fear it would give them nightmares. I sat nearby, practicing my knitting and listening. I had read it in 8th grade, but I found myself loving Cap’s southern twang. Every afternoon, after he got back from the timer yard and before supper, Cap practiced his shooting. His aim was impeccable, the best in the state, I was told by Johnse, a hint of pride mingled with jealousy in his voice. Cap was modest about it; whenever he made a particularly impressive shot, he cocked his head to the side and gave a small smile, not letting the hooting and hollering of his siblings go to his head.

Above all else, though, it was clear that he idolized his father. Anse was not one to really give his sons compliments – I don’t think I heard anything more than a ‘well done’ when Elliot showed him a horse he had widdled from a piece of wood. Whenever he entered the room, though, Cap was at attention, did his bidding without question, and always looked to impress his father. It was adorable. And before the week was up, I could feel myself starting to crush on him. It was a bit of a worry, to be honest.

I spent the days doing chores and trying not to complain – before, my chores (when I had them) included making my bed and emptying the dishwasher. Now, I had to do all the laundry, hand wash all the dishes, scatter hay for the animals, fetch water from the well, milk the cows (Roseanna and the children had fits of laughter watching me learn) and do all other sorts of manual labor. To pass the time when I was alone, I sang to myself, trying to keep some of my dad’s favorite songs alive and well in my head. The evenings were much more pleasant, as the family all gathered together. Being an only child, I had never really experienced big families. At first, I was overwhelmed with the noise and the activity and the amount of time and attention everyone demanded. But I soon found myself loving it – there was always someone to talk to, a new story to tell, an opinion to share. At night, once everyone was fed and the younger children put to bed, the rest of us would gather on the porch or in front of the fire place. Anse and the boys would chat about the day, while Lavicy, Roseanna and Nancy sewed. I kept pretending to knit – everything was coming out a bit wonky – and quietly listened to the conversations. It was as though I had been there all along.

My fifth night in the house, Devil Anse’s brothers came over, as did his Uncle Jim. It was difficult to keep track of all the Hatfields and just how they were all related. Big families were a thing here, and it took a lot of energy to keep up with them all.

I was surprised to learn that Anse wasn’t the eldest of his brothers, especially since he was the one everyone seemed to take their cues from. The oldest was actually Uncle Wall, who was the Justice of the Peace in Mate Creek and a judge. He was a stern man, with a salt and pepper beard and dark eyes. While he wasn’t the most approachable, Wall certainly didn’t have the temper that Anse was reported to have. After Wall and Anse was Ellison, who I had met my first day. He had a young, bright face, with a rust colored beard. I didn’t know much about his story - only that Cotton Top’s real name was Ellison Mounts and was his illegitimate son, who he had taken in after Cotton’s mother passed away. The entire family was good to Cotton, despite his difficulties, and they were also fiercely protective. Cotton’s positivity was something that no one could deny, and he never failed to make you smile. I even saw Devil Anse chuckle once at his antics.

Elias, or Good Lias, was the youngest of the brothers, and he really just seemed happy to be there. He played with the kids, joked with the adults, and was just pleasant company in general. Lias looked incredibly similar to the last person to join us for dinner, his uncle Jim Vance, though they couldn’t have been more different in personalities.

Jim Vance was rough, crude, and rather unpleasant. As soon as he learned I was from the North he spat at my feet and made some comment about a “piece of Yankee bull” under his breath. I heard it, and I was sure Anse did as well, but he didn’t say anything. Much to my dismay, Cap seemed to look up to Jim almost as much as he did his Pa, though I couldn’t really see why.

I was quizzed with the normal questions about my family (“Only child?” “What type of law did your Pa practice?”) and life in the city, answering as Lavicy and I had practiced. The menfolk soon lost interest in me, however, and went right back to chatting about work and eventually, the McCoys.

My ears perked up at this, just as Roseanna’s cheeks reddened. Jim Vance had apparently gotten in a bit of an altercation at the saloon the night before.

“Damn McCoys best watch their back,” he grumbled, petting his dog on the head. “I won’t have none of them disrespecting me no more. Next one I see gets a bullet between the eyes.”

“That’s enough talk,” Lavicy said sternly, shooting a look in my direction, which Jim caught. I had raised my eyebrows involuntarily at his comment, as it seemed a bit harsh, but I quickly wiped my face of all emotion. Unfortunately, Jim caught my reaction.

“Don’t want me upsettin’ the Yankee?” he asked mockingly. I was surprised Anse let him talk to Lavicy that way, but Cap’s father just took another drag of his pipe. “Well, she’s here now. Right in the thick of it. Best she learns or else she’s gonna have herself a baptism by fire, I’ll tell you.”

“Can we not talk about this?” Johnse said with a groan, partly for the benefit of Roseanna, I was sure, and partly because I think he was tired of hearing about it.

“We sure as hell will talk about this,” Jim Vance snapped back, glaring at his great nephew. “This is your family, boy! This is about respect, revenge and honor. You remember when those cowards Paris and Samuel McCoy killed your cousin Bill Staton a few years back? Murdered in cold blood, he was.”

“I ain’t surprised by it none! Bill was a drunk and had it comin’,” Johnse responded, “mouthin’ off like he was.”

Jim Vance suddenly had a thunderous look on his face. “That ain’t the point!” he hollered, standing up and looming over Johnse, who now looked like a boy of eight rather than a man of 21 underneath the angry gaze of Jim. “Them damn McCoys ain’t nothin’ but lying, thievin’, murderin’ sons of bitches and soon as you realize that, the better.” He calmed himself down with a swig of whiskey, before sitting back down and mumbling to himself, “blinded by that McCoy whore of yours,” just loud enough for everyone to hear.

Johnse jumped out of his seat in defense of Roseanna, but was immediately held back by Ellison and Cap, while Jim sat in his chair and laughed with condescension.

“Ah sit down, boy, I’m only teasing.” It was clear he wasn’t. It was clear he hated the McCoys, Roseanna included, with every fiber of his being.

Roseanna was on the verge of tears but still had not made a peep. Lias, Lavicy and Wall all looked tired; Anse had the decency to look annoyed with his uncle.

“I think we best call it a night,” he said calmly, but the authority was still there.

I slowly released the grip I had on the side of my chair, not realizing just how tightly I was holding it. I had witnessed drunken altercations between family members, usually at holidays over how to cook a turkey or which football team should win. But never over a murder. Or someone’s girlfriend who was sitting right there. The visitors left one by one, and I made a point not to make eye contact with Jim Vance, or even give him a proper farewell. He was on my shit list.

Soon it was me, Johnse and Cap cleaning up the room – putting chairs back and such. Lavicy and Roseanna were doing dishes on the other side of the room, without speaking one word to each other. I couldn’t get used to the coldness of some of the Hatfield family, especially when it was so opposite the warmth of others.

“Bet you’re wondering what all that was about,” Johnse said to me, helping me move a bench back to the kitchen table. “Wouldn’t blame ya, if you were.”

“It’s okay,” I replied, even though I was desperately curious. “It’s none of my business, really.”

“Well, it sort of is now,” Cap said and I looked over at him. “Jim was right, you’re here now. You’re against them just as much as we are.”

“We ain’t against nobody,” Johnse replied, dropping his voice and looking over his shoulder to see if Roseanna had heard. “It’s because of stupid stuff with Pa that happened years ago. Ain’t got nothin’ to do with us.”

“You know that ain’t true, Johnse.”

“Yeah, well, it’s crazy. Roseanna and I ain’t done nothin’. Hell, I don’t even care about what her brothers did to me. All that this shit has done is kept me from marryin’ the woman I love.”

Johnse, no matter how dimwitted he was at times, was a bit of hopeless romantic. It was quite cute.

“What did her brothers do?” I asked, folding a blanket.

“Shot him,” Cap replied before Johnse could sugar coat it.

“Seriously?” I asked in disbelief. “They shot you? Why?”

Johnse sent a glare at his brother before sighing. “It was all a misunderstandin’, ya see. They saw me kissin’ on Roseanna and thought I’d violated her, stolen her virtue and such.”

“And had you?”

“No, course not,” he replied, but not very convincingly. I gave him a look. “Anyway, it don’t matter now, does it? They didn’t kill me and I healed up good as new.”

“It’s all very 'Romeo and Juliet', if you ask me,” I commented with a shrug. This was met with silence and I looked up to see the two of them staring at me with blank expressions. “Romeo and Juliet? William Shakespeare?” They blinked.

When I first said it, I hadn’t been thinking. But I hadn’t really made a mistake – Romeo and Juliet wasn’t exactly a new concept. But, then again, even with Cap reading quite a bit, I didn’t expect the English poet had been on his 9th grade reading list. (I had only learned that they stopped their schooling at 16, essentially, and were all homeschooled). “It’s a play,” I explained. “Star-crossed lovers, Romeo Montague and Juliet Capulet, from two feuding families. There are misunderstandings, family rivalry, and revenge murders…but through it all Romeo and Juliet love each other, despite what their families think. It’s really beautiful, actually. The most famous speech…hold on, let me remember it. ‘Romeo, oh Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name, or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love and I’ll no longer be a Capulet.’”

Johnse and Cap both looked at me – Johnse with a silly grin and Cap…well, Cap looked impressed. I felt myself blushing.

“I didn’t understand half of what you just said, Miss Yankee, but I think I like it,” Johnse beamed.

“The girl’s asking him to give up his family name,” Cap offered, not taking his eyes off of me. “And if he won’t, she’ll do it for him.”

“Exactly,” I replied with a smile. “She goes on to ask why names are so important. ‘That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet.’ She doesn’t care what his name is, as long as he is her Romeo.”

“I think I like this play,” Johnse said. “I really need to read more.”

“But names are apart of you,” Cap interjected, looking at me. “In an ideal world, you wouldn’t have to sacrifice anythin’, but the world ain’t ideal. Your name and your family, they define who you are.”

“Only if you let them.” He stared at me for a moment and I stared back, wondering if I had offended him. Johnse, as ever, interrupted the moment.

“So what happens?”

“What?” I looked at him.

“What happens to Romeo and Juliet? Do their families make up?”

“Oh…well, no.” I mentally slapped myself. “They…well, they die in the end.” Johnse’s face fell.

“Well, that don’t sound too romantic to me.”

“It’s a tragedy,” I said quickly, trying to back track a bit. “I mean, it’s horribly sad, but also really beautiful. It happens that Romeo kills Juliet’s cousin and gets banished, so Juliet pretends to commit suicide so she can be with him, but Romeo thinks Juliet’s actually killed herself because so she was so upset they couldn’t be together, so then he kills himself to be with her in death, but then she comes back to life and sees him dead so she stabs herself with his dagger.” The boys blinked and I realized I should probably just give up. “You know what, forget I said anything.”

Johnse took a breath and looked at me, shaking his head slightly. “You Yankees read some depressin’ stuff, let me tell you. Best not tell that story to Roseanna, though,” he added in an undertone, before heading over to his girlfriend.

I looked back to Cap who had a small, amused smile on his face. I flushed with embarrassment. I really should just learn to keep my mouth shut.

“Mama,” Robert E said, bursting into the room. “I just saw Charlie O’Connell down near the road when I was sayin’ bye to Uncle Ellison. He said there’s a barn dance at the Wolford’s tonight. Can I go?”

Lavicy looked at her son. “Is this because you want to see young Mariah?” she asked, eyebrows raised. Johnse wolf whistled and Robert E glared.

“Everyone’s gonna be there.”

Lavicy sighed. “Did you ask your father?”

“He said to ask you.”

“It’s already late,” she said, but looked like she might give in. “Alright, you can go. But Only if your brothers go with you.”

Robert E turned to Johnse and Cap, eyes pleading.

“What do you say, Roseanna?” Johnse asked, smiling at her. “Feel like a dance?”

“I’m not feelin’ too good,” she said, though I could tell she was lying. The conversation earlier had really gotten to her. “Might just stay and get some rest. You go, though.”

“You sure?”

Cap turned to me. “Interested in seein’ a real southern barn dance?”

I was, actually, but looked to Lavicy to approval. “Go,” she said with a kind smile. “You’ve not left the house since you got here. Do you good to meet some new people.”

I grinned genuinely for the first time since I’d been there. Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in the back of a wagon with Nancy and Robert E, while Cap and Johnse drove us down the hill.

It was a bit of an odd sight, I suppose, an actual barn all decorated, with a stage and loads of young folks dancing and mingling. A barn social was something that I saw in movies about undefeated Texas high school football teams hoping to win the big one or towns were the mayor has decided that dancing is prohibited, only to be undermined by a smooth talking Kevin Bacon. But here I was, at a barn owned by the Wolford family, right near the river, with lanterns and streamers and string band fiddling away. It was surreal.

“There’s Mariah,” Robert E said, jumping off the back of the wagon and dashing over to a pretty young girl was dark hair. I looked at Johnse, who smirked at his little brother.

“Ah, young love,” he grinned at me and I rolled my eyes. When I was just with Johnse or Cap or the younger kids, I felt more at ease, more like I could be myself. I didn’t need to watch my every step around them, and it seemed they appreciated my sarcasm and “Yankee-ness” a bit more than the adults.

“You’re one to talk,” I replied, moving to get down from the wagon. Cap appeared in front of me, holding his hand out for me to take.

“Thanks,” I said, looking at him. I was still finding Cap hard to read. Unlike Johnse, who said just about whatever popped into his head, Cap played his cards close to his chest. Like his father, he was stoic most of the time, but I had seen him laugh and smile with his brothers and sisters a few times. He wasn’t completely without a sense of humor. Our discussion about Romeo and Juliet earlier felt like we had crossed into a deeper level of friendship.

“Hey, Hatfields!”

We looked at a group of young men who were drinking by the side of the barn. They waved us over, and I looked to Johnse and Cap.

“Hey, come meet some of our friends,” Johnse said to me.

“I’m going to go see Annabelle and Penny,” Nancy said, looking to her brothers for approval.

“Alright, but don’t go runnin’ off anywhere without sayin’ nothin',” Johnse said, as she skipped off into the crowd.

I followed the two blonde boys to the cart where four men were sitting and drinking.

“Howdy Cap, Johnse,” the oldest one said, nodding to them both. His hair was black save for a flash of white across the front. He was older than both Cap and Johnse, possibly close to thirty, a bit too old to be at a barn dance, if you asked me. “Who’s the girl?”

“This is Emma Anderson,” Johnse introduced me. “She’s come to stay with us for a while. Emma, this is Tom Wallace, though everyone calls him Skunkhair. This here is French Ellis, Lark Varney, and the one at the back is Alex Messer.” I smiled at them in greeting. They all seemed friendly enough, though I doubted I would be calling anyone ‘Skunkhair’.

“Nice to meet you guys.”

They glanced at each other and grinned.

“Woowee,” French said, elbowing his friend sharply. “We got a Yankee girl on our hands, Larky.”

“You best watch yourself, Miss Emma,” Alex said, leaning forward with a smile. “You’ll be mighty popular, I bet my life on it.”

“Really?” I asked, slightly unsure if he was kidding or not. “I’d think the Yankee bit would make me unpopular.” I’d gotten enough grief from Jim Vance over the past week to know that the Civil War was still alive and well for a lot of folks.

“Fifteen years ago, maybe,” Tom said with an easy shrug. “But right now, I’d say you’d be quite a catch for some young fella.” He winked and I raised my eyebrow at him.

“Nice try, but I’m not into skunks.”

The boys hooted and hollered; even Cap cracked a smile. Girls who spoke their minds were a rare commodity, it seemed.

“Well, she is a pistol, ain’t she, Johnse?” Lark asked. “You got yourself a handful!”

“Oh, we ain’t together,” Johnse replied sheepishly, looking at me. “Roseanna just ain’t feelin’ all that well so she decided to stay back at home.”

The boys glanced at one another. Apparently, Roseanna didn’t have much interaction with them. As a McCoy, I doubt she was ever really invited.

“We best be headin’ in,” Cap said. “I promised Betsy Lightbridge a dance.” His friends clapped and wolf-whistled and I rolled my eyes. Men really were the same no matter what century you were in.

Johnse and Cap lead me into the barn, and I took in all the people. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to meet people, it was just that this was a bit overwhelming. I didn’t want to make some awkward faux-pas, say something I shouldn’t, or just make a outright foot of myself. Not to mention that I didn’t know the music – which had been the reason that I thought I would enjoy myself.

I really missed my iPod.

Taking in my surroundings had distracted me just long enough for Johnse to disappear. Cap was still near me, but he was talking with another guy. I stood there, searching for Johnse over the heads of others. He was the easiest to talk to, but I didn’t really want to burden him by being clingy.

“Looks like Johnse’s found somethin’ to keep him entertained,” Cap said in my ear, pointing over to the far side of the barn near the punch bowl (yes, there was actually a punch bowl), where Johnse was standing over some red head, smiling charmingly down at her.

I looked at Cap. “He isn’t going to…you know…”

The idea that Johnse might cheat on Roseanna infuriated me, and I didn’t want my night to be ruined that easily.

“Naw, he won’t do nothin’,” Cap replied with an easy shrug. “Johnse only has one mode when talkin’ to girls, and that’s flirtin’.”

That I could agree with. “So I don’t need to smack him on Roseanna’s behalf?”

Cap grinned and I found myself smiling because of it. “You could do that anyway, I wouldn’t mind. Be mighty entertainin’ if you ask me.”

I smiled back at him, happy that we had a bit of break through. We stood there for a moment, watching the rest of the people.

“Aren’t you going to go find Betty?” I asked, finding that I didn’t really want him to.

“What? Oh, you mean Betsy. Yeah…” Cap trailed off a bit and ran a hand through his hair. “I might have made that up, ya see.”

“Why?”

He gave a sardonic smile. “Not too many girls want to dance with Fog Eye.”

I frowned. Cap was good-looking, hell, I’ll say it: Cap was hot. Even with a white eye. It added to his mystery, his aura. But I guess I could understand how many girls might be put off by it. It seemed girls were the same across centuries, too.

“Well, I’d dance with you,” I offered. “Only I don’t know any of the songs.”

“It’s alright,” he said. “You don’t need to be nice about it, I’m not a big dancer anyways.” I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t just being nice, that I would truly dance with him, but we were distracted by a scuffle outside.

“Excuse me a minute,” he said with a sigh, before disappearing from my side and out to the front of the barn. It seemed as if Tom had had a bit too much to drink and decided it would be the perfect time to confront another semi-intoxicated individual. I felt like I was at a UNC frat party. With a Confederacy theme.

I stood for a few minutes on my own, tapping my feet gently to the music. I liked it, it was folk and country, and that was always playing at my house, I just didn’t know the tunes, and it seemed there was supposed to be a certain dance for each song. Sick of looking like an awkward loner, I wandered over to the refreshments table and got myself a drink.

“Hello, darlin’.” I looked to my left to see a tall, burly guy looking down at me, a lopsided, somewhat predatory smile on his face. Frat parties had prepared me for this too. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.” He looked like a typical farm boy – dusty hair, square jaw, dirty shirt.

“That would make sense,” I replied, nodding. “Only got here a couple of weeks ago.” Not interested, screamed every pore, but he didn’t read body language very well.

“What’s your name?”

“Emma,” I replied shortly, deciding to go for the line all girls who just wanted to be left alone went to. “Waiting for my boyfriend to come back, so…yeah.”

“How is it you got a boyfriend if you’ve only been here a few weeks?” He asked, giving me an annoyed look.

“It means she ain’t interested, Tolbert,” a dark haired guy said from my other side. He picked up a cup and took a sip. He was cute – brown hair swept across his forehead, wide brown eyes and a five o’clock shadow. He was also considerably more pleasant looking than the tall oaf.

“I think that’s up for her to decide,” the aforementioned Tolbert (Tolbert? Really?) replied, taking a step closer to me. Instinctively, I stepped toward the smaller and less intimidating one.

“Nope, he’s right,” I said quickly. “Not interested. Thanks, though.” Tolbert glared at me and the guy.

“Fine by me, don’t need no Yankee anyway.”

If I was supposed to feel insulted, I didn’t, and gave Tolbert a little wave as he stalked away. Dad always told me not to settle on just any guy, in any situation. I wasn’t shy when it came to men, though that didn’t mean that I had had a huge number of boyfriends. I could just handle myself.

“Sorry about my brother,” the other guy said, as I turned to look at him. “He’s a bit thick at times.”

“Your brother?” I asked, eyebrows raised. “Wow, I hope you home life isn’t affected much by that encounter.”

“Nah,” he said with an easy smile. “My other brothers can hold him off if needs be.”

“How many brothers do you have?”

“Three older, two younger. And three sisters.” What was it with the backwoods families and their insane numbers of children? “I’m Calvin, by the way.”

“Emma,” I said, giving him a smile. “And yes, I am a Yankee. Apparently that’s a big deal to everyone.”

“Sure is,” he said with a grin. “But don’t worry, we ain’t gonna hold it against you. More like you’re a novelty ‘round here, is all.”

“I think I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should.” I looked at him and smiled, realizing he was flirting with me. And it wasn’t in a creepy way like Tolbert, or in an over-the-top-so-didn’t-mean-anything way like Johnse. And I found that I didn’t mind that much with Calvin. It was nice to think that I might be interesting enough for boys to take notice, but also that I was fitting enough not to scare them away.

“So, Miss Emma,” he smiled, “do you dance?”

“Unfortunately not when I don’t know the steps,” I admitted.

“Well, lucky for you then,” he said, putting his cup down, “I’m an excellent teacher.” I had to laugh at his charm, and that smile was hard to resist.

“Alright,” I gave in, gathering my courage. “But just one.”

One turned to five as Calvin attempted to teach me the steps to fast paced fiddle songs that came so quickly I had trouble figuring out where one song ended and the next began. I was out of breath from laughing and spinning – Calvin was actually a horrible teacher, and it turned out he didn’t actually know the steps to most of the songs either, so we just kept getting in other people’s way. But I didn’t care – for the first time since I’d been here, I was having a lot of fun, not worrying about what other people thought, and letting loose. I didn’t need to think about going home at the moment, and I liked it that way.

The song ended and laughing, I leaned on Calvin, catching my breath. His arm found it’s way around my waist. As the next song started, I recognized it immediately, which caught me completely off guard.

“Holy shit, I know this one!” I exclaimed. Calvin looked at me, surprised I had used such language, but quickly regained his composure.

“I was gonna say, if you didn’t know it you best learn it quick. This here’s the Confederate anthem.”

I didn’t care what it was, only that I knew the words. Grabbing Calvin’s hands I pulled him deeper into the dance floor, as 'I Wish I Was In Dixie' played in full swing. We linked arms and spun, sung at the top of our lungs along with all the other good southern kids. I found myself linking arms with other people, laughing and singing, suddenly feeling like I could do this. I could be apart of this. And the idea didn’t scare me as much anymore.

As the song ended, I clapped my hands above my head in appreciation, before wiping the sweat from my forehead. Cotton skirts and shirts did not breathe well, especially when surrounded by dozens of other people wearing the same things. At least the guys could unbutton their shirts a bit. I rolled my sleeves up past my elbows, catching my breath.

“You wanna get some air?” Calvin asked and I nodded eagerly. Anything to cool down.

We headed outside and Calvin led me over to a wagon that was parked near some hay bales. He reached in and grabbed a green glass bottle, pulling the cork out with his teeth.

“Want some ‘shine?” he asked, taking a swig.

“Some moonshine?” I clarified. Of course, I knew what moonshine was, I was a college student after all, but I had never had it.

“Don’t they have that up north?” he asked, teasing.

“Not really, no,” I replied, knowing the truth was too complicated to get into. Part of me knew it probably wasn’t the best idea to accept alcohol from a complete stranger, but I doubted that they had invented roofies at this point in history. Besides, when in Rome, right? The exhilaration of the night had really gotten to me, I was throwing caution to the wind.

Taking the bottle from him, I took a quick gulp. The liquid burned all the way down my throat and I nearly gagged – it was disgusting. Calvin laughed at my reaction.

“You’ll get used to it, Emma Yankee,” he said sitting down on the hay. I sat down beside him.

“Let me try again,” I said, determined to get at least something right. It was still disgusting, but I was prepared for the burning sensation this time. Lord, it was strong. After just two gulps, I could already feel my cheeks tingle.

“So, tell me about yourself Miss Emma Anderson,” Calvin said, taking a sip for himself and leaning back against the bales, giving me a smile. “What bring you down to Mate Creek, West Virginia?”

“My parents died. In a fire.”

Calvin’s smile faltered and he looked away, embarrassed. “I think you need this more than I do, then,” he said, gently putting the moonshine back in my hand.

The conversation turned to lighter topics, and soon enough I was laughing again. Tonight was the first night since I arrived that I wasn’t thinking about home, and whether it was the music, Calvin or the moonshine, I was finally starting to accept that this is my new life.

“Emma?” Laughing at some ridiculous story Calvin had told me about his brothers, I looked up to Cap, was standing over us, seeming utterly unimpressed.

Calvin jumped to his feet, his laughter dying off somewhat.

“Hiya, Cappy,” I grinned up at him. He really was attractive, even with that scowl on his face.

“Hey, Cap,” Calvin added, looking between the two of us and awkwardly shifting on his feet. “You alright?”

“Is she drunk?” Cap asked, still staring at me, his voice hard.

“I’m not!” I replied quickly, trying to stand. I honestly didn’t think I was, but as soon as I wasn’t sitting anymore the moonshine went straight to my head. Maybe I had had a bit more than I realized. With a sway and a “woo!” I stumbled into Calvin, laughing. “Okay, maybe a bit.”

Anger flared in Cap’s good eye. “You shittin’ me, McCoy?” He growled, shoving Calvin back.

“Hey,” I protested sadly. Then it clicked. “Wait…McCoy? Like, a real McCoy?”

“Watch it Cap,” Calvin warned, his smile disappearing. “We ain’t done nothin’ wrong. Just havin’ a bit of fun is all. She never said she was with you.”

“Hey, do you know Roseanna?” I asked him, suddenly seeing a bit of a resemblance. Calvin’s faced darkened.

“She’s my sister.”

“Come on, Emma,” Cap said, and I saw what looked like sympathy cross his face as looked at Calvin. “It’s time for us to get goin’.”

“Oh, is it over?” I asked, realizing that I couldn’t hear the music anymore. But Cap already had his arm around my waist and was guiding me away from the McCoy. “Bye Calvin,” I said over my shoulder, waving at him. “Thanks for the dances.”

“See ya ‘round, Emma.” And then he was lost in the crowd.

Cap led me deftly through the people, ignoring the stares they gave us. Even in my tipsy state, I noticed, though, and was bothered by is.

“Why are they looking at us?” I asked, gripping his arm for stability.

“Cause we make quite a pair, you and I,” he replied, looking down at me. “The drunk Yankee and the one eyed freak.”

“I am not drunk,” I repeated, with a giggle. Cap, however, didn’t seem wholly amused with the situation, even if he was being nice to me.

“You’ll forgive me for not believin’ you.”

“And you,” I said, looking up at him with my most serious expression. “Are not a one eyed freak. You’re a one eyed gentleman.”

A flash of a smile crossed his face and I considered it a victory. We reached the wagon were Johnse was waiting with Nancy.

“Where’s Robert E?” Cap asked, helping me get into the back of the cart.

“Went to stay at the O’Connell’s. Enjoy your night, Miss Yankee?”

“Sure did,” I replied, standing up in the back and surveying the dispersing crowd. “Even had my first taste of real West Virginia moonshine.” Cap shot Johnse a look.

“From who?” the older brother asked, looking confused.

“Calvin McCoy,” I responded, noticing immediately the look that passed between the siblings. “Only I didn’t know he was Calvin McCoy at the time. Just Calvin, brother of Humbert.”

“You mean Tolbert?” Johnse asked, trying not to smile. “Why Miss Yankee, you are three sheets to the wind, I reckon.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means,” Cap said, stepping up into the wagon next to me. “That you best sit down and sober up before we get home, or Pa is gonna tan your hide.”

Johnse suddenly looked a bit nervous. “Not to mention ours.”