LITMIR.BIZ

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could get the remainder she needed from the miners’ union if her former teacher could advise her how to do it.

      And the woman did recommend Beth for a grant, which was awarded immediately. More practical help came from a friend, Pam Gordon. Pam had married Ray Gordon when she was fifteen and moved to Pineville in a neighboring county. When Pam heard about Beth’s plans, she insisted that Beth should pay her a visit.

      “I’ll help you find clothes that won’t cost you a great deal,” she promised. “You won’t need to buy new things. Since Ray is going to Lexington next week to play with his bluegrass band, we’ll go along, and I’ll take you to a ‘second-best’ store where they have really nice name-brand clothing for much less than you can buy it in retail stores. What you need are jeans and shirts, and if they’re somewhat worn, it won’t matter. High-school kids like them better that way.” She laughed. Under Pam’s guidance, Beth had come home from Pineville with enough outfits to satisfy her school needs.

      Now, as she listened to a blustery wind blowing snow around the motel, Beth remembered how frightened she had been on the first day of school when she’d stood in front of Grandmother Ella Blaine’s home and watched the yellow bus approaching.

      For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to run back to the hollow and stay there for the rest of her life. She knew what awaited her at home, but if she stepped on the bus, an unknown future loomed ahead. But should she give up her dreams so easily? Florence Nightingale hadn’t.

      Fortunately, Beth’s mind was diverted from her own problems when a couple of children, who lived in the house adjacent to her grandmother’s, came out their door. The little boy was walking on crutches, his right leg encased in a cast When they reached Beth’s side, his sister explained, “Bryce broke his leg last week and since this is his first day at school, he’s scared. Mom would have taken us this morning, but the baby is sick.”

      Beth looked at Bryce, whose lips were trembling, and his hands were shaking on the crutches.

      “Come on, Bryce,” she said. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ll help you onto the bus.”

      When the bus stopped in front of them, the driver swung open the door and smiled at Beth. She threw the strap of her knapsack over her shoulder and held Bryce around the waist as he awkwardly climbed the steps. The bus driver took the boy’s hand, and with his help, Beth settled him into a front seat beside his sister.

      “You’ll be fine, Bryce,” she told him with a smile, and indeed, the boy did look less fearful now that he’d cleared the first hurdle. With that act of kindness, Beth’s future was launched—not only as a high-school student, but also as a care provider.

      The bus lurched into motion before Beth found a seat, and she quickly surveyed the students on board. A few of the faces were familiar—teens she had seen at miners’ rallies on Labor Day—but no one greeted her. Perhaps they felt ill at ease, too. The first few seats were empty, but she moved farther back into the bus, hoping to find a friendly face.

      One boy smiled, and said, “This seat is empty. You’d better take it. The bus will be full before we get to school.”

      “Thanks,” Beth said, and as she sat beside him on the narrow seat, their shoulders touched, giving Beth a secure feeling.

      “I saw you helping that little fellow onto the bus. Is he your brother?”

      “No—I’ve never seen him before. I’m staying with my grandmother, and the children are her neighbors. He felt scared and needed a little help.”

      “That was nice of you.” His words were simple but his appreciative glance conveyed much more. His brown eyes twinkled with love of life, and she liked his keen and serene expression. On that first day, she had noticed deep dimples in his cheeks when he smiled. He had a bronzed, lean face, with a firm mouth.

      “This your first year in high school?” he asked.

      “Yes, I could have gone last year, but my folks discouraged me. They didn’t try to prevent it this year—maybe because I’m older.”

      “How old are you, anyway?”

      “Fifteen, but I’ll have a birthday in December. What grade are you in?”

      “This is my senior year.”

      Though she could tell he was older than herself, Beth hadn’t guessed he was a senior.

      “What do you want to do when you finish?” she asked him.

      “Go to work in the mines, I reckon,” he replied. “My daddy is disabled, and the family has been sacrificing to let me finish high school. It’ll be my turn to work now, and help my little sisters. By the way, my name is Clark Randolph.”

      Beth turned startled green eyes in his direction. A Randolph! Just my luck, she thought. When the bus slowed down to pick up other students, without speaking again, Beth moved to another seat, then stared out the window as the bus weaved in and out of the narrow streets of Harlan.

      Why of all the places on this bus did she have to have sat beside a Randolph? If John Warner heard about it, that would be the end of her high-school days. For as long as she could remember, Beth had been taught that Warners and Randolphs were enemies. No one had ever spelled out why in so many words, but her father’s shotgun was always loaded against the Randolphs, and it galled John Warner that he had to live in the shadow of Randolph Mountain.

      By the time Beth had been born, hostilities were confined to fights at dances, or backing opposing candidates in elections, but from the tales she had heard, in the early days of the century, the feud had been a bloody one.

      After World War II and the closure of many mines, most of the Warners and Randolphs had scattered to other vicinities, and there weren’t many left in the mountains to carry on the feud. Still, John Warner continued to nurse the grudge and would cross the street rather than come face-to-face with any Randolph. So why did that cute, friendly boy have to be a Randolph?

      When the bus stopped at the elementary school, Beth helped Bryce get down from the vehicle, and smiled when a waiting teacher took charge of the boy. “I’ll help you off the bus tonight, Bryce, so don’t worry,” she called to him, and he waved shyly at her.

      She’d been so caught up in Bryce’s problem that she’d forgotten for a while the unknown awaiting her. She realized that she didn’t have any idea where to go to enroll, so when the bus stopped at the high school she remained seated while the other students exited. When Clark passed by her, he paused, pointing, “You go through that door and turn to the right to reach the office. That’s where you have to register.” She nodded her thanks, and he motioned for her to precede him down the aisle.

      As she moved toward the doors he had indicated, Clark said, “You didn’t tell me your name.”

      “Beth Warner.”

      The distress in Clark’s brown eyes was quickly replaced by laughter. “Oh, I see,” he said knowingly. “That’s too bad.”

      For the next two months, Beth was keenly aware of Clark as she boarded the bus each morning. If she met his gaze, he’d nod hello with a big smile. She’d nod back, but she carefully avoided any conversation with him. Occasionally, as he passed her seat, Clark would tug tenderly on her hair and lay his warm hand on her shoulder, but she ignored him. Her ears were always alert to any comment about Clark by her friends, and she had learned that he lived with his family in the Harlan school district, but that they also had a country home where they spent weekends and summers.

      To her surprise, Beth did well academically in school, and soon had friends among girls who were much like her—those with very little money, from large families, and who received scant encouragement at home for furthering their education.

      Beth made friends cautiously, but her shy, affectionate smile endeared her to teachers and students alike. That she seemed unaware of her rare beauty—which was accented by a firm little chin below even, white teeth, and a shapely mouth with full lips—made her peers take

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