In the fall of 1952 in Oak Hill, West Virginia, a new housekeeper and her daughter arrive at the home of a coal baron. Two hapless ne'er-do-wells mistake the child as the baron's daughter, and lay plans for a kidnapping.
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About the Author
T.W. McNemar is an award winning humor, short story, and novel writer. His work reflects the humanity and conscience of everyday life in the Appalachian Mountains of West Virginia that he calls home. His work has been featured in The Johns-Hopkins `ScribblePress', Ratliff's `Young Women's Monologues', MountainEchoes, and Traditions.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Prologue: Moving day
August 1, 1952. If you take Route 19 south and go about ten miles below Tenneytown, you can turn left onto a rock and mostly dirt road called Otter Run. As you travel down Otter Run through that valley, along that small stream, it'll lead you to a fork in the road. The left leg of that fork is marked with a steel pipe topped by a piece of sheet metal in the shape of an arrow imprinted with the number of a gas well and the name Cathedral Oil and Gas. That leg of the road seems to be more of a path, but that's the way you'll go, and you'll come up a grade to the elbow of that hill where it forms Otter Hollow. The cool of the morning has wandered off to the shade of the woods and hills leaving the air hot and still. On this morning a woman and a child are staring down that road, waiting, and it's a quarter till ten. Staring down a hot dirt road won't keep a child occupied, not this child anyway. The birds are still sailing about finishing a breakfast of flyers and crawlers but the child bored of watching them and she consoled herself by quizzing her Mother. "Who's gonna live here now, Mom?" "Don't know, baby girl, I just don't know," said the Mother. She sat on the trunk while the child strolled heel to toe about with her wrists at delicate angles. It wasn't often the child got to wear her dress, but today was moving day. "Who's gonna get our stuff, Mom?" said the child referring to the `leavins'. " Whoever wants `em, darlin'." "Well, I hope they take care of it." "Me too, darlin', me too." As the Mother shielded her eyes and tried focusing into the distance, the child dropped to a squat and smoothed a patch of loose dust and began sketching the house and herself in the cotton dress. Her Mother inhaled sharply at the sight of the child kneeling in the dirt. The child jumped up and quickly wiped her hands on the dress. Realizing her error, the child whispered, "aw poop." Her Mother brushed the dress off with enough force to remove the dust and to help her daughter remember to keep clean. At that moment the whine of a flathead six cylinder with the hydromatic drive of a `49 Dodge reached the hill's top as the old driver mercilessly ground second gear. When the new and improved auto shift transmission failed to engage the driver barked an expression that echoed past the girl and her mother unnoticed and within moments, the black sedan stood before them. "You Hobert's girl?" "Yes, yes I am. Are you Mister Freeland?" "Was you expectin' somebody else? Put your gear in the trunk and get in. Best move if you `spect to make that bus." He gestured toward the child. "That yours?" "Yes, she's my daughter..." "Well get her in here. I ain't got all day." The black sedan ground its gears, going into reverse and then again as it retreated from the hollow. A long steel antenna waved mercilessly with each turn of the car. Mounted on the driver's door was a 3000 candlepower spotlight. "I worked with your daddy up at the Dutch Coal strip job before I was elected constable, you know. This ain't one of my constable duties. I'm doin' this on account o' I knowed your daddy. He was good people, he was. Now, where you goin' to agin?" "Oak Hill," she said. "Everybody's always goin' someplace. I say they're just runnin' to something or runnin' from something. That's just something I figured out from being in the law awhile. What you goin' to Oak Hill for, girl?" he said leaning close enough for her to smell the sour breath of the Prince Albert tobacco blended with the scent of an early morning aperitif of a budget lager beer. "I got a job in Oak Hill." "Oh. A job. Well, what is it with you, girl? Are you runnin' to something or runnin' away from something?" he asked with the wise knowing nod of a seasoned law man. She smiled cordially and to his confusion replied, "Yep." Lawrence Freeland focused on the road as the wooden match lit the freshly rolled cigarette. He mumbled something unintelligible in reply as the smoke escaped his lungs with a cough and, with his best shift of the morning, the Dodge found high gear. The radio static cleared just enough to hear Hank Williams' "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry" and much to the young mother's amazement and the child's amusement, the lawman turned up the volume and began singing along with the radio. With a steady whine from the transmission and a whine from the singing lawman, the car meandered its way on the twisting blacktop toward the bus stop at the Mountaintop Restaurant and Filling Station.
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
2 of 2 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Enjoyable read,
By Obie_1952 (New England) - See all my reviews
This review is from: Ragdoll Angel (Paperback)
This is a enjoyable light read that can be accomplished in a few days of ones leisure time. The discriptive text lends you a view of a place and time in the authors beloved home state. I enjoyed reading how each character evolved/developed and contributed to the tale. The authors research into the era is impecable and as a child of the 50's I was able to relate to many of the scenerios decribed in the story. So, what are you waitin' around for????.........pick yer'self up a copy, get'cha a cup o'joe, sit back and have a good read!
2 of 2 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Ragdoll Angel,
This review is from: Ragdoll Angel (Paperback)
In the early fall of 1952, a coal baron hires his housekeeper's niece to help with the upkeep of his mansion at the outskirts of Oak Hill, West Virginia. With the niece comes an entity that will completely annihilate the peace, grace, and solitude that a well-earned semi-retirement has brought the baron. A four and one-half year-old loud, brash, brazen, energetic, opinionated, argumentative tyrant of a girl-child has come to roost at the baron's home.
When the peace is shattered and the knowledge of what is to be sinks in, the baron looks toward the heavens and wonders `what have I done to my self?' What evolves is a love/hate relationship that takes the baron completely by surprise. The absolute nonsense of a grown, successful man befriending and enjoying the company of a four year old, part-time heathen is nothing less than magic. Then, in the midst of preparation for the Christmas holiday, she was gone.
1 of 1 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Fall in love with an Angel,
By
This review is from: Ragdoll Angel (Paperback)
Can a four year-old wreck the life of a well-established, respected coal baron? You betcha! Especially when that opinionated, energetic, wild child gets under his skin and into his heart. Just in time for Christmas, too, when she disappears from his life. Could the little girl's mentally unstable father have kidnapped her? Could disgruntled employees be holding her hostage for a ransom? Could the coal baron's heart really be broken by the loss of the tyrant-child who somehow became his best friend?
T.W. McNemar captured the lay of the land in Oak Hill, West Virginia, and the lay of the heart in the people of Appalachia. His voice reflects the melodious inflections of Appalachian dialect through his characters' dialogue, and his story depicts the magic of the region. You won't soon forget these mountain folk! A MUST READ!
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