[EDS: THE FOLLOWING DESCRIPTORS MAY BE USED WITH THIS SUBMISSION:
Mf, ped, preg, hist, rom]


Young Fire in Coal Country

Spirited Girl Determined to Prove She's a Woman



What they called the Mine War happened just a couple years ago.
They was trying to unionize the miners in Logan County, and they
was a big battle at the courthouse and Mayor Testerman was kilt.
Lots of us believe the sheriff, Sid Hatfield, done the killin,
specially since he turned up with the mayor's widow in a hotel in
Huntington bout a week later. Sheriff Hatfield later got kilt
himself as he was going to trial on a murder charge.

Most of this was lost on me as I was only about 18 when it all
happened, and I had a lot more on my mind. We wasn't doing so
good on the farm, but I was damned if I was going down in the
mines. Farming and mining was all there was in Logan, and farming
didn't hardly pay.

Pop said we needed money, and I was a big strapping fellow, so I
got a job unloading freight cars at the depot. You think that
wasn't some <I>work.</I> And all this in the summer in them
closed-up cars. And then I had to walk more'n two mile home.

I give most of my wages to Pop but kept one or two dollars. You
could get nickel beers down at Mary's, and she had a record
player, so she could play some music if you found somebody to
dance with. Weren't too many girls came in there though.

We all was told Mary 's husband had died in the mines over by
Matewan. There wasn't no service, but they say that was cause
Mary didnt have no money, and besides, they never got his body
out. Anyway, he left her with three young children. James was the
oldest. Brenda was 12, a couple years behind James. And John was
a year behind Brenda.

James did some odd jobs and was pretty handy for his age with a
saw and level. John sold papers, but that didnt bring in much.
Brenda mostly helped out around the house and every once in a
while helped her mama serve beer. Mary had a garden and sold
tomatoes and pickles and such. The children never begged or
looked hungry.

I hear some people helped Mary out with money time to time. Maybe
so. The house was small, so she couldn't even take in a boarder.

I didnt pay the kids a whole lot of attention. James and I would
kid around some. Brenda was pretty in a little-girl way. She was
a little tow-headed kid with her hair tied back. Seems like she
always wore a pair of hand-me-down overhauls -- maybe her
brother's, or maybe a throwaway Mary had found and stitched
together. She always had a clean white shirt underneath. Like I
say, all them kids seemed well-tended, and Mary was awful strict
with them.

Brenda come by at the depot couple times a week. Sometimes they
had boxes of whatever that was broke in shipment or was marked
undeliverable. She'd come by ever now and then and hunt through
them boxes. Sometimes she'd find something. I guess that was all
legal, but I didn't really care.

I seen James once on Post Road, and I ast him what Brenda could
find at the depot. "Once she got a kettle," James said. "Mama was
grateful for that. That's the onliest thing I can think of.

"What do you think of her?" he ast me, out of the blue. I opined
she was a nice kid. "I think she's kinda pretty," James said, and
I thought that was a little odd. "I seen her with her clothes off
once. It was a accident. She hollered at me and told me to shut
the door, so I did.

"She got titties, you know. Not much of em, but they's real
titties. That's about all I got to see."

"Like I say, she seems like a nice little girl," I told him. "I
aint never looked at her that way.

"So you gonna try to look at her again?" I continued. "You gonna
try to take advantage? Aint too much else up here in the county."

"Naw," James said. "I'm all stuck on that girl Hannah? McGraw's
daughter? She's a little older than me, but at least she been
broke. I can tell. Now that Brenda, she never been broke."

I turned and walked back toward town. I went by the depot, but I
didn't see Brenda. Course she hadn't been there that day, not
that I seen. I didn't have no money, so I couldn't go to Mary's.
But what James had said had opened a whole new twist to me
concerning Brenda. Like I say, I hadn't noticed her much. Maybe I
needed to give her more attention.

Well now, as it happened, I spied Brenda at the depot the next
day, digging through the boxes. I looked at her close from across
the track, standing in the car door. If she had titties, I really
couldn't make em out. But the idea of her not being broke -- why,
that never had occurred to me at'all.

Then I happened to notice her looking at <I>me.</I> She must've
seen me looking at her, and she quickly looked away. I looked
both ways for the track boss and didnt see him, so I jumped down
out of the car onto the dock, and I went up to her.

Why hi, Brenda," I says, cheery as I could be. "What brings you
here?"

"I'm sorry, Mister. I didn't catch your name," she says, trying
to keep her pride up whilst picking through the boxes.

"Aw, Brenda, you know me. Joe Haywood. I come in your mom's place
on Fridays for a beer or two. I think I done said hi to you in
there before."

"Yes, Mr. Haywood. I do recall." She wore the same overhauls and
her white shirt, clean as usual. Her mama must have washed that
shirt every night.

Well, I wasn't any too clean. I had on overhauls and no shirt --
nothing else, in fact, other than my boots. Course I was all red
and sweaty and grimy with grit and coal dust. Everything in the
town seemed to be covered in coal dust. Except maybe for Brenda's
shirt.

"You finding anything?" I asked, and she drew up proud again, and
I understood I'd spoke wrong. "I'm not looking for anything," she
snapped at me. I tried to kid her along so as to have a chance to
take a good look at her, and I begin to notice she did have kind
of a shape, and yes, maybe some titties. So I figured I'd get
right to the point.

"I talked to James? Your brother?" I began. "He told me he seen
you naked. He says he thinks you are real pretty."

Now <I>she</I> turned red. She paused a long time and looked left
and right, like checking so nobody could hear. "And what do you
think, Mister?"

She quickly corrected. "James?" she says. "Why, he's just a
little boy.".

"He's older than you," I come back.

"He acts like he so smart. He's a tadpole."

Brenda was kinda growing on me. She <I>was</I> sorta pretty in
the daylight. Fresh, clean face. Nice color. Light-brown hair,
almost blond. And like I say, a shape that was right on the edge
of growing up.

"HAYWOOD." It was the track boss, hollering and walking down the
dock with his stick. "Back in the cars, fool. C'mon boy, you're
on the clock. You aint got time to talk to li'l sis here."

 "I'll send you a note," I says to Brenda as I walked back to the
car. I seen the track boss trying to talk up Brenda, but she
turned and walked back toward town.

This was on a Wednesday. I went home that night and wrote a note
that said, "come by Friday at quittin bout 5 o clok. i will have
Money and i will walk with You sign mr Joe Haywood." I put it in
a envelope and tried to be sure I spelt "Brenda" right. Next
morning. on my way to work, I left the envelope in their mailbox.

Well, Friday come and nigh on to quittin time and what do you
know but I seen Brenda come up on the dock. At 5 o'clock I was
inside the depot with a load on a hand truck, so I laded it off
and went and gave my hours at the office. They counted out my pay
-- $15. Then I went out and looked for Brenda.

She was just idling. Seemed like she didn't want me to see her
digging around. So I calls to her, I says, "Hi Brenda." She says,
"Hi Mr. Haywood."

I laughed and said, "You can call me Joe." She says, "Joe."

She says, "What do you want with me?" I says, "Well, I just want
to talk to you and maybe walk you home." She says, "Well, I guess
that will be all right."

She was dressed like she always was, and I joked to her, I says,
"Your mama must wash that shirt every night." She looked very
serious and says, "No. <I>I</I> wash it every night and hang it
up to dry." I continued joking. "Well, suppose it ain't dry in
the morning?" Again, she give me a severe look and says, "It's
always dry."

Struck me I didn't know her very well at'all.

Pretty soon though, she loosened up and started talking friendly.
She said she had to quit school in fourth grade on account of
money. I told her I had got to sixth grade and lost interest in
it. She said she thought she needed a real job, but there wasn't
no jobs for girls in Logan County. I laughed and said, "Aw, girl,
I'll save my money and take you up to Charleston. Ought to be
plenty a girl can do there."

"Charleston?" she said. "That's a big place. Or even Cincinnati
or something." Well, at least the girl thought big. I surely had
no promise of being able to save for a trip to Charleston.

So I try to sound world-wise. "We got trains here that connect to
Cincinnati, at Huntington I think," I says. "I guess they connect
back westbound. Maybe we could hide out in the cars after
quitting time and figure which ones connect at Huntington."

"Oh, I'd be scared," Brenda said. "How would I get back if I got
lost, or something happened?" So I rubbed her head and told her I
wouldn't let that happen, and besides, I was just joking anyway.
She smoothed her hair with her hands. Her hands looked soft, not
like a working girl's. Maybe Mary wouldn't have her weed the
garden?

Now I'd been with a few girls, but nothing serious, and none of
them attracted me the way this little girl was beginning to. I
ast her how old she was, and at first she wouldn't tell me, even
though I already knew. Finally, she said, "I'm 12," and she
seemed a little embarrassed by it.

"Twelve years old and never been broke," I blurted out, and I
knew right away I'd made a mistake. She drew up and pulled away
from me and stopped in the street.

"That's a crude thing to say, <I>Mister</I> Haywood," she spat.
"Where did you hear that? Who told you that? Who's talking about
me? Was it that fool James?"

I felt stupid and nodded my head yes.

She continued. "What does <I>he</I> know? He don't know what boys
I been with, or men. He seen me with my clothes off <I>one</I>
time and thinks he knows everything. I shooed him out of the
room, and he run like a pup dog. That fool."

"Well, why would he say it?" I ast.

"He don't know nothing," she went on angrily.

"Look honey, I'm sorry I said something."

"Honey? Where you getting that kind of talk? I known you now for
15 minutes and you already calling me 'Honey'?"

I got to say, I was kinda amused by her, being so mad like this.
It showed spirit and made her sort of exciting. Like I say, this
little girl was growing on me. So I pushed on.

"So, have you? Have you been broke by a man?"

She balled up her fists, and I thought she meant to hit me. You
could see the smoke coming out her ears. Finally, she says,
"Course I been broke. By a man."

Well boy, that knocked me back a step. So this little girl has
been with a man, eh? Well, at least she <I>said</I> she had.

Now I was defnitely interested. I smiled at her and told her we'd
keep walking toward her home. Honest, I didnt know what to say
next.

"So you say," I said to her, "and I'm sorry about asking. But
who'd you give it to?"

"You ask too many questions," she says, looking at the ground as
she walked. "That's none of your business."

"Suppose i was to say I don't believe you?" We was a block from
her house.

She walked on silently. When we got to her house, I pushed her
into the passageway between her house and the one next door. I
pushed her up against the wall and kissed her on the lips. I drew
back and smiled at her. "Suppose I say I don't believe you?" I
said again.

Brenda looked at me with fiery eyes. Her breath came softly but
quickly, and she seemed to be calculating in her mind. "You come
in the house and I'll show you," she said. She turned to look at
the front door. "Let me go in first to see if Mama's in the
house. If I don't come out, she's in there, never mind and run
along. If I come out, you come in and follow me."

I almost prayed on the spot. This had to be the will of God, or
at least my lucky day. Either that or Mama was going to stick a
knife in my ribs the minute I walked in. . .

Brenda went inside, and I heard her call out for her mama. A
minute later, she came to the front door and gave me a wave to
come in. I did.

The front room had a couple old couches That was where Mary sold
her beer and produce. There was a cold-water kitchen right off
the front room, and they was even a indoor bathroom. They was two
bedrooms. Brenda went into the back one and motioned me in. Then
she shut the door.

She smiled like she'd got away with something. Her voice was
breathy.

"You know, Mr. Haywood, I been noticing you," she said. "You look
like a big strong healthy fellow. But you need some cleanin up."

"Aw, you know I been workin," I says, looking at a day's worth of
dust and sweat and smudge. "I don't smell, do I?"

She took a short breath through her nose. "Mmmmm," she says.

I says, "Well, what you going to show me, <I>Miss</I> Brenda?" I
reached out my hands to her shoulders, then stopped myself from
putting my dirty hands on her clean white shirt.

Quietly, she reached up and unbuckled the straps of her
overhauls. She let them drop, then shook her feet out of the
trousers. I noticed she had moccasins or something on her small
feet. So she stood there in front of me in a man's short-sleeve
dress shirt. Too big for her, and it hung down most to her knees.
Either a cast-off, or something she'd found at the depot.

I decided to do the same. I sat down on her bed (I'm guessing it
was hers) and pulled my boots off. Then I stood up and unbuckled
the snaps on my overhauls. The bib fell to my waist. Well,
whatever. I went ahead and pushed them down and kicked them off.
So there I was naked in from of Miss Brenda Connor.

She looked, and did not look. She began carefully to open the
buttons of her shirt, and I watched as she slowly showed herself.
She turned her back to me, took off the shirt, and hung it on a
glass doorknob. The she turned back around.

Like I say, she was still a girl. Yes, she had titties, or the
beginnings of titties with nipples on em that stuck out. She had
the lightest of fur down between her legs, and my peter began to
take note.

We both just stood there staring at each other, like fools. All
the sudden, I was not sure whether I ought to do more, although
my peter was giving me away.

Finally, she moved to me and put her hands on my chest. "You got
a fine, strong physique, Mr. Keefe," she says. "I guess hard work
is good for a young man. A old man, it just cripples em."

Well, I put my own hands on <I>her</I> chest and felt her
titties. They was hardly a handful, but I treated em like they
was. I kinda rubbed around em and played with the nipples with my
fingers, and she says, "That feels good." So I took her in my
arms like I would a wife and held her. She was maybe five foot
tall and light as a breeze.

I smoothed her hair and noticed that she had her hair pulled up
with a little strip of some kind of lace. My fingers was clumsy,
but I loosened it and pulled it free, letting her hair fall. Then
I leaned down and kissed her again. And I didn't stop there. I
sat on the edge of the bed and kissed her titties and sucked on
her nipples, and she began to breathe fast again. "Oh my, Mr.
Haywood," she says out loud.

Then come the big surprise. She reached down with her hand and
took hold of my, well, my <I>dick.</I> And she started rubbing it
up and down. Then she knelt down and kept rubbing it up and down.
Well by God that did it. I thought sure I was going to swell up
and shoot right there, so I put my hand on her arm to stop her.
She stopped.

"Well Mr. Haywood, you seen enough for <I>proof?</I> I shown you
now I know what to do with a man. Now it's time for you to run
on. Mama could come in any moment."

Well, in the back of my mind all the sudden a long train ride to
Cincinnati didn't seem like such a bad idea, but no. No, wouldn't
do that.

And I says, "No, you aint absolutely proved nothin. So you rubbed
on my stick. Mercy me, you could have seen your brothers doing
that. Haven't you?"

"Maybe," she said crossly. "So what?"

"Only one way to know for sure," I says.

Brenda didn't say another word. She moved closer to me, straddled
my lap, and lowered herself toward my stick, which by now was big
and hard. She fit it into her a little at a time, in a way I
didn't know a little girl could do. I kept expecting her to cry
out or stop, or to feel the virgin maiden. No. She slid down,
down, down the pole and my dick went up, up, up inside her until
it was in most all the way.

Well, that proved it. So somebody else <I>had</I> been there
first, and I aimed to be not far behind. I took her tight in my
arms and rolled us so that I was on top of her, still inside her,
still inside the cunt of Miss Brenda Connor, my barmaid's little
girl. She looked up at me, her eyes questioning, a look both
inviting and defiant.

And not exactly sure of right and wrong. She was 12, when what
you knew to be right and wrong as a child was beginning to blur.
She was headstrong, but still in some ways a baby.

I kissed her lips again, longer this time, and touched tongues
with her, and began to move inside her. My gosh, it felt so good.
I mean, I done this with other women, but I honestly liked
Brenda, and that made a difference.  I moved slowly in and out,
and I saw her eyes close. "Is this good?" I ast her, and she
nodded and said "Mmmmmm"

I picked up speed, and every now and then she'd give a little
cry, and i could see she was trying not to make no noise in case
her mama was in the house. Didn't much matter. The old bed
springs was starting to squeak in rhythm. I noticed that, so I
picked her up and laid her down on the floor, then put my dick
all the way back in. She cried out, and I put one hand over her
mouth to quieten her.

Well, I was 20, and I didn't have as much resistance, and it felt
so good. So I let go and pounded her 15 or 20 more times and went
off like a rocket. Oh, <I>man.</I> Oh good God. I shot juice up
inside her like it would never stop. I faded down on top of her,
my dick still inside her.

After about a minute of hard breathing by us both, I heard her
giggle. "You got me all dirty," she says. "You done got soot all
over me.

"All right, Mr. Haywood. Do you believe me <I>now?</I>

"I believe you honey," I says. "I believe you. Are you all right?
I didn't aim to hurt you."

"Oh you didn't," she answered. "You didn't. It felt good. Your
thing inside me felt real good."

I finally stood up, then took her by the hands and pulled her to
her feet. We held each other and kissed. "You still think I'm a
li'l ol girl?" she says.

"Hmmm," I says. "Yes and no."

She quietly put her hand on my dick, which was all slick from the
juices. She pulled at it. "Mr. Haywood," she says. "I am a little
sore, but can we do it again?"

I thought about it. "Not here," I says. "We was lucky your mama
didn't come in on us. But yes, I want to. I really want to. I
like you, little girl. Scuse my language, but I like fuckin you
too."

She too was thinking. Her house backed up to a hillside, which
rose up to Rattlesnake Knob. She reached in a chest and pulled
out an old wool blanket, then picked up her overhauls off the
floor. She still had on her moccasins. I hadn't even noticed.
"Get your suit and let's go," she says. "We got to run for it."

I grabbed my overhauls and boots and followed her out, out the
back door. We was both still naked (except for her moccasins), so
we dashed fast across the back clearing and through the garden
and past the well to the tree line. I stopped there and pulled on
my boots, and we walked up the hill a short way. We come to a
little break in the pines.

"I used to come here and play," she told me. "Sometimes I come
here now just to get away from them boys and from Mama. Sometimes
I come out here and sleep when it's too hot in the house. The
chiggers aint really too bad."

I sat down on the pine straw and pulled my boots off. She rolled
out the tattered blanket. It was like a army blanket, dark green.
She sat down next to me on the blanket.

All right, so she knew what fucking was. But she was a little
fumbly about trying to be a full-grown woman. She put her arms
around me and kissed me like a little girl would kiss her papa. I
kissed her back, hard and sure. I let my hand fall to the place
between her legs, to her cunt, and I rubbed on it slowly, and she
said, "That feels good -- there." She drew her breath in a little
gasp. "There."

"There?" I said.

"Oh my, <I>yes,"</I> she said. So I kept rubbing the spot she
mentioned and she began to moan low and sweet, out loud. She
moved her little hand to my dick, which by now was swelled back
up, and again rubbed it up and down. I kept rubbing her and
kissing her mouth. I could feel with my hand the juice dripping
out of her cunt from our dash across the yard.

"All right, girl," I says to her. She laid back and spread her
knees apart. I mounted up and pushed my dick back inside her, all
the way in at once, and she cried out loud. "Ohhh, you doing it
to me, Mr. Haywood," she said.

I slid my dick back and drove it home and began to pound it into
her. It was like I was nailin her to the ground, and she gave out
a cry each time. I kissed her lips, grinding my mouth into hers,
and she kissed me back just as hard, and she commenced to bucking
and twisting, and I kept slamming my dick into her wet hot hole,
and this time it seemed like this went on for a long time, and
she cried and her body stiffened up and she gave out a long
groan, and I groaned an rutted and practically told her I loved
her and all that.

She kept crying out, "Don't stop. Don't you <I>ever</I> stop."

Took me a lot longer this time, but then I felt it tightening up
in my thighs and butt and balls, and then I went off and give her
another long jolt of juice way deep in her cunt, and we were both
out of breath and sweating and most wore out. I laid down flat on
her and kissed her neck and let my head rest between her budding
titties and tried to catch my breath. I could hear her heart
beat, very fast. She laid completely still.

I could barely speak, and I felt almost drunk. "Let's . . .
again," I says, all winded.

"Oh Mr. Haywood," she says.

"Mr. Haywood, you done broke me. I been broke before, once. But
you broke me for certain."

Well, that brushed up my manhood to hear that, even from a
12-years-old girl, and my head swelled up with pride, and now I
wanted more. She just laid there, staring at the treetops.

"So who was it?" I ast. "Who was it broke you the first time?"

She raised up on her elbows and gave me a look, a very hard look,
like a little girl who'd been slapped for something she hadn't
done. "You don't ever ask me again," Brenda says. "You're never
gonna know."

Her words were sharp and icy, and I realized I'd stepped in it
again. I pulled her to me and held her, and she accepted my hug,
but not as peaceful as before.

"You coming in tonight?" she says. "For a beer?"

"I spect I will," I says.

"Well then, Mr. Haywood, I will see you then. She pulled on her
overhauls, and she <I>still</I> had on those moccasins. She
flipped the straps up over her shoulders from behind and buckled
them to the bib. She didn't look complete without the white
shirt.

Goes without saying that I was disappointed. I could of took her
like this way on into the night, I felt like. But I put on my
suit and my boots. We walked back down into the evening sunlight
and toward the house. I wanted to take her hand, but she wouldn't
let me, and sure enough there at the kitchen window looking
through the screen was Mama. Brenda went on in the house, and I
headed down the passageway to the street, and I heard them
hollering.

"What were you doing with that man," Mama yelled, and Brenda
whined, "I wasn't doing nothin,." and the noise got louder and I
heard some slapping and screaming, so I beat it out of there and
did not go back that night. I walked the two miles home and gave
Pop $12 and said, "I think I'll keep a extra dollar this week if
you don't mind. I got to pay back a fellow I borrowed from." Pop
grunted and stuck the money in his wallet.

Mama had some pork chops and potatoes left over from dinner. I
was real hungry, so I sat down and ate. I ate <I>all</I> of it. I
says, "Thanks, Mama." She says, "You come in late, Joe, so we
went on and eat without ye. Where you been?" I says, "Oh, up at
Mary's having a beer. Trying to find a better-payin job." She let
it go at that.

Well, time passed, and me and Brenda would meet up whenever we
could get away with it, and it got better and better. One
Saturday in August, I took $3, spent 50 cents for a bucket of
beer, rented a room for a day and a night for $2, and me and
Brenda done it seven times. We just could not stop, not even to
eat. Ever time we thought we had enough, one or the other of us
would charge up the other and away we go again. You best believe
we was wore out after that. She looked at me one time and says,
"Mr. Haywood, I believe you got too much starch." I thought that
was funny.

Then, long about October, she came to the depot right at quittin.
I met her all happy to see her, but she looked real serious.

"Mr. Keefe, you got to keep a secret, right? At least until I
know how to explain it. You swear?" I says, "All right, I swear."

She fell silent for a long time. Then, "My monthly didn't come --
again," she says, all downcast. "That's two months in a row. I
think I'm pregnant."

I bout fell down on the floor. I held her gently by the shoulders
and ast her the stupidest question of them all. "Are you sure?"

She kept her eyes on the concrete floor of the dock. "Yes, I'm
sure. I'm gonna go see Dr. Schmidt next week. But I know it."

She began to cry. I held her, and her body shook. "I'm too young
to be a mama," she sobbed. She'd turned 13 in September, and her
mama had bought her a cake with pink icing.  I give her a new
white shirt I bought for a dollar; her other one was getting
kinda thin.

Now I felt terrible.

"Did you tell your mama?" I ast. "No," she says. "You're the only
one I told it to. I'm scared, Mr. Haywood, Mr. Joe Haywood."

I walked her home and kissed her by the porch, as I didn't want
her mama to see me. I told her I needed to ponder on this, but
I'd talk to her tomorrow. There was a chill in the air as I
walked the two miles home.

And a chill again, a bright blue chill, when I walked back to
town the next day for work. This job was getting real old, but at
least it was steady. Well, bout 5 o'clock, I seen Brenda again,
waiting for me on the dock to get done work. I went to her as
soon as I rolled the last barrel into the depot. I put my dirty
arm around her shoulders, and we started to walk, maybe to her
house, maybe to somewhere else that I had no idea.

My good sense told me to step up and be a man for certain. A Ford
passed, chattering and raising dust. We kept walking.

"Brenda," I began, mindful of always saying the wrong thing.
"There ain't been nobody else, has there?" She started to speak,
but I shushed her. "N'other words, if you're carryin a baby, it's
mine, right? No doubt about it?"

She didn't pause or skip. She looked right at me and said,
"There's been nobody else," she said, firm. "I feel like this
came about from the first time we done it. I aint been with no
one else. I love you, Mr. Haywood. Mr. Joe Haywood."

She allowed herself a slight chuckle. "Besides," she says, "you
aint left me no time for anybody else. Now that's just a joke,
Mr. Haywood. Please tell me you know that's a joke."

I looked at Brenda. She was growing up, and her curves was
a-filling out, and she was looking more like a woman, this in
just the three or four months I'd knowed her. But still and yet,
she was just 13, and what she was up against was a lot for a
little girl barely growed. She knew, and I knew, this was the
rest of her life beginning.

Well, I done what I believed to be the right thing. We got
married. I paid for a license, got tested, and got a justice to
make it official. We was now Mr. and Mrs. Joe Haywood. I figured
then I should take her to meet Mama and Pop, but I couldn't
hardly make her walk all that way. So I talked to Mr. Howard who
ran the hardware and had a Ford, and I told him I'd pay his
gasoline if he'd give us a lift to the farm. And back. I told him
about my new bride, and he told me to go ahead and take the car
but have it back by 8 o'clock. I bout fell over thanking him.

We went out, and he showed me how to set the spark and throttle.
Then he cranked it and it leaped up with a roar. He throttled it
down, then reset the spark. "That pedal there is the clutch," he
said pointing. "You push it down for low speed, then let it out
for high speed. That one there's the brake. The other one is
reverse. You oughtn't need that one much.

Well, I worked at it a bit and got the car to the street. I
thanked Mr. Howard again and lurched off to pick up Brenda. I
gradually got the hang of working the car, and after a time it
seemed quite easy to do. Mama and Pop seemed happy to meet her,
and she helped Mama some in the kitchen, making bacon sandwiches.
Pop was all right, but he kept looking at me sideways. He took me
aside once and said, "Joey, she's a good piece younger than your
mama was." I guess he was meaning she could turn out as some kind
of whore, but I hushed him.

Pop had a bucket of beer, and he offered every body a glass to
celebrate. I was the only one who took any. Mama didn't drink,
and Brenda said she never could get a taste for beer.

Long story shot, I shot my last pay on train tickets to Beckley,
a big town and out of the coal pits, away from the mine wars and
the gunshots and the feuds. I figured there must be something
better to do there. Something better for my little girl and me .
. .

<I>Joe and Brenda Haywood were married in October 1924. Joe found
a job selling cars at the Hudson agency in Beckley, and when the
management learned he was fairly handy with tools, they moved him
into the garage. From there, he learned the machinist trade and
eventually set up his own machine shop. Brenda gave birth to a
girl, Mary Lee, in March 1925. She finally confessed to Joe that
her papa had taken her maiden, when she was 11, and more than
once. Her papa had disappeared not too long after, and nobody
really believed the story about the mine accident.</I>