[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>