Chapter One
“Move!”
Hannah opened her eyes to find her older sister, Lucy, climbing into the back seat of Hollis Rumsford’s used, black, 1929 Model A Ford, four-door sedan. Clutching her knapsack tightly to her chest, Hannah slid across the seat. Since she could no longer avoid sight of her childhood home by closing her eyes, Hannah turned her gaze to the side window.
She stared between trees down the hill at Placerville, the only home she ever knew. The small mining town lay at an important crossroads. Only ten miles south of Sutter’s Mill where the gold rush began, it was home to the first California state highway. The road ensured Placerville was unlikely to become a ghost town even in the current depression. It was the main route over the Sierras through South Lake Tahoe and all points east. Hannah deeply inhaled crisp, pine-scented air as if it were her last breath.
“Why’d you come out here so fast?” demanded Lucy. “It’s freezing.”
“I’m ready to leave, that’s all.” Hannah stole a glance at her sister, who was furiously rubbing her hands together in an effort to stay warm. Lucy was the firstborn child, a worldly girl disinterested in the academia that fascinated Hannah. With her raven hair and gray eyes, Lucy always garnered the attention due a true beauty. “You didn’t come out here to sit with me. Why don’t you go back inside?” Hannah asked.
“Aren’t we cheeky this morning. What’s got into you, Miss Mousey?”
Hannah cringed at Lucy’s criticism of her personality. Even Father called Hannah his little mouse but she considered that a term of endearment. In truth, Hannah often felt lost in their family—not pretty like Lucy, not fun-loving like her brothers, not as needy as the two youngest Granvilles.
Hannah caught her reflection in the window. Big green eyes, probably her best feature, pooled with tears. Her curly, light brown hair escaped beneath a green knit beret. She cut her hair at shoulder length, secured the top with bobby pins and allowed the bottom to curl naturally. Unruly hair caused countless hours of distress until current hairstyles became popular.
“You aren’t going to cry, are you?” Lucy asked. “You’re 18. Don’t act like a baby!”
Hannah heaved a sigh, wondering how she failed to hide her feelings this time. Mustering her composure, Hannah turned to face Lucy and evenly replied, “Go back in the house if you’re cold.”
“No, I’m not going to do that. I’ll sit here and freeze with you. It’s better than watching Rumsfords issue dramatic farewells. Those people make me sick. I can’t wait to get out of this Podunk town. I’d tell you this was all your fault, and it is; but I’ve been trying to find a way to leave. Now, I’m going. So, thank you, Miss Mousey.”
Believing her sister’s behavior was a primary reason they were being shipped out of town, Hannah asked, “How is this my fault?”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “You’re the only one who could have stopped Father and you didn’t do a damn thing about it. We’re all in this mess because of you.”
It was true, Hannah was the last person to see him alive. Not a day went by that Hannah failed to condemn herself, wondering if she missed some clue of his intentions. Father did not seem tense or upset.
She would always remember how the sunlight from the window backlit his head, making the silver in his hair gleam. His warm brown eyes were no less merry; his smile no less earnest.
It was the stock market crash of 1929 that caused Father’s suicide. Knowing his in-laws refused further funding, he made careful investments only to have the market crash days later. Unable to face his wife’s wrath, Father pulled a gun from the drawer and fired a bullet under his chin as he sat at his desk. Headlines from the newspaper sprawled across the desktop served as the final punctuation of Aloysius Granville’s life.
This unfortunate turn of events devastated the Granville family. Mother, overcome with problems, monetary and otherwise, was bustled off to a wealthy aunt’s house in Chicago after the funeral. Younger Granville children were placed with various relatives across the country. Having nowhere to go, Lucy and Hannah ended up at the Rumsfords, their next-door neighbors. It seemed a lifetime since Hannah had her own home and family. At this moment, she wanted nothing more than to avoid Lucy’s scrutiny.
“I imagined you’d sit in front with your suitors,” Hannah suggested in an attempt to coerce her sister from the back seat.
“That’s what I’d prefer. Aunt Bitsy is getting her marching orders so I don’t expect to enjoy our journey.”
Hannah could not imagine what Bitsy might do to rein in her sister’s errant behavior. Lucy played the Rumsford brothers against each other much like a cat tormented a mouse. The two smitten boys did not seem to care. Bitsy, though only slightly older than her nephews, was afforded the respect due an aunt. Lucy held no such respect.
“Where are they?” Lucy was clearly short on patience.
“How can you be in a hurry to leave? Aren’t you concerned about what will become of us? At least we had a place to live here.”
“Working in a boarding house is not my idea of living. I know you were happy but I was always more ambitious than you.”
“That’s funny. I can’t remember you ever putting in a day’s work. I wouldn’t call that ambition,” noted Hannah.
“Were you planning on working your way to fame and fortune living in the Rumsford attic? All you’d ever get is room and board and time to read your precious books. I was not cut out for menial labor.”
“So, you left the work to me while you flirted your way through every man in Placerville.”
“What’s gotten into you today?”
As was her custom, Hannah backed down. “Nothing,” she replied. As time went on, Hannah’s initial melancholy over Father’s death evaporated into a quiet anger. Her family was gone, never to be reunited. Her dreams of higher education dissolved. Her undeniable crush on Hollis Rumsford, who only had eyes for Lucy, served to intensify the hostility Hannah harbored for her elder sibling.
“Did you remember to thank Mrs. Rumsford before you left?” asked Hannah, knowing the next-door neighbors were not the cream of society Mother and Lucy sought to cultivate.
“Thank her for what? Kicking me out?”
“For giving you a home. What would we have done without them?”
“Something else. Who cares? I’m about to get my chance if those people would say goodbye and get on with it.”
“We owe a debt to the Rumsfords,” assured Hannah.
“Piddle. Mrs. Rumsford got plenty for her lousy attic space—help with housekeeping, cooking and laundry. You’ll never learn, Hannah. You’ll end up living in someone else’s attic, mark my words. The Rumsfords are not the type of people we need to be concerned with.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Mr. Rumsford sells farm equipment. He’s gone more than he’s home. When all but Hollis and Dock moved on, Mrs. Rumsford turned that lovely home into a boarding house, of all things. You’d never see Mother do something like that. They’re very common people.”
“That didn’t stop you from chasing after Hollis and Dock.”
“I never chased after them. I can’t help it if they find me charming.”
“Not charming enough to marry you. I seem to recall there were no proposals when the bank foreclosed on our house. Wasn’t that your plan all along—marry some innocent rube who could support you in the manner you imagine you deserve?”
“You’re wrong. There were plenty of proposals.”
“Then how did you end up in the Rumsford’s attic with me?”
Lucy looked on her sister as an ignorant and innocent girl, basically a thorn in her side and too inexperienced to be taken seriously. “A girl has to use discretion when selecting a husband. There are financial aspects to marriage I doubt you understand. I’m not going to wind up like mother—with a houseful of children, begging money from relatives.”
“Especially since you haven’t any relatives to beg from,” sniped Hannah. “Maybe you’re too headstrong and opinionated to ever catch a husband.” Hannah found her sister’s ideas about men both fascinating and appalling. Lucy took up with any man who could pay her way—no small feat in these desperate times.
“You’re simply jealous because I’m pretty and you’re not.” Certain she’d struck a nerve, Lucy displayed a smug smile.
The discussion came to an abrupt conclusion as Aunt Bitsy, playing chaperone, climbed into the back seat. The two Rumsford brothers settled in front.
Hannah was on her way to an uncertain future. Suddenly desperate to fix the picture of her childhood home in her memory, she turned in her seat to watch the blue and yellow Victorian house fade into the distance and disappear from sight.
Imagining this could be the adventure of a lifetime, Hannah tried to put a good face on her journey. But when the familiar Sierras gave way to flat and barren terrain, a severe case of homesickness overwhelmed her.
* * *
As Hollis’ Model A bumped along the highway, Hannah considered the events that resulted in her current exodus from Placerville.
After dinner last week, Mrs. Rumsford asked to meet Hannah at the kitchen table. They often discussed household projects over a cup of tea. But when she entered, Hannah was amazed to find the Rumsford brothers and Aunt Bitsy already seated around the large table. Hannah quietly took a chair. Before she could inquire about the nature of the meeting, Lucy entered and took her own seat.
Hannah noted the Rumsford brothers’ expressions. They might be surprised to be invited to this impromptu meeting but they were no less appreciative of Lucy’s presence. Hannah imagined the boys might actually drool, they appeared so idiotic in their admiration.
Her heart gave a flutter as she observed the youthful Mr. Rumsford, the ideal of all Hannah’s girlish dreams. He was tall, fit from working in the mines, with dark hair and friendly brown eyes. No movie star held the appeal of the flesh-and-blood, 22-year-old Hollis Rumsford seated across the table.
Although Dock was as tall as his older brother, having the same dark hair and brown eyes, his features didn’t align in a pleasing manner. Perhaps his nose was too hawkish, his brows too thick or his chin too weak. Hannah knew Dock—they attended school together. He was the obnoxious older boy who pulled the girls’ braids, never failing to harass them.
It was Dock who broke the silence.
“So, Lucy, how about you and me snuggle up tonight? It’s plenty cold. Let me sweet-talk you into a little smooch.”
“We’ll have none of that,” commented a serious Mrs. Rumsford, having overheard Dock’s comment as she entered the kitchen. “I’ll box your ears, Dock Rumsford, if I hear so much as another word out of you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Dock’s proper response was laced with a lascivious grin in Lucy’s direction. Lucy returned Dock’s comment with her practiced, coy smile.
Mrs. Rumsford’s sense of humor was what kept Hannah going through the dark days of the past two years but this novel meeting held no trace of comedy.
“I called you here to address several family issues that also concern Lucy and Hannah,” began Mrs. Rumsford.
“We’re sorry, Ma. We won’t fight at dinner again,” offered a repentant Hollis.
“You most certainly will not. Of all the harebrained things you could do in front of our boarders.”
The boys came to physical blows at the dinner table that night, jealous competitors for Lucy’s favor. Although the bowl of mashed potatoes was right in front of Lucy’s plate, she smiled demurely at the brothers and asked if they might pass the dish.
Too eagerly, Hollis and Dock reached for the bowl, upending it. Dock grabbed Hollis by the shirt collar. Hollis slapped Dock’s shoulder to gain release. Soon, the boys fell backward in their chairs, each intent to clobber the other as they rolled about the dining room floor. Naturally, every last resident of the boarding house was in attendance.
Interrupting Hannah’s reverie, Mrs. Rumsford continued, “I believe I have a solution that will keep you out of trouble, at least in Placerville. Aunt Bitsy is moving to Santa Barbara for her wedding next month. I’m tired of listening to her fret about the train ride. It’s a safe way to travel, Bitsy. I don’t understand why it bothers you so.
“I’m weary of badgering you boys to get another job. After all, your grandfather died from black lung disease. I want you out of the mines.” Mrs. Rumsford removed a teabag from her cup.
“Last, but not least, the large Cropton family is about to be turned out of their home by the bank, Mr. Cropton having lost his job. Mrs. Cropton is my dearest friend on earth. I am dedicated to helping that family any way I can.
“I’ve come to realize this complex series of events provides the answer to my prayers.” Mrs. Rumsford paused for dramatic affect. Even Lucy seemed to be paying attention.
“I am putting my problems in a car and sending them to the coast. It’s time my sons left the nest. You boys will deliver your Aunt Bitsy to her in-laws by way of Hollis’ automobile while easing my own anxiety. There are job opportunities in Santa Barbara. You can find work above ground. If you choose to fight at a dinner table, it will no longer be mine. Your room will be let out for additional income. After all, your father and I are not getting any younger. We need to make the most of the opportunity our large home provides.
“Aunt Bitsy’s room has been promised to a gentleman currently staying at a hotel on Main Street. Lodging, albeit cramped, for the Croptons and their 12 children will be found in our attic.
“A change of venue will open a whole new field of admirers for you, Lucy. I never believed you had any real interest in either of my sons. I’m certain they provided you with a distraction but I imagine you’ll find new beaus in Santa Barbara.”
Hannah almost laughed at the boys’ incredulous expressions, stupefied at their mother’s accurate deductions. Lucy remained silent; her reaction was hard to read but Hannah knew she would jump at any chance to leave Placerville.
Mrs. Rumsford reached over to pat Hannah’s hand and continued, “Of course, that also means Hannah must go. Don’t look so broken-hearted, dear. I believe this is best. There is more to life than working in a boarding house without a future. Life is waiting for you, Hannah: friends and adventures. A fresh start is exactly what you need. I will miss you terribly. You’ve been such a help. I can only hope Mrs. Cropton will be half the worker you have been.” Hannah was singled out for her praiseworthy efforts, a deliberate slight to Lucy’s meager contributions. But Lucy only thought her sister stupid and easily manipulated.
There were two people who made living in the Rumsford home bearable for Hannah. Proximity to Hollis Rumsford, her ideal man, served to fuel Hannah’s imagination. In her daydreams, Hollis pursued her relentlessly, much as he pursued Lucy in reality. Something as mundane as pinning his shirt to the clothesline set her pulse racing.
Mrs. Rumsford took Hannah under her wing from the day she moved in. She gently guided Hannah through her chores and was always appreciative of her efforts. But it was Mrs. Rumsford’s oft-repeated and humorous tales of family members, historic and present-day, that brought delight to Hannah’s day.
She suddenly recalled the first story, which seemed appropriate to current circumstances. Hannah stood at the kitchen sink, washing lunch dishes, fighting back tears, when Mrs. Rumsford walked beside her and took up a tea towel.
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll dry the dishes. Lucy isn’t feeling well.” It would soon become obvious, Lucy was seldom well enough to perform chores. Thinking back, Hannah believed Mrs. Rumsford always knew Lucy would fail to benefit the household.
“Oh, nonsense. Once these are done, you can settle in. I won’t need you until around 4. I heard you like to read.”
“Yes, that’s my favorite pastime.”
“You can help yourself to any books in our library. We keep those for boarders. Books come and go, so if there’s something you like, best grab it when you see it.
“My brother, Bart, was a bookworm. That boy always had his nose in a book. One day, he was walking in the woods reading, strode clean into the New Weber Ditch and hit his head. Thank goodness, he was near the road. A teamster on his way to Folsom saw him, pulled him out before he could manage to drown and took Bart along. The boy couldn’t remember his name or where he lived.
“By nightfall, Mom was in a panic. Nobody knew Bart in Folsom, but the child found a book to read in the sheriff’s office and was happy as a clam. They gave him food and he slept on an empty cot. They figured someone would make a claim to him eventually.
“It was three weeks before a neighbor told Mom they saw a notice in the Folsom Telegraph about a boy living in the sheriff’s office. Mom bustled right over there and flew through the sheriff’s door to find Bart sitting on a stool reading.
“’Bartholomew?’ she says, about ready to faint. She was certain sure the boy was dead. ‘Hi, Mom,’ says Bart, as if he left that morning. His memory came back just like that.” Mrs. Rumsford snapped her fingers. “Mom was so relieved she didn’t even whoop him.
“Funny thing is, Bart had an affinity for Folsom after that. He never strayed from home before, but every time he turned up missing, that’s where we found him. Mom got sick of hauling him back, so when he disappeared at 18, she determined not to fetch him again.
“Dad got fed up after nearly a year of listening to her complain so he went to Folsom only to find Bart married with a baby! Dad said he guessed Bart finally found something to do besides read! I guess when a body finds their place in life, that’s where they need to be, no matter how they get there.”
Hannah hoped she was on the way to find her own place in life.