Eastern Kentucky 1936

"It's time we take the next step Katniss. Will you marry me?"

Why is Gale asking me to marry him now, when he's leaving to work for Senator Undersee in the state capital in Frankfort, while I start a librarian job here in Dandelion?

He pulls a tiny box from his jacket pocket and opens it. Inside is a gold band set with a dark stone.

"But your new…"

He doesn't let me finish. Instead he puts a finger to my lips and answers my question before I can even express it. "We don't have to get married right away. I just think it would be better if we were engaged before I left."

I eye him curiously. "Why?"

We've been friends ever since we were children when his father worked for my father and we'd all go deer hunting together every fall, but there's never been anything romantic between us.

"Well, it'll make your mother happy to know that you've landed a young lawyer who's going places. And, you know, my mother wants me to settle down, too."

"I think your mother has bigger concerns than your marital status right now. She's probably focused on getting the kids settled in the Capitol." Last year his widowed mother re-married, and the family, minus Gale had re-located to Washington, D.C., for her new husband's fancy job.

"But you're right about my mother."

In her eyes, I am the underachieving daughter – still unwed at age twenty-five and now lowering myself even further by accepting a job with the Works Progress Administration to deliver library books to the people who live in the hills and valleys that surround Dandelion.

"You're taking work away from some poor woman who needs the money," my mother says, all the while in complete denial about the financial crisis the Everdeens face.

Perhaps my mother refuses to see the truth because we were once wealthy. When my father died from heart problems fourteen years ago, he was part owner of one of the largest coal mines in Kentucky.

My mother, sister Primmie, and I lived live comfortably on the proceeds from that mine, until the coal industry faltered in 1927, resulting in my mother selling my father's share in the mine for pennies.

We would have had to sell our house too, but my grandparents conveniently died, resulting in my mother splitting a substantial inheritance with her younger brother Haymitch.

That influx of cash enabled us to continue to live well through the stock market crash a couple of years later, and into the subsequent years when everyone else around us had the foresight to make cutbacks.

My mother, however, continued spending without any thought to the future.

Perhaps I'm a hypocrite to complain since Primmie and I also benefited from her spendthrift ways - I attended teacher's college – a waste of time and money, and my sister graduated from nursing school – a shrewd move on her part since she met a doctor there and married him.

But the money is gone now. With my sister living in Lexington with her husband, it falls upon me to support Mama. At least we own the house outright, I remind myself.

Gale touches my arm, jolting me from my gloomy thoughts. "Anyway, Katniss you know what you are to me."

Actually, I don't know what I am to Gale because he's never told me. But before I can ask, he leans in and presses his closed lips to mine. It's our first kiss and it's as romantic as dirt.

He pulls back. "I wasn't going to leave Dandelion without giving you a ring. You'd be engaged to someone else before I even got to Frankfort."

I smirk and slap his shoulder playfully. "That's ridiculous and you know it." There's no one else. I've never had much interest in romance.

"Say yes, then," he interrupts. "You haven't given me an answer."

"All right. Yes, I'll marry you Gale Hawthorne. Now let me take a look at that ring."

He slides it onto the fourth finger of my left hand; I stretch out my hand to admire it.

"It's onyx stone." He leans in and plants a second kiss on my lips. No improvement. But then this isn't a love match by any means. But we're friends – long-time friends - and Gale, well, he is comfortable to be around.

It should work.

He rises from the sofa. "I've got to go. I'll come to say good-bye before I leave town."

"Oh, all right."

I follow him outside, standing on the porch to watch him walk away. Snow falls and some larger flakes stick to his dark hair and dark coat.

I go inside and study the ring on my finger.

Mrs. Gale Hawthorne. Won't Mama be happy?

When I show her the ring, she is pleased. Ecstatic even.

"Good. Now you can quit that job. Let some other woman ride a horse and traipse off into the countryside to pass out books."

"We need the money Mama."

"Gale Hawthorne is doing all right. That boy is going places. He'll provide for you. And I'll find a way to manage somehow."

"We're not getting married right away."

"He hasn't set a date? She shakes her head disapprovingly. "You need to lock him down right now or some young lady in Frankfort will steal him from you. A handsome, educated, young man like Gale living alone in the state capital, attending a lot of parties…" her voice drifts off. "Mark my words, you're going to lose him if you don't set a date."

A shiver goes down my back at her words. Could she be right? I've heard a lot of girls whisper about Gale over the years, mentioning his good looks and ambition. But I remind myself that Gale and I have known each other, well, forever. It's like we're family already – people even say that we resemble each other with our dark hair and grey eyes. No other woman could come between us.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Gale leaves for Frankfort a few days later. I don't push him to set a wedding date, although my mother hints at it to him saying she needs to know for planning purposes. But Gale tells her he wants a simple ceremony in our front room with only close family. I give him a grateful smile. The Everdeens can't afford another extravaganza like the one my mother held for my sister.

The first day of my new job is the day after Gale leaves. The position requires me to provide my own horse. Long ago, we had horses and I went riding regularly. But not anymore. Fortunately I'm able to rent one from our neighbor, Thom Davis.

It's dawn when I arrive at his barn to pick up Mockingjay. I ride the gentle mare a few miles over the icy ground to the central library where I am supposed to meet the program director and collect the books to distribute.

Bristol Adkins, looks to be about thirty. He's short, not much taller than me, and balding. He wasn't at my interview, but he gives me a friendly handshake before showing me the books and magazines he's selected for me to carry.

"Leave a book or two at each house, no more. Over time you'll get to know everyone's interests, so you can pick out things they'd like."

I point to the small pile he's made. "That doesn't seem like much. Don't I need more to bring more than that?"

"You forget that you're also taking back returns that you can distribute at the next house. You don't want to carry too much because of the weight."

He hands me a map, with lines marked on it. "You'll do today's circuit twice each month. No deliveries on Fridays. Instead come here for our library meeting. It helps if all the librarians can get together and share information about things on their route. After our meeting, we'll mend torn books. Some of the women even use the time to make their own books. "

My ears perk up. Make their own books? What does he mean?

But he doesn't say. "Better head out now."

I stuff the items he's given me into the saddlebag and take it outside. The weight of the loaded saddlebag is too heavy for me to throw over the horse, so I have to take everything out first, arrange the bag over Mockingjay's back, and then re-pack the bag.

But soon I am astride Mockingjay, ready to start. I study the map for a few minutes, stuffing it into the pocket of my father's old leather jacket, and blowing on my hands to warm them before I set off.

I may have forgotten my gloves, but I have dressed in comfortable, warm clothes - trousers and a button-down shirt over long underwear, and an old pair of boots over a couple pairs of wool socks. My mother was horrified at my appearance, but it would be silly to dress up when I'll spend most of my day on horseback.

The air is brisk and I am relaxed as I ride, hardly believing my luck to have gotten this job. I've worked very little since graduating teacher's college, only teaching for a single year, which I hated. Mostly I've sat around bored at home, running errands for my mother and doing charity work for the church.

Mockingjay steadily climbs the icy hillside until we reach a cabin. The door is propped open a crack. I pull on the reins and stop. Once I'm off the mare I call out.

"Hello, there. I'm here with some books for you."

A man about my own age steps outside the cabin. He has a shotgun in his hand, pointing it in my direction. I take a quick step back.

He looks me up and down. "Where's Clove?"

"She's having a baby, so she quit. I'm Katniss Everdeen, her replacement. I've got a book for you."

He lowers his gun, and leans it up against the side of his cabin. "Let me get my wife." He goes inside and a girl soon exits. She's tall, lean and the sweater she holds tightly around her midsection only emphasizes that she'll give birth soon.

"You the new book woman?" The girl can't be older than eighteen.

"Yes, ma'am."

She holds a magazine in her hands. True Romance.

"Do you got any more like this?"

I try to remember the titles of the books and magazines Mr. Adkins piled up for me. "Let me check."

Walking forward, I take the magazine from her hands and open up the saddlebag hanging over Mockingjay's side.

No, books or magazines that specialize in love stories. I pick out a copy of Good Housekeeping.

"You might like this one. I believe it has a story or two in it, although it's mostly housekeeping tips."

Well perhaps not the kind of tips that a teenage housewife living in a shanty without running water or electricity might need, but perhaps she's into daydreaming if she likes to read fanciful love stories.

She frowns, but she takes the magazine from me.

"I'll keep an eye out for another copy of True Romance. Maybe next time…"

"I like Love Story magazine too." She gives me a small smile and I wave good-bye as I set off.

The morning continues in much the same fashion. I meet a number of people trading in their previously-read materials for something new.

The copy of True Romance is given away to a woman a few stops later; she returns a copy of Shakespeare's play, Romeo and Juliet.

But interests vary widely, one housewife calls the romance magazine trashy when I offer one to her and asks for religious materials instead. Mr. Adkins has given me none. I promise to bring her something next time as she accepts my offer of Pilgrim's Progress.

The living conditions of the people I visit differ as well. While everyone is obviously poor – certainly much worse off than the Everdeens who own a large house with indoor plumbing and electricity- there are varying degrees of poverty.

While a few folks have given up completely and live in squalor, most show pride in their cabins, keeping them and their surrounding property well-tended. Some even have a chicken coop and one has an outbuilding in which a goat bleats loudly.

In the early afternoon, Mockingjay and I reach a level ground. I tie her to a tree and brush away a thin dusting of snow to sit on a long rock, overlooking a stream below as I eat the sandwich I packed for myself. I make a mental note to keep paper and a pencil with me so I can keep track of the reading interests of the folks I'm visiting.

My next stop is a small schoolhouse. The teacher is young. She can't be more than sixteen and likely has no training for the job. She hands me a copy of Robinson Crusoe and in return I give her a copy of Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm that she can read to the class.

Her twelve students eye me curiously. Most are dressed poorly and I wonder how well the children can concentrate with only the warmth of wood stove in the corner.

My last stop is in a heavily wooded area. Bits of snow cling to the tree branches, but the ground up to the house is free of it, likely protected by those branches. A dog, tied to a tree, barks furiously as I ride closer to the cabin. A fair-haired woman sweeps the porch clear of snow and sings off key.

Weep no more, my lady,

Oh! Weep no more today!

We sing one song for the old Kentucky Home

For the old Kentucky home far away.

She is so concentrated on her task that she startles when I appear before her.

"Whatcha want?" she says, taking a step back. Two young children rush out the half-open door and cling to her skirt.

"I'm the book lady. I've replaced Clove." Since everyone's been calling me the book lady, and not my official title of traveling librarian, I decide to go with that name.

"Ooh, ooh, ooh." Her face lights up. "Do you have The Rich Man's Pearl by H.A. McDonald?"

The title is unfamiliar to me. "I'll check." I dismount, and look through my bag.

"I don't," I call out to her.

Her face drops. "Oh, too bad. It's the best book I ever read. A rich man falls in love with a poor woman and they…."

It sounds like she, too, wants a romance. I search through the bag for something to suit her. It amazes me that so many woman request love stories. I don't think if I've ever read a book that only focused on love. I pull out the copy of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet that is still in my bag.

The woman leans her broom against the house and disappears from view– I assume she went to get the book she is going to trade out with me, but she doesn't return.

Loud voices sound from inside. She argues with a man, but I cannot make out the words.

Finally, she returns minus the children. "Why don't you come in? Peeta could use a visitor. Besides I could use your help."

Tying Mockingjay to a tree, I step onto the raised porch and enter the house.

I haven't been inside any of the other houses on the route this day; I am curious about the living conditions of the residents in the hills.

I enter a single room whose walls are completely covered with newspapers instead of painted plaster. Someone has taken paint, though, and drawn illustrations of animals on some of the lower sections of the newspaper about two feet from the floor. I am astounded at the detail of the artwork. It looks like something one would find in a children's picture book.

A table sits in the center. On one side of the room is a curtained off area. On the other side is a small kitchen, with a wood stove and shelves to hold dishes and a few canned items.

A double bed is pushed up against the wall, close to the stove. A man sits up in it. He wears a t-shirt. A blanket covers his lower body. He is handsome, fair-haired like the woman.

The way his piercing blue eyes scrutinize me, though, are unsettling. He's awfully brazen to stare at me so boldly in front of his wife and in the presence of his two young children who have climbed on the bed to join him.

"Peeta, this is the book lady." The enthusiasm in the woman's voice is apparent, but I suppose living in such isolation would make anybody eager to see a new face.

She turns to me. "What's your name?"

"Katniss Everdeen."

"I'm Delly Mellark. This is my brother-in-law Peeta."

Relief washes over me to learn that the man isn't her husband, but it is quickly followed by a nervous anxiety. My cheeks grow warm. It's as if he's has set me on fire with his eyes. I clutch Romeo and Juliet to my chest.

"Hello," I mutter as I remind my self that I have a fiancé. But Gale has never looked at me like this man.

Maybe I should have worn my engagement ring today to show that I am taken.

"I was wondering if you could help me for a moment?" Delly walks close to the bed. She lifts up the edge of the blanket that covers Peeta's lower body to reveal a pale, muscular calf. A bloodied rag is tied around it.

"I told you no Delly," Peeta growls.

My stomach churns and I advert my eyes from the wound to look at Delly. "What happened?"

"Peeta got shot last night and I need your help. Could you hold his leg steady while I dig the bullet out?"

My jaw drops at her request. Is she insane? "I can't do that."

"I need the doctor Delly," Peeta breaks in.

At the sound of his voice, I turn to look at him. "How did it happen?"

"I was shot by a revenuer."

I'm surprised he trusts me enough to tell me. Making white whiskey is illegal despite Prohibition having ended. Not that I'd go squealing to the authorities. Moonshining is a tradition in this area that goes back before the Revolutionary War. And in these times people do what they need to do to survive.

"Well, at least you got away." Delly's face screws up like she might cry.

She turns to me. "They caught my husband Rye a few months ago. He's still in jail."

I seek to escape. I don't need to be caught up into this family's drama. My family has enough of its own.

"Did you have a book to trade me for this?" I hold up the play to Delly.

"Oh yes, right here." She reaches under Peeta's bed and hands me a collection of poems by Robert Browning.

We trade books and I look to Peeta. "If you want, I can stop by the doctor when I get back to town and send him to see you."

"Please do. I'd be most grateful." He gives me a big smile, almost making me forget that he's a lawbreaker.

"All right."

Delly follows me outside the cabin. "Don't get the doc. It will cost too much, and he'll charge extra traveling here because of the cold. I can dig the bullet out myself."

"But what if the wound gets infected? He could lose his leg or die."

She looks at me like I'm crazy. "I'm not stupid because we don't live in town. I know how to treat infections."

I nod quickly and untie Mockingjay. The dog that was barking when I arrived fell asleep.

While riding home over the icy trail, I fret over whether to stop by the doctor's office or not. People who reside in the hills rarely call the doctor to treat them; rather they rely on old folk remedies. Granted some work well, but I worry that Peeta might lose his leg if he depends on his sister-in-law. And he did ask me to send for the doctor…

My mind made up, I steer Mockingjay in the direction of Main Street to visit Dr. Coriolanus Snow, the only doctor in Dandelion.

He lives above his office and I pound on the door and tell him about Peeta's injury leaving out the part about how it happened, and give him directions to the cabin.

He frowns. "I'll ride out early tomorrow and see what I can do. Hopefully it isn't infected already."

The thought makes me ill, but I tell myself it's not my concern. If Peeta broke the law, he deserves the consequences of his actions. I thank Dr. Snow and head for Thom's barn.

Author's Note: Frankfort is the capital of the state of Kentucky.

The Works Progress Administration was a United States government agency created in 1935 by President Franklin Roosevelt to provide jobs for millions of unemployed Americans during the Great Depression (1929-1939). WPA workers built public buildings and roads throughout the U.S. The agency also employed musicians, artists, writers, actors and directors in large arts, drama, media, and literacy projects. Eastern Kentucky's Pack Horse Library Project was just one of many innovative ways people were put to work to earn a salary by serving the public. The WPA was dissolved in 1943 because it was no longer needed, as wartime work in the military and factories kept the population employed.

My Old Kentucky Home, Goodnight, was written by Stephen Collins Foster in 1852. It is an anti-slavery ballad that was named the state song for Kentucky by the state legislature in 1928.

Prohibition was a nationwide law (18th amendment to the U.S. constitution) that made the production, transportation and sale of alcoholic beverages illegal. The law was in effect from 1920 to 1933. In December 1933, the ratification of the 21st amendment to the U.S. constitution repealed the 18th amendment. However U.S. federal law then, and even still prohibits the manufacture of distilled spirits (moonshine) without meeting special licensing requirements. The U.S. Department of the Treasury's Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives was then/is still responsible for enforcing this law. These enforcers are referred to as "revenuers."