Broken Chords

Prologue
1896

     “You’re a low-down, mean-faced, ornery cuss of a stinkin’ polecat, Clive Wilson!” Hannah McCade, seventeen years old, felt the blood boil through her veins as she screamed those words across the woodpile at Clive. They stood in the yard behind her cabin home, nestled in the green sugar-lump hills of the Appalachian Mountains of Tennessee.

     Clive’s body glistened in the intense humid air of summer, and Hannah felt her heart break in two at the sight of him, so handsome against the rolling green hills of home. She knew she looked a sight. After a long night of crying, her eyes were puffed and sore. Jet-black tresses stuck to her neck in the suffocating heat of August and her body shook in anger and mortification. The sobs in her throat choked her, but she refused to set them free. Oh no, I ain’t gonna let Clive Wilson see me cry! A slew of nasty words perched on the tip of her tongue, but she feared Mama was at the window, listening. Instead of letting Clive have it, she stood on her side of the woodpile glaring at him, and he glared back.

     “Don’t make such a big hullabaloo. I ain’t a’sittin’ in Summer Creek raisin’ a passel of screamin’ babies for the rest of my born days. I ain’t a’doin’ it!” His muscular forearms cut through the thick air as he spoke.

     “Where’s your mercy, Clive? We got a baby comin’ and you want to skedaddle outta here...” The sudden thought of facing the community alone in her condition terrified her. Once again, she choked back sobs at the impact of this startling revelation.

     “There’s a big world out there a’waitin’ for me, and I’m gonna see it. I ain’t a’sittin’ here in these hills raisin’ no brats with you. I’m leavin’ here today, and I ain’t never comin’ back.”

     With that remark, Hannah grabbed a chunk of firewood. “I hope you die, Clive Wilson!” She flung the wood across the woodpile as hard as she could but, to her utter despair, it fell at least three feet short of its target.

     Her rage was at full steam, now. “You rotten polecat!” she spewed. Grabbing another chunk of firewood, she ran around the woodpile, battling her long skirts as she went. Holding the firewood high over her head, she let go a battle cry and ran at Clive like a madwoman. “I’m gonna kill you dead, Clive Wilson!”

     Clive grinned and ran up the hill into the woods.

     “I hope your pecker rots and falls off, you blasted jackass!” she screamed, but he was gone.

     Hannah threw the chunk of firewood into the empty space in front of her and crumpled to the ground, exhausted. Sitting cross-legged, she stared at the dark hole in the woods into which Clive had disappeared. Pulling the bottom of her apron to her eyes, she finally let go the racking sobs. If only I could take back time!

Back to Broken Chords Cover