The train that was going to Knoxville wouldn’t pass by for several hours, so Berthy wandered around the carnival, curious and sometimes repulsed by what she saw. She was uncomfortable because her daddy had told her that carnivals were Satan’s playhouse. She again saw girls wearing short shorts and was tempted to call them to repentance, but the last time she’d done that, there were severe repercussions that took three years out of her life. As she passed the hoochie-coochie tent, she clutched her crystal hard, put a hex on a dime, and gave it to the scantily dressed woman taking tickets. Berthy smiled.

The air was filled with music, laughter, and the tempting smells of carnival food. She was hungry and bought a hot dog with chili but no onions. She hated onions and was suspicious of people who ate them. Up in the mountains, her brothers ate wild ramps they’d find in the woods. They were ten times worse than onions.

She was starting to relax and enjoy the less sinful sights of the carnival. As she was finishing up the hot dog, an overconfident man who obviously thought himself to be God’s gift to women approached her and said, “Hey there, pretty lady. How about you and me take a stroll around the carnival?”

Berthy, cautious, said, “Excuse me? I don’t think so, Mister.”

The man: “Aw, come on now. Don’t be like that. I bet we could have a real good time. I’ll pay for all the rides, food, and sideshows.”

Berthy: (firmly) “I said no. And I mean it. I don’t run around with men I don’t know.”

The man (reaching out and grabbing her arm) “Don’t be so uptight, sweetheart.”

Berthy: (swiftly) “That’s it! How many times do I have to say no?” Without thinking, she stabbed him in the eyes with her fingers, grabbed him by the neck, and knocked him to the ground. A swift and really hard kick to his crotch with her boot settled him down for the evening. Her brother, who’d been in the Army, taught her those tricks. He said the secret was to catch ‘em by surprise before they could react. He warned her that crotch kicks sometimes just enraged men and didn’t always work, so it was essential to have a Plan B.
The man: (clutching his groin and groaning) “Hey, why did you do that?”

Berthy: (calmly) “For not taking no for an answer. Now, git outta here a’fore I put my other boot to yore noggin. Hit’s beggin’ for a rearranging, and I think I could move yore face to the backside of yore head. From now on, you remember to treat womenfolk with respect, and you’ll be fine.”

Having had enough of the carnival, Berthy started making her way back to the railroad tracks to wait for the next train. As she did so, she was stopped by a gypsy woman with a colorful scarf and piercing eyes. “Let me tell your fortune,” the gypsy asked, holding out her hand. Curious, Berthy hesitated and nodded OK.

The gypsy took her hand, traced her fingers across the palm, closed her eyes, and murmured softly. After a moment, she looked up, her expression serious. “You will change lives on your journey. Your cats will be safe during your absence from home. Do not be discouraged by the obstacles you face, for there will be many. A higher power guides your path, and you will have an important dream that will help guide you.” Bertha wasn’t impressed and discounted the fortune but was intrigued that the gypsy knew that she had cats.

Berthy thanked the gypsy and continued to the tracks, pondering the fortune. She found an isolated boxcar parked on a sidetrack and hopped in. It was empty, and she found herself alone. She was tired and lay down for a quick nap. She soon fell into a deep sleep and had a strange dream.

In the dream, she saw herself standing on a narrow path on a bank above a raging river. On the other side, she could see a bunch of houses and a church house, all with lights twinkling like stars. The people were laughing and appeared to be happy. She was attracted to the lights, but the river seemed impossible to cross. Between her and the river, there was a barbed wire fence. A lot of people were crawling through the fence, trying to get to the river. Many were getting cut by the barbs and bleeding. Others went on down to the water and tried swimming across. Many people made it across, but others were washed away in the current. Berthy was tempted to climb over the fence but backed off when she realized how wild the river was. And she was filled with doubt. She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer that she’d be protected.

Then, the river’s water began to calm, parting to reveal a narrow path of steppingstones. Filled with wonder, Berthy climbed the fence and started walking across the river. As she did so, several monsters jumped from the water and attempted to knock her off the rocks she was on, but she was able to fight them off. When she recognized that people who had reached the other side were not really happy and were scantily dressed and making lewd gestures, she turned around and climbed back up to the path. On the path were angels, and she followed them to a beautiful home where people welcomed her warmly and offered her food and shelter.

Berthy awoke from the dream with a start, the images still vivid in her mind. She felt that she had been forewarned that her journey to Chattanooga would be filled with temptations and challenges, but she felt a renewed sense of purpose and confidence. And she was determined not to wander from the path. She would be protected as long as she had faith and determination.
…
The train from Morristown to Knoxville was on schedule. She easily found the track it was on, leaped aboard, and found herself in a boxcar by herself. When she arrived in Knoxville, it was late. She jumped off, headed to an area where some empty boxcars were parked on a sidetrack, and climbed into one. The train to Chattanooga didn’t leave until 5 a.m. the following morning, so she took the blanket from her backpack, set her alarm clock, and fell asleep in the corner.

Knoxville was a key stop on the Southern Railway network, serving both passenger and freight trains. She easily jumped onto a moving boxcar now that she was getting the hang of it. The train started with a noisy jerk and rattled into the night, its rhythmic clatter a soothing backdrop as Berthy rested in a corner of the boxcar. She had the space to herself, the cool night air drifting in through the open door. The events of the previous day played through her mind, from her unexpected reunion with Wanda to the gypsy’s cryptic fortune and the strange dream.

A figure swung into the boxcar as the train slowed down in a bend about twenty miles outside of Knoxville. The stranger moved with a quiet grace; his features obscured by the shadows. Berthy’s hand instinctively went to Hercules, ready to pull it out if needed.

The figure stepped into the light, revealing a tall man with high cheekbones, a neatly trimmed beard, and piercing blue eyes. He wore a black coat and carried a small, beat-up suitcase. He looked cunning and sinister, and Berthy was afraid.

“Good evening,” he said, his voice surprisingly smooth and deceptively calm. “Mind if I join you?”

Berthy eyed him warily but nodded. “Suit yourself. Just keep to yore side, and don’t you dare come near me. I don’t trust people I don’t know.”

The man smiled and settled down across from her. They rode in silence; the only sound was the steady clack of the train wheels. Finally, curiosity got the better of Berthy.

“Who are you, mister?” she asked.

“Call me Lucian,” he replied. “And you must be Berthy. I’ve heard about you.”

Berthy’s eyes narrowed. “Heard about me? From who?”

Lucian chuckled softly. “Word travels fast among those of us who run the rails. I was behind you at the carnival when you bought a hot dog. Where are you going? What’s your story?”

Berthy responded, “I’m going someplace interesting, and it’s none of your business. “And Stories are for friends. And we ain’t friends.”

Elias: “Fair enough. But you might want to watch your back. Not everyone you meet is as friendly as I am. I can take care of you.” There was a coldness in his voice that hinted at a darker nature. He was twirling a silver ring on his finger.

Berthy: “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the warning. But I can handle myself.”

Stranger: “We’ll see about that. Why don’t you share that blanket with me? If we sit close, there’s enough room for two, and we can stay warmer.”

Berthy remained cautious and guarded, thinking the man resembled someone she’d seen across the riverbank in the dream. The stranger continued talking, trying to probe and gain her trust. She was on high alert, and her instinct was to think quickly and stay one step ahead of what the stranger might try. As he stood up and started coming toward her, Berthy said, “Mister, stay where you’re at.”

Lucian acted like he didn’t hear and continued toward Berthy. As he reached his hands forward, she sensed that he was going to grab her, and she said, “I think it’s time for you to git off this train.” Then, she surprised him by leaping up, screaming in his face, and pushed him towards the open door of the moving train. He lost his balance, flailed his arms, and tried to grab onto something, but it was too late. He tumbled out, his face a mix of shock and anger. He hit the gravel by the side of the track and rolled…and the train continued speeding into the night. She threw his suitcase out the door and took a deep breath, knowing she had made the right decision to protect herself. The night got quiet again, but she remained vigilant, aware that danger could be anywhere.

She tried to go to sleep, but she couldn’t shake the look on the stranger’s face as he fell into the darkness. She wondered if he’d been hurt in the fall. She worried that he might still be able to find her somehow and harm her, but after a while, the rhythmic clatter of the train tracks soothed her nerves, and she dozed off.
As the train neared the next stop, Berthy jumped off the train before the trainyard in case railroad bulls were inspecting the boxcars. Her eyes darted around, scrutinizing every angle. She kept her back to the wall, ensuring no one could sneak up on her. She wondered if the stranger might have gotten back on the train and could be looking for her. On high alert, she told herself, “Stay calm. Just keep moving.” Nothing happened, and the coast was clear. As the train started to move again, she hopped back into the boxcar.
From that time forward, Berthy’s hyper-vigilance becomes a constant companion, a survival tool. She would trust no one and rely on her instincts to navigate the dangers lurking around every corner. The uncertainty of the stranger’s fate haunted her, but it also sharpened her resolve to stay one step ahead of all strangers. And react quickly before they could get near her. It was her or them.

Her hyper-vigilance and distance made her a solitary figure, driven by the need to not be caught by surprise. Yet, deep down, the loneliness gnawed at her, a silent reminder of the price one pays for their safety.

As the train continued, Berthy felt a renewed sense of purpose. Her vision might sometimes lead her astray, but with her instincts and Hercules, she could navigate whatever challenges lay ahead.
God was protecting her.
……
I hope you’ll follow and share my stories with your friends and follow me on Facebook. I have plenty more stories from the same place this one came from. I also have books for sale on Amazon (MUSING APPALACHIA BY HARVEY HUGHETT) I may have written other stories on a different topic that may interest you. If so, let me know and I’ll see what I can come up with but don’t ask how I know about hopping trains :)