Joining Napoleon’s second run at power proved dangerous, and Crozet immigrated to America. If he had a fortune, he carefully concealed it and lived off his salary. His greatest feat was cutting four railroad tunnels through the Blue Ridge Mountains, a task begun in 1850 and completed eight years later.
The first tunnel was west of Crozet: the Greenwood tunnel, 536 feet, and sealed after 1944, when a new tunnel was completed. Over the eastern portal of the Greenwood tunnel, carved in stone, is the legend: C. CROZET, CHIEF ENGINEER; E. T. D. MYERS, RESIDENT ENGINEER; JOHN KELLY, CONTRACTOR. A.D. 1852.
The second tunnel, Brooksville, 864 feet, was also sealed after 1944. This was a treacherous tunnel because the rock proved soft and unreliable.
The third tunnel was the Little Rock, 100 feet long and still in use by the C O.
The fourth was the Blue Ridge, a long 4,723 feet.
Unused tracks ran to the sealed tunnels. They built things to last in the nineteenth century, for none of the rails had ever warped.
Crozet was reputed to have hidden his fortune in one of the tunnels. This story was taken seriously enough by the C O Railroad that they carefully inspected the discontinued tunnels before sealing them after World War II. No treasure was ever found.
Mrs. Hogendobber left immediately after being corrected. She passed Ned Tucker, Susan’s husband, on his way in. They exchanged pleasantries. Tee Tucker, barking merrily, rushed out to greet Ned. Mrs. Murphy climbed out of the mail bin and jumped onto the counter. She liked Ned. Everyone did.
He winked at Harry.“Well, have you been born again?”
“No, and I wasn’t born yesterday either.” She laughed.
“Mrs. H. was unusually terse this morning.” He grabbed a huge handful of mail, most of it for the law office of Sanburne, Tucker, and Anderson.
“Count your blessings,” Harry said.
“I do, every day.” Ned smiled. Escaping a tirade of salvation on this hot July morning was just one blessing and Ned was a happy enough man to know there’d be many more. He stooped to rub Tucker’s ears.
“You can rub mine, too,” Mrs. Murphy pleaded.
“He likes me better than you.” Tucker relished being the center of attention.
“Don’t you love the sounds they make?” Ned kept scratching. “Sometimes I think they’re almost human.”
“Can you believe that?” Mrs. Murphy licked her front paws. Being human, the very thought! Humans lacked claws, fur, and their senses were dismal. Why, she could hear a doodlebug burrow in the sand. Furthermore, she understood everything humans said in their guttural way. They rarely understood her or other animals, much less one another. To get a reaction out of even Harry, who she confessed she did love, she had to resort to extravagant behavior.
“Yeah, I don’t know what I’d do without my kids. Speaking of which, how’re yours?”
Ned’s eyes darted for a moment. “Harry, I’m beginning to think that sending Brookie to private school was a mistake. She’s twelve going on twenty, and a perfect little snob too. Susan wants her to return to St. Elizabeth’s in the fall but I say we yank her out of there and pack her back to public middle school with her brother. There she has to learn how to get along with all different kinds of people. Her grades fell and that’s when Susan decided she was going to St. Elizabeth’s. We went through public school, we learned, and we turned out all right.”
“It’s a tough call, Ned. They weren’t selling drugs in the bathroom when you were in school.”
“They were by the time we got to Crozet High. You had the good sense to ignore it.”
“No, I didn’t have the money to buy the stuff. Had I been one of those rich little subdivision kids—like today—who’s to say?” Harry shrugged.
Ned sighed.“I’d hate to be a child now.”
“Me too.”
Bob Berryman interrupted.“Hey!” Ozzie, his hyper Australian shepherd, tagged at his heels.
“Hey, Berryman,” Harry and Ned both called back to him out of politeness. Berryman’s personality hovered on simmer and often flamed up to boil.
Mrs. Murphy and Tucker said hello to Ozzie.
“Hotter than the hinges of hell.” Berryman sauntered over to his box and withdrew the mail, including the registered letter slip. “Shit, Harry, gimme a pen.” She handed him a leaky ballpoint. He signed the slip and glared at the IRS notice. “The world is going to hell in a handbasket and the goddamned IRS controls the nation! I’d kill every one of those sons of bitches given half the chance!”
Ned walked out of the post office waving goodbye.
Berryman gulped some air, forced a smile, and calmed himself by petting Mrs. Murphy, who liked him although most humans found him brusque.“Well, I’ve got worms to turn and eggs to lay.” He pushed off.
Bob’s booted feet clomped on the first step as he closed the front door. As she didn’t hear a second footfall, Harry glanced up from her stamp pads.
Walking toward Bob was Kelly Craycroft. His chestnut hair, gleaming in the light, looked like burnished bronze. Kelly, an affable man, wasn’t smiling.
Wagging his tail, Ozzie stood next to Bob. Bob still didn’t move. Kelly arrived at the bottom step. He waited a moment, said something to Bob which Harry couldn’t hear, and then moved up to the second step, whereupon Bob pushed him down the steps.
Furious, his face darkening, Kelly scrambled to his feet.“You asshole!”
Harry heard that loud and clear.
Bob, without replying, sauntered down the steps, but Kelly, not a man to be trifled with, grabbed Bob’s shoulder.
“You listen to me and you listen good!” Kelly shouted.
Harry wanted to move out from behind the counter. Good manners got the better of her. It would be too obvious. Instead she strained every fiber to hear what was being said. Tucker and Mrs. Murphy, hardly worried about how they’d look to others, bumped into each other as they ran to the door.
This time Bob raised his voice.“Take your hand off my shoulder.”
Kelly squeezed harder and Bob balled up his fist, hitting him in the stomach.
Kelly doubled over but caught his breath. Staying low, he lunged, grabbing Bob’s legs and throwing him to the pavement.
Ozzie, moving like a streak, sank his teeth into Kelly’s left leg. Kelly hollered and let go of Bob, who jumped up.
“No” was all Bob had to say to Ozzie, and the dog immediately obeyed. Kelly stayed on the ground. He pulled up his pants leg. Ozzie’s bite had broken the skin. A trickle of blood ran into his sock.
Bob said something; his voice was low. The color ran out of Kelly’s face.
Bob walked over to his truck, got in, started the motor, and pulled out as Kelly staggered to his feet.
Jolted by the sight of blood, Harry shelved any concern about manners. She opened the door, hurrying over to Kelly.
“Better put some ice on that. Come on, I’ve got some in the refrigerator.”
Kelly, still dazed, didn’t reply immediately.
“Kelly?”
“Oh—yeah.”
Harry led him into the post office. She dumped the ice out of the tray onto a paper towel.
Kelly was reading his postcard when she handed him the ice. He sat down on the bench, rolled up his pants leg, and winced when the cold first touched his leg. He stuck his mail in his back pocket.
“Want me to call Doc?” Harry offered.
“No.” Kelly half smiled. “Pretty embarrassing, huh?”
“No more embarrassing than my divorce.”
That made Kelly laugh. He relaxed a bit.“Hey, Mary Minor Haristeen, there is no such thing as a good divorce. Even if both parties start out with the best of intentions, when the lawyers get into it, the whole process turns to shit.”
“God, I hope not.”
“Trust me. It gets worse before it gets better.” Kelly removed the ice. The bleeding had stopped.
“Keep it on a little longer,” Harry advised. “It will prevent swelling.”