"Brother Stevenson, the Postmaster brought this letter for you a few days ago," Miss Worth said as Solon walked into her boarding house just south of the New Orleans and Northeastern Depot (N.O. & N. E.) in muddy Laurel, Mississippi.
"Miss Mary, much obliged," he acknowledged as he began to move to her desk in the wide hall of the ten room boarding house. But first he cleaned his boots vigorously on the front door floor mat. Not satisfied with the job, he said, "Excuse me Ma'am," and went back out on the wide porch and used the boot scraper and his pocket knife to rid his worn boots of Piney Woods winter clay. With the job completed to his satisfaction he returned inside. Smiling as he removed his hat for the second time, he took the letter from the prim, properly attired woman in her mid sixties. She was a contemporary of his it would seem. Solon had been impressed by his hostess when he came into town over three weeks ago.
Several of the folks he had come to see in Jones County had met him in Laurel when he arrived. He'd made arrangements with Miss Mary then and was assured of a room after his time around the county. Several unorthodox religious folk, isolated Universalists, and he had worked up a preaching schedule for his time in the area in hopes of starting a church. Shed Sholers and Andrew Herrington down Ellisville way had been in touch with Dr. Burrus and Solon about getting a "no-hell" preacher to bring the faith of a "larger hope" to Jones County. The Herald editor, Dr. Burrus, had given Solon the names of five subscribers with Jones County addresses and Solon had kept up correspondence with three families he'd met when he passed that way before. Solon was out of Laurel on a rented mount, Ghost, within three hours of his arrival in Laurel. Shed, Andrew and Solon rode to visit those folk and arrange for some meetings at Pleasant Ridge, Ovett, Curtis and Ellisville.
Miss Mary communicated a sincerity and interest in the person she was talking with whether rough millwright, would-be sophisticate, fast-talking drummer or taciturn stranger. That genuiness was a rare gift Solon had learned to appreciate during his years of meeting and dealing with all sorts of folk. He liked this woman. She had style and grace.
"Beautiful Christmas tree, Miss Mary," Solon complimented his hostess as he began to walk with letter in hand to the small writing desk half way down the hall.
"Thank you. Christmas is but five days away and we must be festive, don't you know." Solon nodded in answer and salute. He looked at the letter curiously as he walked the fifteen feet to the mahogany desk. Lou would have wired if there was an emergency. He's received a few letters from her over the years of his traveling. They were not numerous and usually were her musings or wonderings about the boys, stock, crops and such.