Redemption Mountain (35 page)

*   *   *

T
HE BOULDER FELT
cool and damp on Natty's bare legs as she sat on the edge, her feet dangling over the side. She glanced at her watch. Another few minutes, then she'd have to hustle. She didn't want to be late for school, but it was her first visit to the rock since she'd brought Charlie Burden up here. She closed her eyes and replayed Charlie's words.

Then she thought about Pat Garvey's phone call to hire Buck for the woodcutting project—the job that Charlie Burden had arranged. Finally, a call that wasn't bad news or a bill collector. As she stood up, she noticed a movement far down the trail—something out of place in a scene with no moving parts. She focused and saw that it was a person, too far off to identify, but someone was coming toward her, which was cause for concern.

Natty passed quickly through the grotto, climbed down the path back to the trail, and resumed her run. Whether there was someone on the trail ahead or not, she was going to be late for work if she didn't keep a good pace all the way to the top of Oakes Hollow. A few minutes later, the figure came into view and she saw that it was Charlie. She smiled with relief, then suddenly was alarmed.
Charlie Burden, in his work clothes
. As he drew nearer, Charlie pulled a cellphone from his pocket.

“Natty, call your grandfather,” ordered Charlie, handing her the phone. She took it without comment. “They got something growing up there they shouldn't have?” he asked.

“Oh, shit!” Natty exclaimed.

“Tell him the Marines are on their way.”

There didn't seem much point now in worrying about being late for work. The school would survive without her for a few minutes. Her mother answered the phone. “The police are on the way up. They know about the cornfield. You have about twenty minutes” was all that Natty said, before hanging up.

Charlie described Yarbrough's strike force, including the DEA agents and police. “There was also a cop from the sheriff's office. Big guy, overweight, with a thin mustache.”

Natty nodded knowingly. “That'd be Wayne Lester, a deputy sheriff. Went to high school with him. He was an asshole then, and he's still an asshole.”

They walked together in silence, but Natty could sense Charlie's curiosity. “Mama always told me that Petey grew it just for them—for him and Mama—and didn't sell any. But I
know
that ain't true. Petey grows way too much for just the two of them.”

Natty recalled the first time she ever smelled it—the terrible summer after Annie died, when everyone was miserable. “I went walking down to the chicken house, peeked around the corner, and smelled this sweet smoke floatin' by. Sittin' there on the rocks next to the stream is my mama and Uncle Petey, both smokin' these corncob pipes, with a plastic bag full of weed on the rock between them. 'Course, I didn't know what it was at the time.” She paused. “That was probably about the time they started sleeping together.

“Petey went away for a year when I was in sixth grade, for growing it. But now, instead of Petey going to jail, Bud and Alice are going to lose their farm.” Natty glanced up at Charlie. “That don't seem fair, does it?”

Charlie thought about Hank's history lesson:
Nothin' fair about what the coal companies done to the people of West Virginia.
“No, it's not fair, Natty, but let's wait and see what happens,” Charlie said, trying to sound optimistic.

They walked along, engrossed in their own thoughts, until they entered the dense woods at the end of the trail. As Natty's jumping-off point drew near, they slowed their pace.

“Buck got the call,” Natty said, smiling up at Charlie. “About the timber job.”

“That's good,” said Charlie. He searched Natty's face.

“That was the best call we've had in twelve years.” She reached a hand out and touched Charlie's arm. “Thanks for doing that, Charlie. Buck really needed that.”

“I hope it works out for him,” he said, sounding sincere.

She turned to face Charlie. “Should I call you later? If I find out what happened up there?”

Charlie took a step toward her, reached out, and gently moved the shock of hair that fell across her eyebrow. The tip of his index finger grazed the scar. “Why didn't you tell me about this?” he asked. “When you were telling me about Buck?”

Natty wanted to be mad, to be indignant at his question, but the look of concern on his face wouldn't let her. No man had ever shown her the kind of affection that Charlie Burden had shown with one little gesture, one little question.

“Ain't nothing to tell about,” she whispered. “People make mistakes, is all.”

“That's not a mistake,” said Charlie angrily. “Natty, I'm sorry if you think this is none of my business, but…”

Natty turned toward the gap in the bushes. “But
what,
Charlie?”

He shrugged. “I'm worried about you, Natty. I'm worried about you and the kids.”

Natty didn't want to talk about Buck and the beating he gave her,
ever
, with anybody, but she took in a deep breath and turned back to Charlie. “It was a hard day for Buck, that time he hit me. It was a queer day for everyone in Red Bone. All these strange, rich, beautiful people come flying in on helicopters, giving out free food and booze. Well,
shit
, wasn't all Buck's fault
that
day.” Natty saw the quizzical look on Charlie's face. “That was when you and your friend Duncan McCord came to Red Bone.”

“Natty, when was—”

“You and Mr. McCord came walking alongside the tent, past where Buck and all his boys were drinking themselves silly.”

Charlie looked puzzled. “I vaguely remember coming down for the announcement, but…”

“'Course you don't remember it, Charlie. Why would you? Wasn't a big deal for you. Was nothing for
you
. But for
us
…” Natty recalled the memory of looking up and seeing Duncan McCord standing in front of her.

“Natty, I don't understand what the connection is with that day and Buck.”

“Well, that's just
it,
Charlie,” Natty said. “You don't understand how things are down here. This ain't Westchester County. Ain't no million-dollar houses down here. This is a hard place to live. Hard place for a man to make a living and have a family. I told you that once.” She paused to calm herself.

“Buck sees men like you and Duncan McCord come down here for a couple hours, looking so successful, flying around in shiny black helicopters—well, '
course
he's going to be envious, feel like more of a failure than he already is.” Natty glanced back toward Oakes Hollow. “Just wasn't fair to Buck that day, Charlie,” she said softly. “Wasn't fair to him.”

Charlie watched her, thinking about the irony of Buck's envy.
Should he tell her how much he ached to trade places with Buck? To be her husband and care for her, protect her, and make love to her, and be a father to Pie and Cat.

“Ain't an easy place for a woman, either, Charlie, to try to answer your original question.” She took a couple of steps closer. “Especially a woman with kids, and one with special needs, to boot. Ain't a lot of prospects for a woman down here, so you don't tend to pack up and head for the door every time there's a little
excitement
in your marriage. Got enough welfare families without me takin' Pie and Cat off to live in some dirt-floor shanty with no heat and nothin' to look forward to 'cept a jar of corn liquor and that glassy fix your eyes get when you quit trying.”

She looked up at Charlie and smiled, the light-up-a-room smile that told him she wasn't angry anymore. “Charlie, down here, if you're lucky enough to even
find
someone to love, you got to hold on to that tight as you can, you know? So that's what I'm doing, holding on, hoping it comes out right, and enjoying my daydreams in the meantime.” She raised her eyebrows. “Okay?”

Charlie smiled with resignation. “Okay,” he said.

“Should I call you if I hear anything?” She gestured off toward Redemption Mountain.

Charlie thought for a moment. “No, probably not. Safer if you don't. I'll find out soon enough.”

“Charlie, if you hadn't warned us—and I ain't sure what Bud and Petey can do, anyway—but if you hadn't come out here, then that would have been it for Redemption Mountain, right? Bud'd have no choice but to give it up.”

Charlie shrugged. “Yeah, most likely.”

“So if they find out … find out it was you who told us—”

“Natty,” he interrupted, “don't worry about it. I'll be okay.”

Natty nodded. She wanted to go to him and hug him tightly, but she was afraid. Then Charlie backed away and turned to head up the trail.

“Hey, you coming to our soccer game tomorrow?”

“I wish I could. Going up to New York for a while. Closing on the house,” Charlie answered.

“You coming back?”

Charlie smiled at her. “I'll be back,” he said, starting down the path.

*   *   *

F
ROM BACK UP
on the boulder, the sun was clearly visible, rising over the Alleghenies, igniting the tops of the mountains to the south. And closer, to the southwest, rising out of the hills still gray with shadow, a well-defined plume of dark smoke reached up to a cloud of wispy haze suspended over Redemption Mountain.

 

CHAPTER 21

 

C
harlie was certain the store was on Lexington Avenue somewhere in the high Forties. It had been years since he'd been there, but he was a fairly frequent visitor when the kids were younger. It was hard to find, on the second floor over a luggage store and a camera shop, the kind of team sporting-goods store that Charlie thought must be unique to Manhattan. The store was more like a warehouse than a retail store, a labyrinth of high-ceilinged rooms connected by ramps, each piled high with brown boxes.

Even at 11:00
A.M.
, the store was busy. The clerks—hunchbacked old men who all acted like owners—were busy shepherding customers to the various sections of the store designated for each sport. Charlie found his way to a huge room stacked high with soccer equipment and got the attention of a salesman.

“Need uniforms for a soccer team,” Charlie said.

“Little late in the season, aren'tcha?”

“We're starting over,” said Charlie with a smile. “Red shirts, black shorts, and red socks. Under-fourteen team, fifteen players.”

“Eighteen players,” said the clerk, motioning for Charlie to follow him. “That's the package.”

“Okay, eighteen,” said Charlie. “And some black warm-up jackets.”

“How about some matching pants? Look real sharp,” said the salesman.

“Why not?” said Charlie.

The clerk pulled down several large boxes and showed Charlie the two shirt styles they had in stock. Charlie chose the more expensive of the two, a solid blood-red silk from Nike, with a black collar and stripes running down the sides. The lightweight black nylon shorts also had a red Nike swoosh. “Comes with numbers on the back,” said the salesman, “and for only five bucks more you could put the team name on the front of each shirt.”

“The Bones,” said Charlie.

The salesman smiled. “Got just the thing for you,” he said, leading Charlie over to a huge old book of logos and insignias. He leafed through the heavy book until he found the page he was looking for. There it was—a ferocious-looking silver skull and crossbones with red fire in the eyes. Charlie laughed, imagining the look on Pie's face when he saw it.

“Put it on the back of the jackets, too,” said Charlie.

The salesman raised an eyebrow. “Getting a little pricey now, but I'll see what I can do.”

Charlie smiled. “How about the pants?”

“Team must have rich parents,” said the clerk.

“Yeah,” said Charlie. “They're all in the energy business.”

The order came to $3,500. “Take about two to three weeks—”

“I need it all in Red Bone, West Virginia, by next week,” said Charlie, pulling out his American Express card. “Make it an even four grand if you can get it all there by Monday.”

The clerk smiled as he took Charlie's credit card. “Red Bone. Must be a real ritzy town.”

“Yeah, it's quite a place,” said Charlie.

*   *   *

T
HE NOON RUSH
hour was in full flurry when Charlie returned to the sidewalk. The revolving doors of the office buildings were spinning out the clerks, managers, and CEOs headed for lunch, shopping, or simply to enjoy the crisp fall air and a brisk midday walk in the world's greatest city.

Charlie walked up to 48th Street and headed west. He felt good about the uniforms. The kids would really appreciate them, and there was no reason why Natty's team had to look like the poorest team in the league. Charlie glanced at his watch and saw that he had plenty of time until his two o'clock meeting with the OntAmex and Kerns & Yarbrough people back at DD&M's office on Park Avenue. He'd take a walk through Rockefeller Center, over to Broadway, and back down through Times Square before heading to lunch at Nathan's. A hot dog with everything on it and a root beer would complete the quick dose of New York that he badly needed before heading back to Red Bone that night.

Leaving Nathan's, Charlie glanced across the street and something caught his eye. If he hadn't seen it on the bulletin board in the alcove between Barney's General Store and Eve's Restaurant, he would never have noticed the trademark icon of
Les Misérables
, the haunting image of the waif that had decorated New York for so long it had become invisible to the locals. He wondered if Natty would be on the Red Bone Baptist Church trip to New York, and a glimmer of a plan began to form in the back of his mind.