Redemption Mountain (4 page)

The governor went to the microphone next and prepared to make the big announcement. Sally returned from the bar with a half dozen bottles of ice-cold Molson, attracting a lot of attention in her skintight halter top and short shorts.

The governor described the new billion-dollar coal-fired power plant to be built on the site and all the new jobs it would create. He received polite applause from a crowd that had been let down before by smiling politicians and knew well the history of abuse the counties of southern West Virginia had suffered for so many years at the hands of companies that had come for the coal.

The governor ended by bringing Duncan McCord, president and CEO of OntAmex Energy, to the microphone. He thanked many of the same people the governor did, then explained how big the power plant was going to be and how important it was to his company.

The last speaker was Kevin Mulrooney, an executive of Ackerly Coal of Pittsburgh, the largest mining company in West Virginia. Mulrooney was well over three hundred pounds, with a red face and a head that sat directly on his shoulders without the assistance of a neck. He spoke with a strong Irish accent about the quality and purity of McDowell's low-sulfur coal. Finally, he got to the point and announced that Ackerly Coal had just signed a contract with OntAmex Energy to supply the coal for the new power plant. The amount of coal the new plant would require was a minimum of eight thousand tons a day, bringing hundreds of new mining jobs and millions of dollars to the local economy. Mulrooney received about as generous a welcome as a mining-company executive could expect in McDowell County, no matter how good his news.

As Cat ran off to find the other kids, Natty looked around for Pie and saw him on the stage, jumping up and down, waving to her with his big
happy face
. She stood and was waving back when she noticed Duncan McCord walking down the path between the tent and the picnic tables. He was with another man, who, like McCord, had a lean, athletic build. She saw he had a rugged handsome face, with a crooked nose that made him look like he might've been a boxer. Both men were holding Molsons and strolling in the direction of Natty's table. She sat down quickly, suddenly feeling a pang of self-consciousness.

She didn't want to stare, but she couldn't keep herself from watching the two men out of the corner of her eye. The woman with the notebook approached McCord, holding her cellphone out to him. With a quick shake of his head, he declined the call, and she retreated immediately.

At one of the tables, McCord and his friend stopped for a little chat with some old miners, laughing over somebody's quip, and walked away smoking fat brown cigars they'd begged like a couple of street people.

Sally had just turned her head and noticed the two men getting closer. She inspected McCord's friend unabashedly, then turned back to Natty with her eyeballs rolling. “Get a load of this one coming; he is
beautiful!
” She turned for another quick look as Natty pretended not to know whom she was talking about.

Natty looked back at the stage to see if she could engage Pie in another wave and so avoid any eye contact with the two men, who were almost beside the table. She wished she hadn't just pinned her hair up hastily. She must have looked like she had a pile of straw sitting on top of her head. Natty was moving her head back and forth with squinting eyes, looking for her son in the crowd, when she felt the men stop at the end of the table. Sally was saying something about having a good time in West Virginia, and then the CEO of OntAmex Energy was standing directly in front of Natty on the other side of the picnic table. The man who could make a decision to spend a billion dollars was saying something to her. She was forced to turn her eyes to him and saw a look of concern on his face.

“Are you all right, miss?” he asked.

Natty wondered how he could tell. She tried to smile. “Well, I'm a little buzzed, I guess. I don't usually drink in the—” He cut her off with a smile.

“No, no, I mean that,” he said, gesturing toward her chest. Natty peered down at the front of her tank top and gasped at the bright red stain left by Catherine's face. The red blotches looked like dried blood.

“
Oh, fuck!
” she cried, without thinking, reaching for a napkin. “Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. It's only ketchup from my daughter's hot dog.”

McCord smiled. “Well, I'm glad you're not bleeding to death.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Natty thought about pouring some beer on the stain, but it was obvious that there was nothing to be done. She'd already made an ass of herself, so she just smiled. “Thank you, but I'm okay.”

“I'll get you something to wear,” McCord offered, as he turned to find the woman with the notebook. At his gesture, she was instantly by his side. She listened intently to McCord, then left at a quick pace toward the helicopters. He turned back to Natty. “My assistant will get you something to put on.”

“There's no need for that, really,” Natty protested. “I look like this all the time.”

“It's my pleasure. I'm Duncan McCord,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Natty Oakes,” she replied, wiping her palm on the thigh of her blue jeans before reaching out to take his hand. “Thank you,” she added. “Thank you for coming to West Virginia and building your … thing in Red Bone.”

“You're welcome, Mrs. Oakes.” He let go of her hand but continued to study her face. Natty looked away, embarrassed. “You know, Natty, you have very beautiful eyes.” Before she could say anything, he added, “It was a great pleasure to meet you.” Then he turned and walked off to rejoin his friend.

Natty smiled weakly at Sally, who hadn't missed any of what had gone on. Normally she would have had a sarcastic comment for a situation like this, but this time she let it pass and looked away, having seen the drop of moisture in the corner of Natty's eye.

The woman with the notebook returned with a package wrapped in plastic. “I hope this will do,” she said, handing it to Natty. She was very attractive, with a lot of makeup, perfectly applied.

Natty pulled open the plastic covering the soft package and unfolded a beautiful jacket, which was exactly like those the helicopter pilots were wearing. The black nylon shell had silver rings at the ends of the sleeves and at the waist and a soft tan lining. On the left breast, embossed in silver, was the OntAmex logo, with the words
ONTAMEX ENERGY
in a circle crossed by a lightning bolt.

“Holy shit,” she whispered. “I was thinking maybe a T-shirt. Wait 'til Pie sees this.” She was startled by the sound of the helicopters firing up their turbines, the big rotors beginning to spin. A few minutes later they were airborne, quickly becoming distant specks as they rose over the mountains toward Charleston. Natty watched until they disappeared in the deep-blue sky to the north, carrying all those rich, beautiful people.

She thought about Duncan McCord and his handsome friend, who seemed so much more genuine than the politicians. She wondered if it was true, what everyone said about big utilities and coal companies always screwing the common folk. McCord and his friend were probably headed straight home to be with their beautiful wives in their expensive homes and wouldn't even remember their afternoon in Red Bone, West Virginia.

A noise from the tent reminded her of Buck. One of the men had fallen off the edge of a picnic table and was having trouble getting up. The rest of the group laughed hysterically, in the typical drunken overreaction to any alcohol-induced mishap. The men were getting louder by the moment. Natty could pick out the harsh rasp of Buck's liquor-soaked voice. She hated it when he got this bad; he was unpredictable and uncontrollable. Better to leave him be and take the kids home, batten down the hatches, and wait for the coming storm. This was going to be a bad one. She'd seen the warning signs before.

*   *   *

N
EAR THE END
of the road, Natty could see the framework of steel girders rising beneath a huge crane. OntAmex had paved a road around their site, which was said to be an after-hours racetrack for the teenagers. Up ahead the new road branched off, running through the large sliding gate to the grounds. Inside the fence was a long building with a dozen windows. This was the main administration building, the object of Natty's search.

“Damn,” she said under her breath. In front of the building, several dozen cars and pickups were parked in the unmarked lot, and at least forty men lingered outside the building.
The ad in the paper for construction workers said apply in person at nine
a.m.
Hell, by nine o'clock there'll be two hundred men lined up. Buck won't even get out of his truck when he sees that mob.

Natty darted into the woods, down a narrow path that led to an old logging road and back to South County Road. Halfway to Old Red Bone, she saw another runner coming toward her at a good clip. Natty knew instantly who it was. She'd seen Emma Lowe run before. Natty slowed her pace and wondered how many other thirteen-year-old girls were out doing roadwork at six-thirty in the morning.

They walked toward each other, both catching their breath, then hugged in the middle of the road. “Damn, Emma, you've grown about three inches already this summer. Look at you, you're taller than I am now.” Natty put an arm around the girl's waist. Emma was several inches taller.

Emma smiled self-consciously, her thin arms crossed in front of her chest. “I guess I growed some, but I needed to, Mama says.” Emma Lowe was painfully shy and spoke in a barely audible whisper, even to Natty, who, outside her family, was the adult Emma was most comfortable with. She had thick, coarse black hair tied in a ponytail and heavy eyebrows that would someday join in the middle. Her eyes were small and dark, set closely together. A wide nose and full lips were the most visible gifts from her black grandmother, Ada Lowe.

“How're Mama and Papa and Ada doing?” Natty inquired. It had been at least a month since she'd seen Emma.

“They're all fine, 'cept Papa's shop ain't doing too good, he says, 'cause o' that new gas station out at the crossroads. But Mama's okay, and Mawmaw Ada's real good.”

“And how about you? What're you doing out here so early? Getting in shape already? Season don't start 'til September, you know.”

“Naw, I ain't worried about that. I just like to run a couple of times a week, sometimes more. Makes me feel good. It's like, you know, the only thing I'm good at.” Emma spoke so softly that she always sounded sad.

Natty understood how she felt. “Well, we both know it's not the only thing you're good at, but I know what you mean, it does feel good.” She gave Emma a long hug and told her the first soccer practice would be the last week in August and that she'd post a schedule on the bulletin board in Eve's Restaurant. She watched as Emma loped off down the road with long, graceful strides.

Natty saw so much of herself in Emma—the insecurity, shyness, and the need to withdraw into physical exertion. But Emma, Natty knew, was much different from her. Emma had a gift, an immense talent that would transport her out of McDowell County one day and make up for any shortcomings she might have in the way of looks or intelligence or personality. Unlike Natty, Emma would never be considered pretty or anything more than an average student. But, at thirteen, Emma Lowe was without argument the finest soccer player for her age that anyone in southern West Virginia had ever seen, boys included. Not just an excellent player, the best on the field at any one time, but an extraordinary player with near-magical ability in every facet of the game.

Natty let out a giggle when she thought about how good Emma would be this year. She was noticeably taller and looked stronger, and she knew that Emma continued to practice her soccer skills year-round.

As Natty came into Old Red Bone, she looked over at the soccer field off to her left. What grass there was on the field was at least a foot high, surrounding large bare patches of earth where not even weeds would grow. It was a mess, as always. The worst field in the league by far. Before the season started, Natty and Pie would come out and fill in some of the holes and ruts.

At one end of the field was a small L-shaped building with a gray-shingled roof. A plain white sign said
RED BONE CHILDREN'S LIBRARY
. Natty saw that the sagging roof had gotten worse. She made a mental note that, before any serious rain came, she'd have to move the rest of the books into the storeroom at the dry end of the building.

A voice above her interrupted her thoughts. “Morning, Mrs. Oakes. Little late this morning. Sleep in, did we?”

Natty looked high up, toward the back porch on the fourth floor of the old brown stone building that stood on the corner of Main Street. She found P. J. Hankinson where he was most mornings, leaning over the porch railing, wearing only his boxer shorts and a wide-brimmed straw hat, his teacup resting on the wooden railing. “Hey, Hank. Just getting slow in my old age, is all.” Natty gave the old man a wave before she disappeared from view, going up past the building and turning right onto Main Street.

On the first floor of the building was Barney's General Store, which was actually a hardware, grocery, bakery, liquor store, and gift shop rolled into one. Natty looked through the big windows of the restaurant section and waved to Buck's sister, Eve, who was sweeping the floor. The widow of the late Barney Brewster, Eve smiled as Natty ran by.

A quarter of a mile down Main Street, Natty left the road and picked up the trail that ran along the long southern flank of Red Bone Mountain. The path ran through the dark woods and out into the sunlight, along rocky ledges where the view was spectacular.

At around the midpoint of the trail, Natty came to a stop and began a laborious climb through the rocks and trees, up a steep, narrow goat path that few people would even notice. She hadn't been to her spot in several weeks, and today she thought she deserved a few minutes on the rock.