Redemption Mountain (56 page)

“Sorry it had to come to this, Bud.” Charlie looked at Alice, who raised her eyes briefly, with a flicker of a smile. Charlie walked back to where he saw a few single folding chairs beyond the last row of seats. He wanted to be out of the way, just a fly on the wall, to observe the proceedings.

If it weren't for Natty, he would've skipped the hearing. But now that he was here, he'd have to suffer through the well-rehearsed performance of the insufferable Yarbrough and his troupe of actors and, afterward, face the open condescension of the victorious Torkelson and Tuthill and the sniffing superiority of Warren Brand. It was the price you paid for being on the losing side.

At least he'd get to see Natty today, and that would almost make it worth it. He wondered again how two people could be so in love with each other without having had any of the physical contact that leads couples to believe they're in love. But Charlie had no doubts.

A few more spectators straggled in, including Hank, who was frowning with disgust as he walked over to speak with Bud and Alice. He nodded briefly to Charlie, then took a seat behind the DeWitts.

The door clicked open again, and a pair of young professional-looking men in business suits came and sat in front of Charlie. They were lawyers, most likely, who, like every other suit in the room, saw an opportunity in the taking of Redemption Mountain.

Finally the judge took his place at the bench, shaking hands with Yarbrough on his way. Charlie eyed them with disgust.
These guys wouldn't even bother to hide their collusion.

One of the court officers banged a heavy staff on the gym floor three times, announcing, “Hear ye, hear ye. The fourth circuit court of the state of West Virginia, now in session. The Honorable Winthrop Goodman presiding.”

The judge briefly described the purpose of the hearing and explained that it was not a trial, that the rules were different, and that, at the end of the day, he would render a binding decision.

“As you can see,” he said, “we've moved the venue of this hearing down to Red Bone for the convenience of the DeWitts and any witnesses they may wish to call.” The judge turned to the other lawyers. “Mr. Callahan representing the state, and Mr. Yarbrough for the petitioners, the Ackerly Coal Company and the OntAmex Energy Company. Gentlemen, you have the floor.”

A lawyer rose and introduced into evidence a dozen precedent-setting cases of eminent domain used by the state of West Virginia to seize private property to be used by the coal-mining industry. In a businesslike manner, he established for the court that this was a routine occurrence.

As the lawyer finished up, the gym door opened and Natty entered, followed by the Pie Man. They quickly took seats next to her mother. Charlie watched her, as did many of the other men in the room. With her new hairstyle, she couldn't hide anymore.

Yarbrough was launching into his opening statement. “This is a textbook case for the proper use of the eminent-domain statute,” he began. Smiling and turning lightly on his feet, using his hands for emphasis while his deep voice filled the gymnasium, he had the attention of the entire room. “A huge, untapped asset, a major seam of low-sulfur coal, needed for the environmentally positive operation of our new power plant, putting hundreds of miners to work.” Several of the miners in the audience voiced their approval, earning a smiling rebuke from the judge. “Bringing home union-wage paychecks and pumping new life into the economy of one of our state's most depressed areas.” Yarbrough was playing every card in the deck.

The Pie Man got up and walked back to Charlie. “Sit down,” said Charlie, squeezing Pie's arm. “Do you know what's going on here, Pie?”

The boy slumped in his seat. “Mama say Grampa and Mawmaw will have to move away from the farm. Mama was mad.”

Yarbrough called several witnesses, including an engineer from Ackerly Coal, who testified that a Redemption Mountain surface mine was the only economically feasible method of supplying the new plant with local coal. Much of what was said was just technical jargon, but there was no way for the DeWitts' lawyer to refute any of it. Yarbrough introduced a document stating that his client, Ackerly Coal, was willing to assume the state's liability for just compensation for the property taken and would pay the DeWitts $100,000 for the farm, “well beyond the assessed value of the property, as your honor can see from the certified appraisal,” Yarbrough added. He turned and smiled at Bud DeWitt. “And, as a gesture of goodwill, we offer to include in the compensation any attorney's fees incurred by the DeWitts in regard to this hearing, as well.”

Then it was the DeWitts' lawyer's turn, and he stumbled badly. His statement was disorganized and rambling. He tried to cite some precedent in the DeWitts' favor but couldn't find the right notes. When he mentioned
mountaintop removal,
he got a forceful objection from Vernon Yarbrough. “No one has mentioned anything about mountaintop removal,” the lawyer admonished. Charlie smiled to himself. No, that would be a separate closed-door hearing between the judge and Yarbrough, over cocktails at their club. Charlie caught the judge looking at his watch. It was already five o'clock, and the buzz level of the room was rising. It was almost over now.

Bud DeWitt settled into the witness chair for his futile statement. His lawyer slumped down in his seat. This wasn't going to be pretty. As Bud started to speak, Natty got up and went out the gymnasium door. Charlie could see from her hunched shoulders that she couldn't take any more.

Bud started with the story of his great-grandfather, an officer in the Army of the West, who settled on Redemption Mountain after the Civil War. But Bud was nervous and spoke in a halting, often unintelligible manner, causing the judge to interrupt him to ask if he could
get on with it,
making Bud even more nervous. No one in the room except Bud's family paid any attention to his story—the only story at the hearing worth telling, and the only testimony worth listening to.

Charlie had started to get up to go find Natty when one of the young businessmen sitting in front of him turned and said something to his companion, and then, to Charlie's surprise, the first man looked over at the older man with the Adam's apple. The younger man tapped his watch, pulled out a black cellphone, and walked toward the back of the gym. There was something going on in the room that Charlie wasn't privy to.

Pie heard it first. “Charlie,” he whispered. “The helicopter is coming!”

He looked out the window, as did many others in the courtroom, to see a flashing light reflecting off the row of green dumpsters in the alley. Bud had stopped talking. All attention in the room was on the incredible noise outside—all, Charlie noticed, but that of the man on the cellphone, whose eyes were trained on the front of the room.

“Your honor, if we could continue?” Yarbrough was trying to regain control of the proceedings. The judge nodded and looked over at Bud DeWitt's lawyer.

“Is your witness about finished, counselor—” He was interrupted by the loud click of the gymnasium door and the entrance of a tall, powerful-looking man with a large round head on its way to complete baldness. The man strode to the front of the room, paying no attention to the judge or the other court officers, who glared at him inquisitively.

Charlie was unable to keep a smile off his face. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew it was going to be something very entertaining by the dramatic entrance of his old friend, Red Landon, the chief operations officer of OntAmex Energy. Landon was probably the sharpest utility executive on the planet, and, from the look on his face, he hadn't come to Red Bone on a social call.

Torkelson looked as if he'd seen a ghost. Then the gymnasium seemed to come alive. The young man with the cellphone had a brief conversation with Landon, who then started toward the back of the gym. The man with the protruding Adam's apple rose and turned to Torkelson and Tuthill. At the same moment, a stampede of loud footsteps came from the hallway.

Charlie sat up in astonishment as Lucien Mackey and Mal Berman came through the door, followed by the CEO of Continental Electric Systems, OntAmex's merger partner. The CEO and his two assistants headed straight for a red-faced Kevin Mulrooney.

The judge banged his gavel three times. “Order in the courtroom, please!” He raised his eyebrows to Yarbrough. “Could somebody tell me what's going on here?” None of the newcomers paid any attention.

Red Landon passed by Charlie without taking his eyes off Torkelson. He placed a heavy hand on Charlie's shoulder as he went by. Lucien made straight for Warren Brand and Terry Summers, and Mal went to the bench for a private conversation with the judge, handing him a packet of legal papers. The two young men who'd been sitting in front of Charlie now had rectangular plastic credentials hanging from silver chains around their necks. As one of the men passed by, Charlie was able to see his badge:
SEC
, it read in large, bold letters, and, beneath that,
INVESTIGATIONS DIVISION.

*   *   *

I
N A DARK
section of the hallway just outside the gymnasium door, Natty sat on the shallow bench at the base of the portable bleachers. She didn't want to watch Bud DeWitt and his lawyer make a pathetic plea for some kind of leniency from the judge and all the lawyers and the big corporation men. None of them cared. All they wanted was their coal, and they weren't interested in family history or the sweat, blood, and heartache that the DeWitts had poured into their farm.

They didn't want to hear about all the DeWitt men who'd put down their plows to go off to fight America's wars or about those who never made it back to West Virginia. And they didn't want to hear about any DeWitt children or grandchildren buried on the side of Redemption Mountain.

Natty clenched her teeth in anger. Better for Bud to just stand up and give the judge and the rest of them his middle finger and walk out than to grovel through this pathetic, heroic, sad, wonderful story of the DeWitt family. But, no, Bud would never do that. Bud would be a gentleman to the end. Natty wiped the tears from her cheeks and wished she had a cigarette. She heard the roar of the helicopter overhead and knew the hearing would soon be over.

Then the outside door at the end of the hallway was pulled open, and she watched a large man with hunched shoulders move quickly down the hall. He didn't even look at Natty as he passed and yanked open the door to the gym. Then came a group of men who appeared to be lawyers or businessmen. They definitely weren't locals.

She didn't know what was going on with all these newcomers, but, from the look of them, it could only mean bad news. Natty leaned back against the surface of the wooden bleachers and closed her eyes while she waited for the hearing to end.

She heard the distant click of the outside door opening once more but ignored it, choosing to keep her eyes shut to the rest of the day's proceedings.
Just another latecomer to the lawyers' party
, she could tell from the sound of the hard, expensive shoes hitting the wooden flooring of the hallway. Forceful, confident, but walking more slowly than the others. Close to her now. And then the footsteps stopped. Natty waited to hear the gymnasium door open but instead heard a voice right in front of her. A voice that—even after two and a half years—she knew immediately. “Are you all right, miss?”

Natty opened her eyes and saw Duncan McCord standing a foot away, his arms in front of him, his fingers interlocked, leaning forward with a concerned look on his face. He wore the same suit he'd worn to the picnic the day the helicopters came. Natty smiled. “You gotta stop using that line on me. I'm sick of it,” she said, looking up at the OntAmex president.

McCord stared at Natty for a few seconds, and a smile came over his face. “You've changed your hair, Natty, but you still have beautiful eyes.”

“Thank you,” Natty whispered, shocked that he remembered her.

McCord turned his head toward the gymnasium door. “What's going on here today, Natty?”

Natty frowned. “Oh, the lawyers and the coal men are taking my grandpa's farm away from him.”

McCord looked slowly from Natty to the gym and back again. “Those
fucking
lawyers,” he said, shaking his head.

Natty burst out laughing, then covered her mouth quickly, afraid that they may have heard her in the gym. It was the first time she'd laughed all week, and it felt good for a change.

McCord smiled and started off toward the gym. “Let's see if we can't do something about your grandpa's farm.”

It took only a few seconds for the tumultuous buzz of the many furtive conversations in the gym to come to a complete halt. Duncan McCord stood inside the gym door, hands in his pockets, feet spread wide as he coolly scanned the room with penetrating eyes that missed nothing. The stillness of the room didn't hurry him. Even those who didn't know who he was knew better than to interrupt.

McCord looked at the judge and nodded. He walked over to the witness box where Bud DeWitt sat, dumbfounded. “You Bud DeWitt?” McCord asked.

“Yeah, uh, yes, sir,” Bud answered.

McCord smiled and held out his hand. “Mr. DeWitt, I'm Duncan McCord, president of the OntAmex Energy Company, and I personally apologize for the troubles you've been put through over this. You can sit down now, sir. This is all over.” McCord patted Bud lightly on the shoulder as the farmer passed by, returning to his seat. Then he walked past the judge's bench and stood in front of Vernon Yarbrough. “You our lawyer?”

Yarbrough rose, a practiced grin coming on like an involuntary reaction, his right hand pushing forward toward McCord. “Why, yes, sir. Vernon Yarb—”

“You're fired,” said McCord, with no hint of a smile on his face, his hands at his sides. With his left hand, he made a fist with thumb extended and jerked it toward the door. “Get out!” he said angrily. “Now, before I kick your ass all over this room.”