Gray Mountain: A Novel(108)

He stopped and rubbed his eyes with his fingers.

“They cheated, they won, and they’ll do it again because they write the rules. I guess there’s no way to stop them. They got the money, the power, the doctors, and I guess the judges. Some system.”

“There’s no way to stop them, Samantha?” Mavis pleaded.

“A lawsuit, I guess. The one Donovan filed, and there’s still a chance that another firm might refile it. We haven’t given up.”

“But you’re not taking the case, right?”

“Mavis, I’ve explained this before. I’m from New York, okay? I’m an intern, here for only a few months, then gone. I cannot initiate a lawsuit that will take five years of pretty intense litigation in federal court. We’ve covered this, right?”

Neither responded.

Minutes passed as the offices grew even quieter; the only sound was Buddy’s painful breathing. He cleared his throat again and said, “Look, Samantha, you’re the only lawyer we’ve ever had, the only one who’s ever been willing to help us. If we’d had a lawyer ten years ago maybe things would be different. But anyway, we can’t go back there. We drove over here today to say one thing, and that’s to thank you for taking my case.”

“And being so kind to us,” Mavis said, jumping in. “We thank the Lord every day for you and your willingness to help us.”

“It means more than you’ll ever know.”

“Just having a real lawyer out there fighting for us means so much.”

Both were crying again.





34


Her first glimpse of Gray Mountain had been by air. Her second had been by boat and four-wheeler, a much more intimate visit two and a half weeks before last Christmas. Her third was by pickup truck, a more traditional means in those parts. Jeff picked her up in Knox, where she left her car in the same library parking lot. One look at the truck and she said, “You get a new one?” It was a massive vehicle, a Dodge something or other, and definitely not the one she’d seen before.

“No. It belongs to a friend,” he said, vague as always. In the back were two red kayaks, a cooler, and several backpacks. “Let’s go.” They left town in a hurry. He seemed tense and his eyes kept darting from one mirror to the other.

“Are those canoes back there?” she asked.

“No, they’re kayaks.”

“Okay. What does one do with a kayak?”

“You’ve never been in a kayak?”

“Again, I’m from the city.”

“Okay, with a kayak one goes kayaking.”

“Or one sits by the fire with a book and a glass of wine. I’m not getting wet, you hear?”

“Relax, Sam.”

“I still prefer Samantha, especially from the guy I’m currently sleeping with. Sam is okay when it’s my father, never my mother, and now Mattie can get away with it. Sammie will get a person slapped. It’s confusing, okay, but for now why don’t you just stick with Samantha?”

“It’s your name. I’m getting sex with no strings so I’ll call you whatever you want.”

“Get right to the point don’t you?”

He laughed and turned up the stereo—Faith Hill. They left the main highway and bounced along a narrow county road. As they began a steep ascent, he suddenly turned onto a gravel road, one that ran along a ridge with forbidding canyons below. She tried not to look, but flashed back to her first adventure with Donovan, when they climbed to the top of Dublin Mountain and looked down at the Enid Mine site. Vic had startled them, and then they were spotted by security. It seemed so long ago, and now Donovan was dead.

Jeff turned again, and again. “I’m sure you know where you’re going,” she said, but only to register concern. “I grew up here,” he said without looking. A dirt trail still half-covered with snow stopped at a dead end. Through the trees she could see the cabin.

As they were unloading the truck, she asked, “What about the kayaks? I’m not hauling these things.”

“We’ll have to check the creek. I’m afraid the water might be too low.” They lifted the small cooler and backpacks from the truck and carried them to the cabin, fifty yards away. The snow was four inches deep and covered with the tracks of animals. There appeared to be no boot prints or signs of human visitors. Samantha was pleased that she noticed such things. A real mountain girl now.

He unlocked the cabin, entered slowly as if he might disturb something, and looked around. They placed the cooler in the small kitchen and the backpacks on a sofa. “Are those cameras still out there?” she asked.

“Yes, and we just triggered them.”

“Any trespassers lately?”

“Not that I know of.”

“When’s the last time you were here?”

“It’s been a long time. Too much traffic raises suspicions. Let’s check the creek.”

They walked over some rocks at the edge of the stream. Jeff said it was too low for the kayaks. Instead, they followed it deep into the hillsides, far away from the cabin and any land owned by his family. Though she wasn’t sure, she thought they were going west, away from Gray Mountain. With the ground covered in snow, it was impossible to find trails, not that they were needed. Jeff, like his brother, moved through the terrain as if he walked it daily. They began a climb that grew steeper, and at one point stopped for water and a granola bar. He explained that they were on Chock Ridge, a long steep hill that was thick with coal and owned by people who would never sell. The Cosgrove family, from Knox. Donovan and Jeff had grown up with the Cosgrove kids. Good folks and so on. They climbed another five hundred feet and crested the ridge. In the distance, Jeff pointed out Gray Mountain. Even covered with a white blanket it looked bare, desolate, violated.