Gray Mountain: A Novel(117)

The family remained by the grave site until the casket was lowered. It was dark and supper was well under way when Mavis and her children entered the fellowship hall. They were given a preferred table in a corner and plates of food were taken to them. When Mavis saw Samantha and Mattie, she waved them over and insisted they sit with the family.

A piano played softly in the background and supper dragged on. As people began leaving, they stopped by for one last word with Mavis, who hadn’t touched her food. She still cried off and on, but there were some smiles now, even a laugh when someone recalled a funny story about Buddy.

Samantha was tinkering with a wedge of some variety of red cake, trying to nibble just enough to be polite while trying to avoid it altogether, when Keely, the thirteen-year-old, eased into the chair next to her. She had short auburn hair and plenty of freckles, and her little eyes were red and swollen from the ordeal. She managed a smile, a gap-toothed grin more fitting for a ten-year-old. “My daddy liked you a lot,” she said.

Samantha hesitated for a second and said, “He was a very nice man.”

“Will you hold my hand?” she asked, reaching. Samantha took it and smiled at her. Everyone else at the table was either talking or eating. Keely said, “My daddy said you were the only lawyer brave enough to fight the coal companies.”

Almost tongue-tied, Samantha managed to reply, “Well, that was very nice of him to say, but there are other good lawyers.”

“Yes ma’am, but my daddy liked you the most. He said he hoped you didn’t go back to New York. He said if he’d found you ten years ago, we wouldn’t be in such a mess.”

“Again, that was very nice of him.”

“You’re gonna stay and help us, aren’t you, Miss Sam?” She was squeezing even harder, as if she could physically keep Samantha close by for protection.

“I’ll stay as long as I can.”

“You gotta help us, Miss Sam. You’re the only lawyer who’ll help us, at least that’s what my daddy said.”





39


A heavy, midweek rain drained into the rivers and streams of Curry County, and Yellow Creek was high enough for kayaking. It was warm for mid-January, and Samantha and Jeff spent most of Saturday afternoon racing up and down the creek in dueling kayaks, dodging boulders, floating on the still waters, and avoiding any mishaps. They built a fire on a sandbar and cooked hot dogs for a late lunch. Around 4:00 p.m., Jeff thought they should head for the cabin, which was about half a mile away upstream. By the time they arrived they were exhausted. Wasting no time, Jeff grabbed three backpacks and a rifle. He said, “Give me thirty minutes,” and disappeared toward Gray Mountain.

Samantha put a log on the fire and decided to wait on the porch. She took a quilt outside, settled under it, and tried to read a novel. She watched two deer ease into the shallow water of the creek and take a drink. They left and vanished into the woods.

If everything went as planned, she and Jeff would leave after sunset. In the Jeep—Donovan’s Jeep Cherokee—they would have in their possession all of the remaining Krull Mining documents. Jeff estimated their weight at about a hundred pounds. They would take them to a location he had yet to disclose. The less he told her, the less complicit she would be. Right? She wasn’t so sure. He had promised she would not touch the documents, and hopefully not even see them. If somehow they got caught, now or later, he would take all the blame. She was reluctant to help, but she was also eager to close this complicated chapter of her life and move on.

Two rifle shots suddenly rang out, and she jumped out of her skin. Then two more! They were coming from just over the ridge, from Gray Mountain. She stood on the porch and looked in that direction. One more shot, for a total of five, and then nothing but silence. She could hear her heart pounding, but other than that there was complete silence. Five minutes passed, then ten. Fifteen. She was holding her cell phone but there was no service.

Minutes later Jeff emerged from the woods, not on the trail, but from the dense forest. He was walking as fast as possible as he lugged the three backpacks. She ran to meet him and took one of them. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said, then was silent as they tossed the backpacks onto the porch. He sat on the front steps, breathing heavily, almost heaving. She handed him a bottle of water and asked, “What happened?”

He slurped the water and poured some over his face. “As I was coming out of the cave, I saw two goons, both with rifles. They had followed me, then I guess they got turned around. I made a noise. They turned and fired, both missed. I hit one in the leg and scared the other one.”

“You shot someone!”

“Damned right I shot someone. When they have guns it’s best to hit them before they hit you. I think he’s okay, not that I care. He screamed and his buddy was dragging him away last I saw.” He gulped the water as his breathing settled down. “They’ll be back. I’ll bet they’ve called for help and more thugs are on the way.”

“What are we going to do?”

“We’re getting out of here. They were too close to the cave and they might have seen me go in. I can get it all in one more load.”

“It’s getting dark, Jeff. You can’t go back there.”

He didn’t hear anything but mumbled, “We gotta work fast.” He jumped to his feet, grabbed two of the backpacks and pointed to the third. “Get that one.” Inside, they unzipped them, carefully removed stacks of paper and placed the loot on the kitchen table. Two empty picnic coolers had been sitting suspiciously in a corner since Samantha’s first visit. He pulled them over and opened them. From the inside pocket of his vest he produced a black pistol and laid it on the table. He grabbed her shoulders and said, “Listen to me, Samantha, as soon as I leave, place the documents into these coolers. There’s a roll of cargo tape inside, make sure they’re sealed tightly. I’ll be back in about an hour.”