Gray Mountain: A Novel(85)

“And what if I don’t sign it?”

Samantha had not anticipated this, and, knowing so little about federal procedure, she wasn’t sure of her answer, but a quick response was needed nonetheless. “If the case is not pushed by you, the plaintiff, then it will eventually be dismissed by the court.”

“So either way, it’s dead?” Buddy asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’m not quitting. I’ll not sign it.”

Mavis blurted, “Why don’t you take the case? You’re a lawyer.” Both eyed her intently, and it was obvious the question had been kicked around at length.

This, Samantha had anticipated. She replied, “Yes, but I am not experienced in federal court and I’m not licensed in Kentucky.” They absorbed this without comment, and without really understanding it. A lawyer is a lawyer, right?

Mavis shifted gears with “Now, on this black lung claim, you said you were gonna calculate all the back benefits we’re entitled to. And you said that if we win the case, we get to go back to the day we first filed the claim, some nine years ago. Is that right?”

“That’s correct,” Samantha said, shuffling for some notes. “And according to our numbers, it’s about $85,000.”

“That’s not much money,” Buddy said in disgust, as if the paltry sum could be blamed on Samantha. He drew in mightily and continued, “They ought to pay more, a helluva lot more after what they done. I should’ve quit working in the mines ten years ago when I got sick, and I would have if I’d had the benefits. But no, hell no, I had to keep working and keep breathing the dust.”

“Just got sicker and sicker,” Mavis added gravely.

“Now I won’t be able to work another year, two at max. And if we ever get ’em in court they’ll be liable for almost nothing. It ain’t right.”

“I agree,” Samantha said. “But we’ve had this conversation, Buddy, and more than once.”

“That’s why I want to sue them bastards in federal court.”

“Your language, Buddy,”

“I’ll cuss if I want to, dammit Mavis.”

“Look, I need to be going,” Samantha said, reaching for her briefcase. “I wish you would reconsider your decision not to sign this dismissal.”

“I’m not quitting,” Buddy said, gasping.

“Fine, but I’m not driving over here again for this. Understood?”

He just nodded. Mavis walked out with her, leaving Buddy behind for a few moments. At the car, Mavis said, “Thank you so much, Samantha. We are grateful. We went years without a lawyer, and now it’s comforting to know we have one. He’s dying and he knows it, so he has some bad days when he’s not too pleasant.”

“I understand.”


At the ancient Conoco station, Samantha stopped for gas and, hopefully, a drinkable cup of coffee. A few vehicles were parked to the side of the building, all with West Virginia license plates, and none of which she recognized. Jeff had told her to be more aware, to watch every car and truck, notice every license plate, look at faces without staring, and listen to voices while appearing uninterested. Assume someone is always watching, he had warned, but she found it difficult to accept.

“They believe we have something they desperately want,” he had said. The “we” part still troubled her. She didn’t recall joining anyone’s team. As she stared at the pump, she saw a man enter the store, though she had not noticed another vehicle arrive in the past few minutes.

Bozo was back. She paid with a credit card at the pump and could have sped away, but she needed confirmation. She entered through the front door and said good morning to the clerk at the register. Several old men were sitting in rockers around a potbellied stove and none seemed to notice her. A few more steps and she was in the tiny café, which was nothing but a cheap add-on with a dozen tables adorned with checkered cloth. Five people were eating, sipping coffee, and talking.

He was seated at the counter, staring at the grill, where a cook was frying bacon. She couldn’t see his face and didn’t want a scene, and for a second she stood awkwardly in the middle of the café, uncertain. She caught a glance or two and decided to leave. She drove back into Madison and stopped at a convenience store where she bought a road map. Her leased Ford had a GPS but she had not bothered to program it. She needed directions fast.

Half an hour later, as she drifted along a county road somewhere in Lawrence County, Kentucky, her new cell phone finally found enough service for a call. Jeff answered after four rings. She calmly explained what was happening, and he made her repeat everything in slow motion.

“He wanted you to see him,” Jeff said. “Why else would he risk being seen? It’s not an unusual tactic. He knows you’re not going to punch him or anything, so he just delivers a not so subtle message.”

“Which is?”

“We’re watching. We can always find you. You’re hanging around with the wrong people and you might get hurt.”

“Okay, I got the message. Now what?”

“Nothing. Just keep your eyes open and see if he’s waiting when you get back to Brady.”

“I don’t want to go back to Brady.”

“Sorry.”

“Where are you?”