David Dun: At The Edge

"Well"-he tried a chuckle-"here's what you came for." He shoved the briefcase with his foot.

"I just want to say how much we appreciate what you're doing." She paused as if such expressions did not come easy to her.

"All for the cause," he replied as she took a seat. "Will you have something to drink before I walk you to the bank?''

"Iced tea would be good."

The waitress came through the murk to their dark corner. Dan ordered two iced teas, then changed his mind, called her back, and ordered a beer as well. What the hell, he might as well enjoy himself.

"I would love to tell you about our work, if you have a minute."

He responded by nodding, knowing that it would be safer to take her and the money to the bank.

"My work is the wilderness…"

Thinking Dan a city man, Maria gave him a verbal slide-show, enriched by Dan's own memories of exploring the mountains with his grandfather: an August moon, heavy and round like an ancient, knowing face, looking down on silhouetted peaks shouldered by jagged, granite ledges spilling down into the shadows above a river. There were rocky crags, crystalline waterfalls, and miles of white-water rapids, enormous gorges carved by the river, rock walls covered with mosses, lichen, and ferns.

Dan studied Maria as she spoke, not hearing every word.

The waitress came by, and Maria paused until she left.

"Are you part of the movement?" she asked without warning.

"Oh, I'm not much a part of anything."

"You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to." The sincerity in her eyes felt like a weight on his chest.

"I'm a nameless courier, in a darkened tavern, secretly passing cash in a briefcase."

"I wonder, could I ask you to sit forward a little? I just can't see you back in that corner."

He couldn't help but smile as he leaned forward.

"Well, I'll be… Dan Young. You shaved your mustache."

"Tell me something I don't know." He chuckled.

"Oh and what could I possibly say to you, short of you giving me lots of money, which you are. I can't believe this. I'm speechless."

"Doesn't sound that way to me," he said.

"Now I feel completely stupid dressing up this way. Why are you doing this?"

"I'm only a lawyer, just like you. They didn't ask me what I thought."

"Why'd they send you?"

"Nice smile?"

"This isn't a joke, is it?"

"The briefcase is full."

"So what do you want?"

"To give you the money, get a little info."

''Info? This"-she gestured at the briefcase-''is to help us get the Highlands Forest designated as a park. Lobbyists and court battles cost a fortune. Patty McCafferty and I and a lot of others are determined to save it."

"Well, I know that." Dan had watched Patty McCafferty speak in a voice that transformed her words into religion for the faithful. Maria Fischer's voice was a lesser instrument of that same fervor-a more interesting voice.

"So how do you feel about helping our cause?"

She waited for his response. He took the last gulp of his beer and contemplated the iced tea.

"You want my views on another forest preserve?"

"Well, maybe not."

"Let's talk about it sometime when we don't have to go to the bank."

''I know I'm not supposed to ask. But why all the secrecy? Why doesn't whoever it is just write a check for such a huge amount and take credit? Not to mention the risk of loss. Isn't it just crazy to carry around cash?"

"I guess I don't know, really."

The waitress asked if they'd like something more to drink.

"You?" he asked Maria.

"Thanks, no."

"I don't care for anything, thank you. Just the check."

"It is an individual donor, right?"

"You don't give up easily."

"Well, maybe you guys regularly sneak around with cash paying people, but we don't."

"I could take it back. Tell them you don't want it."

"Yeah, right."

"Tell me," he said. "What drives you to save an old-growth forest?''

"It's still there. It's part of where we came from and what ties us to our past."

"No. I don't mean that. What created this fire in your belly?"

"That's a bigger subject than a beer and a bowl of chips. Listen, I know we said we'd both go to the bank, but I can handle it from here. The bank is just down the street."

"You think that's a good idea?"

"Nobody knows what's in here. It's just a briefcase. And I don't really want to be seen with you."

"Ouch."

"It's nothing personal."

He gave her the I-don't-believe-you look with a little smile. "So would you meet me again in a dark corner?"

"You get us another half million and we'll talk about it."

Of course before she knew the courier was Dan Young, she had had many reasons to impress the man; she was talking to a big donor, after all, or at least the donor's representative, and the coalition desperately needed the money. But when she first saw him, there was more. She had felt him looking at her; he had seemed attuned to every detail of what she was saying-then again, maybe it wasn't what she was saying.

Aside from the fact that she hated his politics, Dan Young had always seemed to possess some quality that she found attractive. He was wide-shouldered and had the quiet confidence of someone who knew exactly what he was about. But he didn't quite swagger, although like all cowboy types he tortured animals, ate meat, did what his kind usually did. She wasn't quite sure what made him interesting.

Once at a county fair, before Dan's wife had died, Maria had been working a booth devoted to registering Democrat voters. She'd taken a break, gotten some hot tea, and moved to the back of the booth where she watched the people passing by. Not thirty feet away, Dan Young had been standing around with an odd mix of professionals and a few cowboys, but he looked more like the cowboys even if his jeans were a little new, his heavy blue work shirt laundered and starched.

Because he was Otran's lawyer and represented industry, she had been curious about him. But it struck her that unlike the other men in the group he had no roll of flab above the oversize belt buckle. Remarkable for a guy who had to sit in a chair hours on end. He was tall, she guessed 6'5" in boots, maybe 6'4" in his bare feet. Blond, obviously blue-eyed, he tended to half-smile under his bushy mustache and concentrate on whoever was talking, periodically shifting his weight from one foot to the other while he listened.

He had big hands and used them when he spoke. There was an earnestness about him that made people listen although he seemed to stay silent more than speak.

There was a dimple in his chin, and he had eyebrows that looked like they got regularly trimmed, and over the right brow was a faded scar. As she watched, the group of men had become more animated, one of them obviously trying to tease Dan.

Dan smiled at the fellow poking him in the shoulder, adjusted his hat, and walked away over to the far side of the arena where the bull riders were coming out of the chute.

"Hey, man, we were only kidding. Those big fuckers will kill you. Come on back here," one of the men called out.

In a few minutes Dan Young was riding a bull. Everybody had heard about Dan-he had grown up riding everything on four legs-but when he jumped off the bull, a woman and a boy came running toward the arena. By the way the woman approached Dan, Maria could tell it was family. He tried to put his arm around her, but she shrugged it off and squared off to him, holding the boy on her hip. It was obviously his wife, and Maria was guessing that she hadn't been consulted about the day's adventure.

Maria had watched as the woman cut loose a verbal barrage. But when she was in his face, he sobered. Without hearing a word, she suspected that the woman was reminding him that he had a son, a family, and responsibilities. A trip to the hospital was not what their little family needed. The look on his face, the honest appraisal of what he was being told, gave Maria some information.