Дэвид Балдаччи - Wish You Well

“ ’Cause the man who gimme it said it was. And he ain’t ask for not a durn thing. And man ain’t even know my name was Diamond. So there,” he added indignantly, seeing the disbelief on Lou’s features. He took the coal lump back from Oz. “I chip me off a little piece ever day. And one time I gonna tap it and there it’ll be, the biggest, purtiest diamond anybody’s ever saw.”

Oz eyed the rock with the reverence he usually reserved for grown-ups and church. “Then what will you do with it?”

Diamond shrugged. “Ain’t sure. Mebbe nothing. Mebbe keep it right up here. Mebbe give it to you. You like that?”

“If there is a diamond in there, you could sell it for a lot of money,” Lou pointed out.

Diamond rubbed at his nose. “Ain’t need no money. Got me all I need right here on this mountain.”

“Have you ever been off this mountain?” Lou asked.

He stared at her, obviously offended. “What, you think I’a hick or somethin’? Gone on down to McKenzie’s near the bridge lots of times. And over to Tremont.”

Lou looked out over the woods below. “How about Dickens? You ever been there?”

“Dickens?” Diamond almost fell out of the tree. “Take a day to walk it. ’Sides, why’d a body want’a go there?”

“Because it’s different than here. Because I’m tired of dirt and mules and manure and hauling water,” said Lou. She patted her pocket. “And because I’ve got twenty dollars I brought with me from New York that’s burning a hole in my pocket,” she added, staring at him.

This gigantic sum staggered Diamond, yet even he seemed to understand the possibilities. “Too fer to walk,” he said, fingering the coal lump, as though trying to hurry the diamond into hatching.

“Then we don’t walk,” replied Lou.

He glanced at her. “Tremont right closer.”

“No, Dickens. I want to go to Dickens.”

Oz said, “We could take a taxi.”

“If we get to the bridge at McKenzie’s,” Lou ventured, “then maybe we can hitch a ride to Dickens with somebody. How far is the bridge on foot?”

Diamond considered this. “Well, by road it a good four hour. Time git down there, got to come back. And that be a tiring way to spend a day off from farming.”

“What way is there other than the road?”

“You really want’a get on down there?” he said.

Lou took a deep breath. “I really want to, Diamond.”

“Well, then, we going. I knowed me a shortcut. Shoot, get us there quick as a sneeze.”

Since the mountains had been formed, water had continued eroding the soft limestone, carving thousand-foot-deep gullies between the harder rocks. The line of finger ridges marched next to the three of them as they walked along. The ravine they finally came to was wide and seemed impassable until Diamond led them over to the tree. The yellow poplars here grew to immense proportion, gauged by a caliper measured in feet instead of inches. Many were thicker than a man was tall, and rose up to a hundred and fifty feet in height. Fifteen thousand board feet of lumber could be gotten from a single poplar. A healthy specimen lay across this gap, forming a bridge.

“Going ’cross here cuts the trip way down,” Diamond said.

Oz looked over the edge, saw nothing but rock and water at the end of a long fall, and backed away like a spooked cow. Even Lou looked uncertain. But Diamond walked right up to the log.

“Ain’t no problem. Thick and wide. Shoot, walk ’cross with your eyes closed. Come on now.”

He made his way across, never once looking down. Jeb scooted easily after him. Diamond reached safe ground and looked back. “Come on now,” he said again.

Lou put one foot up on the poplar but didn’t take another step.

Diamond called out from across the chasm. “Just don’t look down. Easy.”

Lou turned to her brother. “You stay here, Oz. Let me make sure it’s okay.” Lou clenched her fists, stepped onto the log, and started across. She kept her eyes leveled on nothing but Diamond and soon joined him on the other side. They looked back at Oz. He made no move toward the log, his gaze fixed on the dirt.

“You go on ahead, Diamond. I’ll go back with him.”

“No, we ain’t gonna do that. You said you want’a go to town? Well, dang it, we going to town.”

“I’m not going without Oz.”

“Ain’t got to.”

Diamond jogged back across the poplar bridge after telling Jeb to stay put. He got Oz to climb on his back and Lou watched in admiration as Diamond carried him across.

“You sure are strong, Diamond,” said Oz as he gingerly slid down to the ground with a relieved breath.

“Shoot, that ain’t nuthin’. Bear chased me ’cross that tree one time and I had Jeb and a sack of flour on my back. And it were nighttime too. And the rain was pouring so hard God must’ve been bawling ’bout somethin’. Couldn’t see a durn thing. Why, I almost fell twice.”

“Well, good Lord,” said Oz.

Lou hid her smile well. “What happened to the bear?” she asked in seemingly honest excitement.

“Missed me and landed in the water, and that durn thing never bothered me no mo’.”

“Let’s go to town, Diamond,” she said, pulling on his arm, “before that bear comes back.”

They crossed one more bridge of sorts, a swinging one made from rope and cedar slats with holes bored in them so the hemp could be pulled through and then knotted. Diamond told them that pirates, colonial settlers, and later on, Confederate refugees had made the old bridge and added to it at various points in time. And Diamond said he knew where they were all buried, but had been sworn to secrecy by a person he wouldn’t name.

They made their way down slopes so steep they had to hang on to trees, vines, and each other to stop from tumbling down head-first. Lou stopped every once in a while to gaze out as she clutched a sapling for support. It was something to stand on steep ground and look out at land of even greater angles. When the land became flatter and Oz grew tired, Lou and Diamond took turns carrying him.

At the bottom of the mountain, they were confronted with another obstacle. The idling coal train was at least a hundred cars long, and it blocked the way as far as they could see in either direction. Unlike those of a passenger train, the coal train’s cars were too close together to step between. Diamond picked up a rock and hurled it at one of the cars. It struck right at the name emblazoned across it: Southern Valley Coal and Gas.

“Now what?” said Lou. “Climb over?” She looked at the fully loaded cars and the few handholds, and wondered how that would be possible.

“Shoot naw,” said Diamond. “Unner.” He stuck his hat in his pocket, dropped to his belly, and slid between the car wheels and under the train. Lou and Oz quickly followed, as did Jeb. They all emerged on the other side and dusted themselves off.

“Boy got hisself cut in half last year doing that very thing,” said Diamond. “Train start up when he were unner it. Now, I ain’t see it, but I hear it were surely not purty.”

“Why didn’t you tell us that before we crawled under the train?” demanded a stunned Lou.

“Well, if I’d done that, you ain’t never crawled unner, now would you?”

On the main road they caught a ride in a Ramsey Candy truck and each was given a Blue Banner chocolate bar by the chubby, uniformed driver. “Spread the word,” he told them. “Good stuff.”

“Sure will,” said Diamond as he bit into the candy. He chewed slowly, methodically, as though suddenly a connoisseur of fine chocolate testing a fresh batch. “You give me ’nuther one and I get the word out twice as fast, mister.”