Дэвид Балдаччи - Wish You Well

They prepared for winter by sharpening tools with the grinder and rattail files, mucking out the stalls and spreading the manure over the plowed-under fields. Louisa had been wrong about that, though, for Lou never grew to love the smell of manure. They brought the livestock in, kept them fed and watered, milked the cows, and did their other chores, which now all seemed as natural as breathing. They carried jugs of milk and butter, and jars of mixed pickles in vinegar and brine, and canned sauerkraut and beans down to the partially underground dairy house, which had thick log walls, daubed and chinked, and paper stuffed where mud had fallen away. And they repaired everything on the farm that called for it.

School started, and, true to his father’s words, Billy Davis never came back. No mention was made of his absence, as though the boy had never existed. Lou found herself thinking of him from time to time, though, and hoped he was all right.

After chores were done one late fall evening, Louisa sent Lou and Oz down to the creek that ran on the south side of the property to fetch balls from the sycamore trees that grew in abundance there. The balls had sharp stickers, but Louisa told them they would be used for Christmas decorations. Christmas was still a ways off, but Lou and Oz did as they were told.

When they got back, they were surprised to see Cotton’s car in front. The house was dark and they cautiously opened the door, unsure of what they would find. The lights flew up as Louisa and Eugene took the black cloths from around the lanterns and they and Cotton called out “Happy Birthday,” in a most excited tone. And it was their birthday, both of them, for Lou and Oz had been born on the same day, five years apart, as Amanda had informed Louisa in one of her letters. Lou was officially a teenager now, and Oz had survived to the ripe old age of eight.

A wild-strawberry pie was on the table, along with cups of hot cider. Two small candles were in the pie and Oz and Lou together blew them out. Louisa pulled out the presents she had been working on all this time, on her Singer sewing machine: a Chop bag dress for Lou that was a pretty floral pattern of red and green, and a smart jacket, trousers, and white shirt for Oz that had been created from clothes Cotton had given her.

Eugene had carved two whistles for them that gave off different tunes, such that they could communicate when apart in the deep woods or across acres of field. The mountains would send an echo to the sun and back, Louisa told them. They gave their whistles a blast, which tickled their lips, making them giggle.

Cotton presented Lou with a book of poems by Walt Whitman. “My ancestor’s superior in the arena of the poem, if I may so humbly admit,” he said. And then he pulled from a box something that made Oz forget to breathe. The baseball mitts were things of beauty, well-oiled, worn to perfection, smelling of fine leather, sweat, and summer grass, and no doubt holding timeless and cherished childhood dreams. “They were mine growing up,” Cotton said. “But I’m embarrassed to admit that while I’m not that good of a lawyer, I’m a far better lawyer than I ever was a ballplayer. Two mitts, for you and Lou. And me too, if you’ll put up with my feeble athletic skills from time to time.”

Oz said he would be proud to, and he hugged the gloves tight to his chest. Then they ate heartily of the pie and drank down the cider. Afterward Oz put on his suit, which fit very nicely; he looked almost like a tiny lawyer. Louisa had wisely tucked extra material under the hems to allow for the boy’s growth, which seemed now to occur daily. So dressed, Oz took his baseball gloves and his whistle and went to show his mother. A little while later Lou heard strange sounds coming from Amanda’s bedroom. When she went to check, she saw Oz standing on a stool, a sheet around his shoulders, a baseball glove on his head like a crown, and brandishing a long stick.

“And the great Oz the brave, and not cowardly lion anymore, killed all the dragons and saved all the moms and they all lived happily ever after in Virginia.” He took off his crown of oiled leather and gave a series of sweeping bows. “Thank you, my loyal subjects, no trouble a’tall.”

Oz sat next to his mother, lifted a book off the nightstand, and opened it to a place marked by a slip of paper. “Okay, Mom,” said Oz, “this is the scary part, but just so you know, the witch doesn’t eat the children.” He inched close to her, draped one of her arms around his waist, and with big eyes started to read the scary part.

Lou went back to the kitchen, sat at the table in her Chop bag dress, which also well suited her, and read the brilliant words of Whitman by the glow of reliable kerosene. It became so late that Cotton stayed, and slept curled up in front of the coal fire. And another fine day had passed on the mountain.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Without either Louisa or Eugene knowing, Lou took a lantern and a match and she and Oz rode Sue down to the mine. Lou jumped down, but Oz sat on the horse and stared at the mouth of that cave as though it were the direct portal to hell. “I’m not going in there,” he declared.

“Then wait out here,” said his sister.

“Why do you want to go in there? After what happened to Diamond? The mountain might fall in on you. And I bet it’d hurt bad.”

“I want to know what the men Diamond saw were up to.”

Lou lit the lantern and went in. Oz waited near the entrance, pacing nervously, and then he ran in, quickly catching up to his sister.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Lou said.

“I thought you might get scared,” Oz answered, even as he clutched at her shirt.

They moved along, shivering from the cool air and their tender nerves. Lou looked around and saw what appeared to be new support beams along the walls and ceiling of the shaft. On the walls she also saw various markings in what looked to be white paint. A loud hissing sound reached out to them from up ahead.

“A snake?” asked Oz.

“If it is, it’s about the size of the Empire State Building. Come on.” They hurried ahead and the hissing sound grew louder with each step. They turned one corner, and the sound became even louder, like steam escaping. They cleared one more turn, ran forward, edged around a final bend in the rock, and stopped. The men wore hard hats and carried battery-powered lights, and their faces were covered with masks. In the floor of the mine was a hole, with a large metal pipe inserted in it. A machine that looked like a pump was attached by hoses to the pipe and was making the hissing sound they had heard. The masked men were standing around the hole, but didn’t see the children. Lou and Oz backed up slowly and then turned and ran. Right into Judd Wheeler. Then they dodged around him and kept right on running.

A minute later Lou and Oz burst out of the mine. Lou stopped next to Sue and scrambled on, but Oz, apparently unwilling to trust his survival to something as slow as a horse, flew by sister and mare like a rocket. Lou punched Sue in the ribs with her shoes and took off after her brother. She didn’t gain any ground on the boy, however, as Oz was suddenly faster than a car.

Cotton, Louisa, Lou, and Oz were having a powwow around the kitchen table.

“You crazy to go in that mine,” said Louisa angrily.

“Then we wouldn’t have seen those men,” replied Lou.

Louisa struggled with this and then said, “G’on now. Me and Cotton need to talk.”

After Lou and Oz left, she looked at Cotton.

“So what you think?” she asked.

“From how Lou described it, I think they were looking for natural gas instead of oil. And found it.”

“What should we do?”

“They’re on your property without your permission, and they know that we know. I think they’ll come to you.”