Дэвид Балдаччи - Wish You Well

Coming down the mountain, Lou noted that there were fewer coal trucks, and that many of the mountainside tipples weren’t even being operated. When they passed Tremont, she saw that half the stores were boarded up, and there were few people on the streets, and Lou sensed it wasn’t just because of the chilly weather.

When they got to Dickens, Lou was shocked, for many stores were boarded up here as well, including the one Diamond had opened an umbrella in. Bad luck had reigned there after all, and it was no longer funny to Lou. Ill-clothed men sat on sidewalks and steps, staring at nothing. There weren’t many cars slant-parked, and shopkeepers stood, idle hands on hips, nervous looks on faces, in the doorways of their empty stores. The men and women walking the streets were very few in number, and their faces carried an anxious pallor. Lou watched as a bus filled with folks slowly headed out of town. An empty coal train symbolically crept behind the line of buildings and parallel to the main road. The “Coal Is King” banner was no longer flying mighty and proud across the street, and Miss Bituminous Coal of 1940 had probably fled as well, Lou imagined.

As they went along, Lou could see more than one group of people point at them and then talk among themselves.

“Those people don’t look very happy,” said Oz nervously, as they climbed out of Cotton’s Oldsmobile and looked across the street at another collection of men who were watching them closely. At the front of this mob was none other than George Davis.

“Come on, Oz,” said Cotton. “We’re here to see Louisa, that’s all.”

He led them into the hospital, where they learned from Travis Barnes that Louisa’s condition had not changed. Her eyes were wide open and glassy. Lou and Oz each held one of her hands, but she clearly did not know them. Lou would have thought she had already passed, except for her shallow breathing. She watched the rise and fall of that chest with the deepest intensity, praying with all her soul for it to keep rising, until Cotton told her it was time to go, and Lou was surprised to learn that an hour had passed.

When they walked back to the Oldsmobile, the men were waiting for them. George Davis had his hand on the door of Cotton’s car.

Cotton walked boldly up to them. “What can I do for you folks?” he inquired politely, even as he firmly removed Davis’s hand from the Olds.

“You get that fool woman in there sell her land, that what!” shouted Davis.

Cotton looked the men over. Other than Davis, they were all men from the town, not the mountain. But he knew that didn’t mean they were any less desperate than folks who tethered their survival to dirt, seed, and the fickleness of rain. These folks had just tied their hopes to coal. But coal was unlike corn; once plucked, coal didn’t grow back.

“I’ve already been over this with you, George, and the answer hasn’t changed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get these children home.”

“Whole town gone to hell,” said another man.

“And you think that’s Louisa’s fault?” asked Cotton.

“She dying. She ain’t need her land,” said Davis.

“She’s not dying!” said Oz.

“Cotton,” said a well-dressed man about fifty years old who, Cotton knew, ran the automobile dealership in Dickens. He had narrow shoulders, thin arms, and smooth palms that clearly showed he had never hoisted a hay bale, swung a scythe, or plowed a field. “I’m going to lose my business. I’m going to lose everything I’ve got if something doesn’t replace the coal. And I’m not the only one like that. Look around, we’re hurting bad.”

“What happens when the natural gas runs out?” countered Cotton. “Then what will you be looking for to save you?”

“Ain’t got to look that fer ahead. Take care of bizness now, and that bizness be gas,” said Davis in an angry voice. “We all git rich. I ain’t got no problem selling my place, hep my neighbor.”

“Really?” said Lou. “I didn’t see you at the barn raising, George. In fact you haven’t been back since Louisa ran you off. Unless you had something to do with our barn burning down in the first place.”

Davis spit, wiped his mouth, and hitched his britches, and would’ve no doubt throttled the girl right there if Cotton hadn’t been standing next to her.

“Lou,” said Cotton firmly, “that’s enough.”

“Cotton,” said the well-dressed man, “I can’t believe you’re abandoning us for some stupid mountain woman. Hell, you think you’ll have any lawyering to do if the town dies?”

Cotton smiled. “Don’t y’all worry about me. You’d be amazed at how little I can get by on. And regarding Miss Cardinal, y’all listen up, because it’s the last time I’m going to say it. She does not want to sell her land to Southern Valley. That’s her right, and y’all better damn well respect it. Now, if you really and truly can’t survive here without the gas folks, then I suggest you leave. Because you see, Miss Cardinal doesn’t have that problem. Every lick of coal and gas could disappear from this earth tomorrow, and electricity and phones too, and she’d be just fine.” He stared pointedly at the well-dressed man. “Now tell me, who’s the stupid one?”

Cotton told the children to climb in the car, and he eased himself into the driver’s seat, even as the men pushed forward a bit, crowding him. Several of them moved back and blocked the rear of the car. Cotton started the engine of the Olds, rolled down the window, and looked at them. “Now, the clutch on this thing is right peculiar. Sometimes it pops out and this old girl jumps about a country mile. Almost killed a man one time when it did that. Well, here goes. Look out now!”

He popped the clutch, and the Olds jumped backward, and so did all the men. The path cleared, Cotton backed out and they headed off. When the rock banged against the rumble seat of the car, Cotton pushed down on the accelerator and told Lou and Oz to get down and stay down. Several more rocks hit against the car, before they were safely out of range.

“What about Louisa?” asked Lou.

“She’ll be fine. Travis is most always around, and he’s a man not to be beat with a shotgun. And when he’s not there, his nurse is just about as fine a shot. And I warned the sheriff folks were getting a bit riled. They’ll keep close watch. But those people aren’t going to do anything to a helpless woman in a bed. They’re hurting, but they’re not like that.”

“Are they going to throw rocks at us every time we come to visit Louisa?” asked Oz fearfully.

Cotton put an arm around the boy. “Well, if they do, I suspect they’ll run out of rocks long before we run out of visits.”

When they got back to the farmhouse, an anxious-looking Eugene hurried out, a piece of paper in his hand.

“Man from the town come by with this, Mr. Cotton. I ain’t knowed what it is. He say give it to you quick.”

Cotton opened up the slip of paper and read it. It was a delinquent tax notice. He had forgotten Louisa had not paid her property taxes for the last three years because there had been no crops, and thus no money. The county had carried her over, as it did with all the other farmers in similar circumstances. They were expected to pay of course, but they were always given time. This notice, however, was demanding payment in full immediately. Two hundred dollars’ worth of payment. And since she had been in default for so long, they could foreclose and sell the land far more quickly than normal. Cotton could feel Southern Valley’s vicious stamp all over the paper.

“Is something wrong, Cotton?” asked Lou.

He looked at her and smiled. “I’ll take care of it, Lou. Just paperwork, honey.”