Redemption Mountain (22 page)

“Um, Monday?” She hesitated. Natty knew she'd made a mistake, and now she was stuck. She hadn't meant to invite Charlie Burden to go running.
What was she thinking?

“I'll watch for you from the porch around six-thirty, and I'll meet you in front of the store. Don't worry, I won't hold you up too much,” Charlie added with a laugh.

Natty couldn't find a polite way out. “Sure, we could do that. I'll look for you on Monday.”

Once they were inside the gate, Natty conceded that it made more sense to let Charlie drive her home than for her to call for a ride. She was mesmerized by all the lights and gauges on the Lexus's dashboard, the soft leather seats, and the feeling of quiet luxury in the car. She'd never ridden in a car so new or so expensive.

Charlie drove slowly on the dark, narrow access road through the woods and out to South County Road. When they approached the intersection, Natty said, “Take a right here, and go about a half mile—”

Charlie suddenly stopped the car in the middle of the road and pulled on the emergency brake. He left the engine running, opened the driver's door, and got out and instructed Natty to get out, too.

“What are you going to do now, kill me?” she asked.

Charlie laughed. “No. I'm going to finish my run, and you're going to take my car until you get yours fixed,” he said, stuffing his wallet and keys into a Velcro fanny pack.

“No, c'mon, I can't do this,” Natty protested.

“You need a car tomorrow; I don't,” Charlie replied.

“But I can't drive this. Please, Mr. Burden, I don't—”

“It's just like a Honda. Put it in gear and go. Don't worry about it. I'll see you Monday.” He loped off at an easy gait and disappeared into the dark.

Natty glanced at her watch. It was past nine o'clock. She walked around the car, got into the driver's seat, and shut the door. It took her a few seconds to figure out how to use the electric seat adjustment so she could reach the pedals. She pulled the steering wheel down to a comfortable position, then played with the accelerator to get a feeling for the smooth, powerful engine. As she looked over the gauges and the luxurious interior, she bit her lower lip. How the hell was she going to explain this one to Buck? she wondered, as she shifted into drive and headed west toward Oakes Hollow.

 

CHAPTER 13

 

O
ver the weekend a late-summer heat wave had settled over the mountains like a blanket. The air conditioners in the administration building hummed at full power at nine o'clock in the morning. Charlie would spend a couple of hours reading and answering his emails, as he usually did on Monday mornings. He opened a message from Ellen. Her realtor had called to tell her that the owner of the Dowling Farms house had lowered the price and that there was some new interest, so they would need to make a decision soon. Ellen added that Jennifer would be home from Evanston the last week of the month and would head back to school on Labor Day weekend, so she hoped Charlie could get back to Mamaroneck for a few days.

Charlie knew that Ellen would be pushing hard to close the deal when he went home. He skipped over a dozen messages from the New York office that he knew would involve inquiries about the projects that he'd been working on before leaving for West Virginia. Then he opened a message entitled
Redemption Mountain,
from Larry Tuthill.

It said that Vernon Yarbrough and Kevin Mulrooney from Ackerly Coal would arrive by helicopter on Thursday morning to accompany C. Burden to a meeting with B. DeWitt to reach an agreement on the purchase of the Redemption Mountain farm. It was followed with the notation,
This is a highest-priority meeting.
Charlie replied to all that he would be available to attend the meeting.

After a few more emails, his mind drifted back to earlier that morning and his exhilarating run along the side of Red Bone Mountain with Natty Oakes. It was an experience he couldn't wait to repeat.

Charlie had been stretching in front of the store as Natty rounded the corner. “Morning, Mr. Burden,” she said, without slowing down. Charlie noticed that she didn't seem to be breathing overly hard from the run uphill.

“Good morning, Mrs. Oakes,” Charlie replied, as he fell in beside her. He found the pace a little quick for five miles.

“How's your car?” asked Charlie.

“I got rid of it.” Natty had a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I don't need it anymore. Got a new Lexus,” she added, smiling at Charlie. “It'll be ready tomorrow. Is that okay?”
The car would be ready, but how she'd handle the $580 bill at Gus Lowe's garage was another story.

“That's fine,” said Charlie, as Natty veered right and headed for a field of high weeds and scrub bushes.

“Come on. I'll show you what heaven is like for a runner,” she said, turning her head back toward Charlie. He followed her up a narrow dirt path across the small field, over a set of railroad tracks, and into the woods. They ran single file for a hundred yards until suddenly the tree line ended, revealing a spectacular view of the rugged southern slope of Red Bone Mountain.

The view was breathtaking, as was the sheer drop-off just a few yards from the trail's edge. Natty looked back to catch Charlie's reaction. “Great, isn't it?” she called back, partially to alleviate his anxiety.

“It's beautiful,” he answered.

“The trail's fine, but you have to watch your step in a few places. Just follow me.”

“I'm right behind you,” replied Charlie, a little nervously. But the trail quickly leveled out, alternating between peaceful glides through dark woods and thrilling jaunts along the edge of rocky precipices. He was awestruck at every turn, stunned that such a manageable course could be found along the side of a mountain, taking them right up to the edge of such a remote and breathtaking landscape.

Charlie also took the opportunity to study Natty Oakes. He wondered if she owned any clothing of her own. She wore a pair of oversize khaki work shorts that hung down to her knees and a navy-blue man's golf shirt that hung down past her thighs.

Yet beneath the camouflage of the ill-fitting clothing, Natty Oakes moved with the economy and grace of a thoroughbred. Whether going uphill or down, her slender legs maintained a long, powerful stride. Charlie could discern the broad shoulders, straight back, and narrow hips of a natural athlete beneath the large shirt and baggy shorts.

At the midpoint of the trail, Natty glanced up at the large boulder jutting out a hundred feet above them. They ran past the entrance to the steep goat path that went up to her special place. It would have been a wonderful morning to lie on the rock for a few minutes, but she wouldn't be visiting her spot today, not with this man she hardly knew.

A mile past the boulder, they reentered thick woods. Natty led them through a stand of tall pines, where their footfalls seemed to echo in the stillness of the forest and the sound of their rhythmic breathing was amplified. Just as Charlie's lungs were screaming for a rest, Natty slowed her pace to a walk, then stopped in the middle of the path. Charlie came up beside her, breathing heavily, and started to speak. She quickly put a finger to her lips and pointed down the path with her other hand.

Charlie stood with his hands on his hips, breathing deeply, and spotted the deer—a good-size buck—not twenty yards away. It walked slowly but confidently out of the trees and across the path, immediately followed by a doe and then three fawns. They moved through the trees like smoke, with hardly a sound, and in a few moments they were gone from sight. Natty started walking down the trail again.

“See a lot of deer around here this time of year,” she said. “Then, in the fall, my husband and his brothers come up here and bow-hunt 'em.”

“Your husband likes to hunt?” asked Charlie.

“
Lives
to hunt is more like it. Been doing it his whole life.” Natty turned to Charlie. His face was flushed, with sweat dripping down his forehead. She smiled at him. “You okay, Mr. Burden?”

“I'm fine,” he answered, thankful that they were still walking. “We almost done?”

Natty laughed. “Well, I am, but you still got the hardest part ahead of you, running back up to Old Red Bone.” She walked to the edge of the path and stopped. “This is where I get off.” She pointed down a hill that was covered with rugged outcroppings, a few thin stands of birch trees, and thick, short bushes. “This is the top of Oakes Hollow. I live down there.” Charlie came over to her side of the trail and looked downhill. He could see the top of a house about a hundred yards away and, farther down, two smaller houses and two trailers.

“Keep going down the trail a little ways, and you'll come to a dirt road. Go right, and it'll take you down to South County Road. Then you got a nice run ahead of you, back up to Main Street.” She glanced at her small watch. “I got to go,” she said, as she stepped off the trail onto a narrow path hidden by overgrown bushes. Charlie watched her disappear, then reappear briefly a little ways down the hill.

“Hey,” he called out. “Thank you. Thanks for showing me your trail. It's beautiful.” She smiled back at him and waved. “Will you be running tomorrow?” Charlie asked.

Natty smiled at him. “I run every day,” she said, then dropped out of sight as the path went behind a large rock formation.

*   *   *

A
FTER SEVERAL HOURS
on the computer, Charlie was interrupted by a rap on his open office door. He looked up to see one of the young subcontractors who'd been working in the main computer room. “Some guy wants to see you. Old guy, says his name's Nickerson, or Hankerson, or something.”

“Hankinson,” Charlie corrected him. “Send him in.” Charlie and Hank had played cribbage several times since Hank had duped him about the planning board, but Charlie hadn't let on that he knew Hank was on the board. He was waiting for the right occasion.

Hank wore a brown suit and a white dress shirt that had long ago turned a pale yellow from years of starching. His white hair was pulled back, tied in a short ponytail. Under his arm, he carried an ancient-looking accordion file, tied shut with black string.

“Morning, Hank,” Charlie said, looking up from his computer.

“Burden,” Hank answered, looking around the tiny office. He put the file down on the edge of the desk and sat facing Charlie.

“So, what are you up to today, Hank?” Charlie asked.

“Working,” stated Hank flatly.

“Working? On what?”

“We need to take a look at what plans you got to move that cooling pond of yours.”

“Cooling pond?” Charlie tried his best to look puzzled. “Oh, yeah, moving the cooling pond. It's not a problem anymore. We decided to go ahead and keep the pond where it is.” Charlie leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head. “After you told me about those guys on the planning board, we did some research, and,
boy
, were you right. Miserable pricks, and that's about the nicest thing anyone had to say.” Charlie did his best to put a disgusted scowl on his face. “We asked around all over town, and everyone said the same thing: ‘
Forget about it,
those boys on the planning board are just too
stupid
and too
ignorant
to know what you're talking about. Plus, they're too belligerent and mean and disagreeable to reason with, and they're all pretty damn ugly to boot.' That's what they said. So we're just going to leave the pond where it is.” When he was done, Charlie folded his arms and stared across the desk at his neighbor.

After a ten-second staring contest, Hank's mustache moved, showing a smile growing under the thick whiskers. He reached out and slapped the desk with an open palm. “Ha! You got me, Burden,” Hank said with a loud laugh. “When'd you find out?”

“Company gave me a file on the planning board. Got your picture in it.”

Hankinson nodded as he mused over the fact that OntAmex had gone to the trouble of assembling information on the planning board. At least Charlie was good enough to tell him. “Let's go take a look at your cooling pond,” said Hank, rising out of his chair.

Charlie deliberated for a moment about the efficacy of meeting informally like this with the chairman of the planning board. He knew Yarbrough would have a problem with it.
What if Hank was looking for a payoff?
Charlie decided to trust his friend. He had a feeling that Hank was doing him a personal favor by coming to talk to him about the pond.

They took the Navigator out to the original site of the cooling pond, roughly in the middle of the development. They walked over the hard rock, laid bare in several wide expanses where the loose soil had eroded away. Charlie pointed out the proximity of the original pond site to the main building, fifty yards away. He explained how the shock of blasting would weaken the subfoundation of the main plant. Hank gave a knowing nod.

“You boys really fucked up here, didn't you?”

“We sure did, Hank,” Charlie answered, wondering if he should be admitting that to the planning-board chairman.

“Okay, let's go see where you want to move it to.” They drove up to the north end of the property, just inside the fence along Cold Springs Road. Charlie reached into the backseat, brought up a scrolled blueprint of the revised pond design, and gave it to Hank. The old man studied it carefully as they drove around the perimeter of the proposed new location.

When Charlie stopped, Hank continued to study the blueprint, occasionally squinting at some detail, then looking up to study the topography of the land. After ten minutes, he rolled up the plan and got out of the Navigator. He walked directly north toward the boundary fence and stopped where the land sloped down to Cold Springs Road. Then he walked along the edge of the hill parallel to the fence for a hundred yards and stood still for a few moments, visualizing the future pond.