Wish You Well Part 20

"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."

"I ain't selling my land, Cotton."

Cotton shook his head. "No, what you can do is sell the mineral rights. And keep the land. And gas isn't like coal mining. They won't have to destroy the land."

She shook her head stubbornly. "Had us a good harvest. Don't need no help from n.o.body."

Cotton looked down and spoke slowly. "Louisa, I hope you outlive all of us. But the fact is, if those children come into the farm while they're still under age, it'd be right difficult for them to get along." He paused and then added quietly, "And Amanda may need special care."

Louisa nodded slightly at his words but said nothing.

Later, she watched Cotton drive off, while Oz and Lou playfully chased his convertible down the road, and Eugene diligently worked on some farm equipment. This was the sum total of Louisa's world. Everything seemed to move along smoothly, yet it was all very fragile, she well knew. The woman leaned against the door with a most weary face.

The Southern Valley men came the very next afternoon.

Louisa opened the door and Judd Wheeler stood there, and beside him was a little man with snake eyes and a slick smile, dressed in a well-cut three-piece suit.

"Miss Cardinal, my name's Judd Wheeler. I work for Southern Valley Coal and Gas. This is Hugh Miller, the vice president of Southern."

"And you want my natural gas?" she said bluntly.

"Yes, ma'am," replied Wheeler.

"Well, it's a right good thing my lawyer's here," she said, glancing at Cotton, who had come into the kitchen from Amanda's bedroom.

"Miss Cardinal," said Hugh Miller as they sat down, "I don't believe in beating around the bush. I understand that you've inherited some additional family responsibilities, and I know how trying that can be. So I am most happy to offer you ... a hundred thousand dollars for your property. And I've got the check, and the paperwork for you to sign, right here."

Louisa had never held more than five dollars cash money in her whole life, so "My goodness!" was all she could manage.

"Just so we all understand," Cotton said, "Louisa would just be selling the underlying mineral rights."

Miller smiled and shook his head. "I'm afraid for that kind of money, we expect to get the land too."

"I ain't gonna do that," said Louisa.

Cotton said, "Why can't she just convey the mineral rights? It's a common practice up here."

"We have big plans for her property. Gonna level the mountain, put in a good road system, and build an extraction, production, and s.h.i.+pping facility. And the longest durn pipeline anybody's seen outside of Texas. We've spent a while looking. This property is perfect. Don't see one negative."

Louisa scowled at him. " 'Cept I ain't selling it to you. You ain't scalping this land like you done everywhere else."

Miller leaned forward. "This area is dying, Miss Cardinal. Lumber gone. Mines closing. Folks losing their jobs. What good are the mountains unless you use them to help people? It's just rock and trees."

"I got me a deed to this land says I own it, but n.o.body really own the mountains. I just watching over 'em while I here. And they give me all I need."

Miller looked around. "All you need? Why, you don't even have electricity or phones up here. As a G.o.dfearing woman I'm sure you realize that our creator gave us brains so that we can take advantage of our surroundings. What's a mountain compared to people making a good living? Why, what you're doing is going against the Scriptures, I do believe."

Louisa stared at the little man and looked as though she might laugh. "G.o.d made these mountains so's they last forever. Yet he put us people here for just a little-bitty time. Now, what does that tell you?"

Miller looked exasperated. "Look here now, my company is looking to make a substantial investment in bringing this place back to life. How can you stand in the way of all that?"

Louisa stood. "Just like I always done. On my own two feet.

Cotton followed Miller and Wheeler to their car.

"Mr. Longfellow," said Miller, "you ought to talk your client into accepting our proposal."

Cotton shook his head. "Once Louisa Mae Cardinal makes up her mind, changing it is akin to trying to stop the sun from rising."

"Well, the sun goes down down every night too," said Miller. every night too," said Miller.

Cotton watched as the Southern Valley men drove off.

The small church was in a meadow a few miles from the Cardinal farm. It was built of rough-hewn timbers and had a small steeple, one modest window of ordinary gla.s.s, and an abundance of charm. It was time for a down-on-the-ground church service and supper, and Cotton had driven Lou, Oz, and Eugene. They called it down-on-the-ground, Cotton explained, because there were no tables or chairs, but only blankets, sheets, and canvas; one large picnic under the guise of churchgoing.

Lou had offered to stay home with her mother so Louisa could go, but the woman wouldn't hear of it. "I read me my Bible, I pray to my Lord, but I ain't needing to be sitting and singing with folks to prove my faith."

"Why should I go then?" Lou had asked.

" 'Cause after church is supper, and that food ain't to be beat, girl," Louisa answered with a smile.

Oz had on his suit, and Lou wore her Chop bag dress and thick brown stockings held up by rubber bands, while Eugene wore the hat Lou had given him and a clean s.h.i.+rt. There were a few other Negroes there, including one pet.i.te young woman with remarkable eyes and beautifully smooth skin with whom Eugene spent considerable time talking. Cotton explained that there were so few Negroes up this way, they didn't have a separate church. "And I'm right glad of that," he said. "Not usually that way down south, and in the towns the prejudice is surely there."

"We saw the 'Whites Only' sign in d.i.c.kens," said Lou.

"I'm sure you did," said Cotton. "But mountains are different. I'm not saying everybody up here is a saint, because they're surely not, but life is hard and folks just trying to get by. Doesn't leave much time to dwell on things they shouldn't dwell on in the first place." He pointed to the first row and said, "George Davis and a few others excepted, that is."

Lou looked on in shock at George Davis sitting in the front pew. He had on a suit of clean clothes, his hair was combed, and he had shaved. Lou had to grudgingly admit that he looked respectable. None of his family was with him, though. His head was bowed in prayer. Before the service started, Lou asked Cotton about this spectacle.

He said, "George Davis almost always comes to services, but he never stays for the meal. And he never brings his family because that's just the way he is. I would hope he comes and prays because he feels he has much to atone for. But I think he's just hedging his bets. A calculating man, he is."

Lou looked at Davis there praying like G.o.d was in his heart and home, while his family remained behind in rags and fear and would have starved except for the kindness of Louisa Cardinal. She could only shake her head. Then she said to Cotton, "Whatever you do, don't stand next to that man."

Cotton looked at her, puzzled. "Why not?"

"Lightning bolts," she answered.

For too many hours they listened to the circuit minister, their rumps worn sore by hard oak benches, their noses tickled by the scents of lye soap, lilac water, and grittier smells from those who had not bothered to wash before coming. Oz nodded off twice, and Lou had to kick him each time to rouse him. Cotton offered up a special prayer for Amanda, which Lou and Oz very much appreciated. However, it seemed they were all doomed to h.e.l.l according to this fleshy Baptist minister. Jesus had given his life for them, and a sorry lot they were, he said, himself included. Not good for much other than sinning and similar lax ways. Then the holy man really got going and reduced every human being in the place to near tears, or to at least the shakes, at their extreme uselessness and at the guilt dwelling in their awful sinned-out souls. And then he pa.s.sed the collection plate and asked very politely for the cold hard cash of all the fine folks there today, their awful sin and extreme uselessness notwithstanding.

After services they all headed outside. "My father's a pastor in Ma.s.sachusetts," said Cotton, as they walked down the church steps. "And he's also right partial to the fire and brimstone method of religion. One of his heroes was Cotton Mather, which is where I got my rather curious name. And I know that my father was greatly upset when I did not follow him on to the pulpit, but such is life. I had no great calling from the Lord, and didn't want to do the ministry any disservice just to please my father. Now, I'm no expert on the subject, yet a body does get weary of being dragged through the holy briar patch only to have his pocket regularly picked by a pious hand." Cotton smiled as he surveyed the folks gathering around the food. "But I guess it's a fair price to pay to sample some of these good vittles."

The food indeed was some of the best Lou and Oz had ever had: baked chicken, sugar-cured Virginia ham, collard greens and bacon, fluffy grits heaped with churned b.u.t.ter, fried crackling bread, vegetable ca.s.seroles, many-kind beans, and warm fruit pies-all no doubt created with the most sacred and closely guarded of family recipes. The children ate until they could eat no more, and then lay under a tree to rest.

Cotton was sitting on the church steps, working on a chicken leg and a cup of hot cider, and enjoying the peace of a good church supper, when the men approached. They were all farmers, with strong arms and blocky shoulders, a forward lean to all of them, their fingers curled tight, as though they were still working the hoe or scythe, toting buckets of water or pulling udder teats.

"Evening, Buford," said Cotton, inclining his head at one of the men who stepped forward from the pack, felt hat in hand. Cotton knew Buford Rose to be a toiler in dirt and seed of long standing here, and a good, decent man. His farm was small, but he ran it efficiently. He was not so old as Louisa, but he had said so long to middle age years ago. He made no move to talk, his gaze fixed on his crumbling brogans. Cotton looked at the other men, most of whom he knew from helping them with some gal problem, usually to do with their deeds, wills, or taxes. "Something on your minds?" he prompted.

Buford said, "Coal folk come by to see us all, Cotton. Talk 'bout the land. Selling it, that is."

"Hear they're offering good money," said Cotton.

Buford glanced nervously at his companions, his fingers digging into his hat brim. "Well, they ain't got that fer yet. See, thing is, they ain't a'wanting to buy our land 'less Louisa sell. Say it got to do with how the gas lie and all. I ain't unnerstand it none, but that what they say."

"Good crops this year," said Cotton. "Land generous to all. Maybe you don't need to sell."

"What 'bout next year?" said a man who was younger than Cotton but looked a good ten years older. He was a third-generation farmer up here, Cotton knew, and he didn't look all that happy about it right now. "One good year ain't make up fer three bad."

"Why ain't Louisa want'a sell, Cotton?" asked Buford. "She way older'n me even, and I done all worked out, and my boy he ain't want to do this no more. And she got them chillin, and the sick woman care for. Ain't make no sense to me she ain't partial to sell."

"This is her home, Buford. Just like it is yours. And it doesn't have to make sense to us. It's her wishes. We have to respect that."

"But can't you talk to her?"

"She's made up her mind. I'm sorry."

The men stared at him in silence, clearly not a single one of them pleased with this answer. Then they turned and walked away, leaving a very troubled Cotton Longfellow behind.

Oz had brought his ball and gloves to the church supper, and he threw with Lou and men with some of the other boys. The men gawked at his prowess and said O Oz had an arm like they had never seen before. Then Lo had an arm like they had never seen before. Then Lou happened upon a group of children talking about the death of Diamond Skinner. happened upon a group of children talking about the death of Diamond Skinner.

"Stupid as a mule, getting hisself blowed up like that," said one fat-cheeked boy Lou didn't know.

"Going in a mine with dynamite lit," said another. "Good Lord, what a fool."

"Course, he never went to school," said a girl with dark hair rolled in sausage curls who wore an expensive wide-brimmed hat with a ribbon around it and a frilly dress of similar cost. Lou knew her as Charlotte Ramsey, whose family didn't farm but owned one of the smaller coal mines, and did well with it. "So poor thing probably didn't know any better."

After listening to this, Lou pushed her way into the group. She had grown taller in the time she had been living on the mountain, and she towered over all of them, though they were all close in age to her.

"He went in that mine to save his dog," said Lou.

The fat-cheeked boy laughed. "Risk his life to save a hound. Boy was was dumb." dumb."

Lou's fist shot out, and the boy was on the ground holding one of those fat cheeks that had just grown a little plumper. Lou stalked away and kept right on walking.

Oz saw what had happened and he collected his ball and gloves and caught up with her. He said nothing but walked silently beside her, letting her anger cool, surely nothing new for him. The wind was picking up and the clouds were rolling in as a storm front cleared the mountain tops.

"Are we walking all the way home, Lou?"

"You can go back and ride with Cotton and Eugene if you want."

"You know, Lou, as smart as you are, you don't have keep hitting people. You can beat 'em with words." She glanced at him and couldn't help but smile at his comment. "Since when did you get so mature?"

Oz thought about this for a few moments. "Since I turned eight." They walked on. Oz had strung his gloves around his neck with a piece of twine, and he idly tossed the ball in the air and caught it behind his back. He tossed it again but did not catch it, and the ball dropped to the ground, forgotten.

George Davis had stepped from the woods quiet as a fog. For Lou, his nice clothes and clean face did nothing to soften the evil in the man. Oz was instantly cowed by him, but Lou said fiercely, "What do you want?" "I know 'bout them gas people. Louisa gonna sell?" "That's her business."

"My bizness! I bet I got me gas on my land too." "Then why don't you sell your property?" "Road to my place goes cross her land. They can't git to me 'less she sell."

"Well, that's your problem," said Lou, hiding her smile, for she was thinking that perhaps G.o.d had finally turned his attention to the man.

"You tell Louisa if she knowed what's good for her she better sell. You tell her, she better d.a.m.n well sell." "And you better get away from us." Davis raised his hand. "Smart-mouthed cuss!" Quick as a snake, a hand grabbed Davis's arm and stopped it in midair. Cotton stood there, holding on to that powerful arm and staring at the man.

Davis jerked his arm free and balled his fists. "You gonna get hurt now, lawyer."

Davis threw a punch. And Cotton stopped the fist with his hand, and held on. And this time Davis couldn't break the man's grip, though he tried awfully hard.

When Cotton spoke, it was in a tone that was quiet and sent a delicious chill down Lou's back. "I majored in American literature in college. But I was also captain of the boxing team. If you ever raise your hand to these children again, I'll beat you within an inch of your life."

Cotton let go of the fist and Davis stepped back, obviously intimidated by both the calm manner and strong hands of his opponent.

"Cotton, he wants Louisa to sell her property so he can too. He's kind of insisting on it," said Lou.

"She doesn't want to sell," said Cotton firmly. "So that's the end of it."

"Lot of things happen, make somebody want'a sell."

"If that's a threat, we can take it up with the sheriff. Unless you'd like to address it with me right now."

With a snarl, George Davis stalked off.

As Oz picked up his baseball, Lou said, "Thank you, Cotton."

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE.

LOU WAS ON THE PORCH TRYING HER HAND AT DARN-ing socks, but not enjoying it much. She liked working outside better than anything else and looked forward to feeling the sun and wind upon her. There was an orderliness about farming that much appealed to her. In Louisa's words, she was quickly coming to understand and respect the land. The weather was getting colder every day now, and she wore a heavy woolen sweater Louisa had knitted for her. Looking up, she saw Cotton's car coming down the road, and she waved. Cotton saw her, waved back, and, leaving his car, joined her on the porch. They both looked out over the countryside. "Sure is beautiful here this time of year," he remarked. "No other place like it, really."

"So why do you think my dad never came back?" Cotton took off his hat and rubbed his head. "Well, I've heard of writers who have lived somewhere while young and then wrote about it the rest of their lives without ever once going back to the place that inspired them. I don't know, Lou, it may be they were afraid if they ever returned and saw the place in a new light, it would rob them of the power to tell their stories."