Eighteen
SLEET FELL AGAIN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE night, but by morning the sky rose blue and unclouded. Ice clung to Noland Mountain's remaining hardwoods like brittle sleeves, a marvel of shifting hues when the sun shone full on them. Most of the workers shaded their eyes as they trudged into the upland, but a few held their gaze until their eyes burned from the glare, such was the beauty of it. By the time the last man made his ascent to the ridge, the warming ice had begun to slip free from the branches. Smaller pieces at first, tinkling like bells as they hit the frozen ground. Then came water-clear downfalls that quickly covered the understory, crackled and snapped beneath every footstep. Men walked through them as they would the remnants of a vast shattered mirror.
Pemberton had just set his coffee on the office desk when Harris called, his voice even more brusque than usual.
"Webb and Kephart made an offer on the Jackson County land," Harris said. "They came in soon as Luckadoo opened up, and they're willing to pay him full price."
"Were the Cecils with them?"
"Hell no. You think they'd deign to come down from their castle for something like this. They'll wait till it's over, have that goddamn waterfall named after them."
"But you still believe it's the Cecils behind all this?"
"It doesn't matter a dog's turd who is backing them," Harris shouted. "That son-of-a-bitch Luckadoo thinks Webb and Kephart have the money. He gave me a courtesy call."
"How far along with this are they?"
"They've co-signed everything for the down payment. All that's left is the transfer deed." Harris paused. "Damn it, I knew I should have called Luckadoo last night."
"It's a good tract but so is Townsend's," Pemberton said. "You said as much yourself yesterday."
"This is the tract I want."
Pemberton started to speak, then hesitated, unsure if he wanted to risk Harris' wrath being turned on him, but it was a question he and Serena needed answered.
"Are you sure you're not just wanting to spite Webb and Kephart?"
For a few moments Harris didn't respond. Pemberton could hear the older man's breath slow. When Harris spoke, his words were more measured but just as belligerent.
"If we don't do this deal, Pemberton, we never do one, and that includes Townsend's acreage."
"But if the transaction's gone this far…"
"We can still get the land if we pay off Luckadoo. That's the only reason he called me in the first place. It's just going to cost more."
"How much more?"
"Five hundred," Harris said. "Luckadoo's giving us an hour to make up our minds. Like I said, we do this deal or we never do another one. That's the way of it, so make up your mind."
"I'll have to talk to Serena first."
"Talk to her then," Harris said, lowering his voice for a moment. "She's smart enough to know what's best in your long-term interest."
"I'll call you back as soon as I can."
"You do that," Harris said. "And make damn sure soon is within an hour."
Pemberton hung up and walked to the stable. Serena was in the back stall with the eagle, her fingers reddened from the raw meat she fed the bird. He told her about the phone call. She fed the eagle a last piece of meat and placed the hood back over its head.
"We need Harris' money," Serena said. "We'll have to humor him, this time, but have Lawyer Covington put in the contract that Harris can't begin any mining operations until the site's timber is cut. Harris has found something up there besides kaolin and some copper, something he doesn't want us to know about. We'll hire our own geologist and find out what it is, then refuse to cut the timber until Harris gives us a percentage, a good percentage."
Serena stepped out of the stall. She handed Pemberton the tin plate and lifted the wooden latch, closed the stall door. A few stringy remnants remained on the plate. Many of the workers claimed that Serena fed the eagle the hearts of animals as well, to make the bird fiercer, but Pemberton had never seen her do such a thing and believed it just one more bit of the camp's lore about Serena.
"I'd better go call Harris."
"Call Covington as well," Serena said. "I want him there when Harris talks to Luckadoo."
"Our having to pass on Townsend's land will doubtless delight Albright," Pemberton said, "but at least this will take care of Webb and Kephart on one front."
"I'm not so sure about that," Serena said.
WITH the purchase of a second skidder, the men now worked on two fronts. By the first Monday in April the northern crews had crossed Davidson Branch and made their way to Shanty Mountain, while the crews to the south followed Straight Creek west. Recent rains had slowed progress, not just forcing men to slog through mud but causing more accidents as well. Snipes' crews worked the west end of Shanty. Since McIntyre hadn't recovered from the falling snake incident, a man named Henryson had been hired as his replacement. Henryson and Ross were second cousins who'd grown up together in Bearpen Cove. Both men viewed the world and its inhabitants with a sharp and pessimistic wit. This shared dourness Snipes had duly noted, and hinted it would be the subject of some future philosophic discourse.
A cold rain had fallen all day, and by mid-morning the workers resembled half-formed Adams dredged from the mud, not yet molded to human. When Snipes signaled for a break, the men didn't bother to seek what shelter thicker trees might afford them. They merely dropped their tools where they stood and sat down on the boggy earth. They looked as one toward the camp and its day's-end promise of warmth and dryness with longing and a seeming degree of skepticism, as if unsure the camp's existence wasn't some phasma conjured in their waterlogged heads.