Ms. Long took a deep breath. “Sir,” she called, but he kept on walking. “Sir?” He paused and walked back, smoke drifting from his nostrils.
“What is it?” He shifted the turkey in his arms.
“Would you be interested in signing this petition against the coming mine?”
Justy smiled at the way she talked, just like she did to the students, calm but with eagerness lacing her voice.
“Why should I?” Gaines suppressed a cough.
“Well, it will radically change the environment of Red Mountain, dump soil into the streams and affect the salmon runs.” Ms. Long tapped the clipboard.
“Do you know who I am? What I do for a living?” Gaines shifted the turkey again and spat out his cigarette. People turned at his raised voice. Connie poked Sally, but she was watching Ms. Long with a serious look.
“No disrespect, sir, but this mine doesn’t care who you are. This company, Pacific Mining, does not care one bit about any of us. They’re just about profits.”
Gaines laughed his raspy laugh and said, “My kind of people.” He coughed and held out his free hand. When he finished coughing, he said, “Hold on.” He walked through the crowd with his turkey and stopped in front of Jake. “Come here, Chief.”
Jake handed Kyle’s shotgun to him and moved after Gaines. They both walked back to Ms. Long. She clenched her right fist, took a deep breath.
“Mr. Colby,” she said, and gave Jake a curt nod. Dale moved to stand two people back.
“You know Jake?” Gaines set the turkey on the table and lit another cigarette. The entire group watched. Gil Walker yelled at people to get out of his way as he rolled the wheelchair over the rough dirt. His eyes darted back and forth between Ms. Long and Gaines, his toothless mouth gaping open. Lefty Fry came to stand behind Gil, resting his hands on the back of the chair.
“Mr. Colby’s daughter is in my class,” Ms. Long said. Justy hoped the teacher wouldn’t start discussing what she thought were Justy’s problems.
“Right,” Gaines said, and put an arm around Jake’s shoulder. Jake pulled at his collar. “This lady here, she’s got a petition and she’s trying to get me to sign it. She says the mining company doesn’t give a rat’s ass about anybody in this town. What do you say to that?”
Ms. Long opened her mouth and her chest heaved a little, but she just tilted her head. Jake looked at her, actually seeing her face for the first time, even though she’d lived in the town for over six months. Kyle walked up and stepped near Gaines and Jake. Jake felt trapped by all the eyes, and he twisted his boot toe into the still-wet earth. He didn’t know what he thought about the mine or the petition; he just knew that living where he did out on Red Mountain made it so he could survive.
“That company ain’t ever done one thing wrong to me and mine,” he said.
Gaines smiled at the teacher and sucked on his cigarette. She slumped in her seat but kept her lips curved upward. Jake made as if to move away, but Gaines held tight to Jake’s shoulders.
“Whoa, there. I need some advice. You figure I should sign the petition? Should I join the nice hippie woman’s cause? She ain’t got but five signatures so far.”
Ms. Long stood and Jake shrugged. Kyle stepped forward and said to her in a soft voice, “Don’t worry about these two. They’re just fooling.”
Justy gripped Ochre’s stone as Lefty stepped from behind Gil’s chair and bowed to Ms. Long. She nodded at him and smiled. Lefty cleared his throat and said in a voice that the whole crowd could hear, “I’ll sign the petition.” He stood straight, adjusted the collar of his sky-blue button-down shirt and soothed his lengthy gray beard.
“You’ve already signed it, Lefty,” Gaines said, releasing Jake and taking a step back. Ms. Long nodded but watched Lefty with a generous smile on her face. Gi1 Wa1ker waved a hand at Lefty, as if dismissing him.
“How about I sign it again?” Lefty turned and asked the crowd, his arms in an exaggerated shrug. A few people smiled and Justy felt a wave of relief pass through both Jake and Dale. Lefty picked up a pen and signed his name with a flourish. Gaines grumbled under his breath, moving in his distinctive run-walk back to his truck, the frozen turkey jiggling in his arms.
Mark Sloan called the next round of shooting and people moved away from the tables. Ms. Long straightened her clipboard and for the rest of the afternoon sat alone. Justy climbed into the back of the truck she was kneeling near and watched the few clouds. She pretended the sky was another kind of river, one she could tumble into if suddenly the law of gravity released her. The gunshots and the smell of the gunpowder held her in place, and she felt the different pulls of Jake and Dale. One of the clouds looked like a doe, and she thought that maybe she needed to keep her ears open for the sound of both horse and deer hooves.
On April twentieth, Justy rode to school and tried to tell if she was somehow different. She had entered this world seven years before, and she wanted to feel altered. If she’d been in another family, a celebration with a song and a cake would acknowledge her birth. She traced shapes on the fogged window beside her. She knew she wasn’t supposed to want those things, but she couldn’t remember why they were bad. It made her think that maybe Jehovah’s Witnesses were started by people who didn’t have any money and had found a way to make their children feel better by telling them it was God’s wish for a pure life that they weren’t supposed to celebrate holidays.
The tops of the western mountains were held again in the misty paw of the coast fog. It made her feel good to know spring had arrived and that summer was gathering close. She wanted the heat so she could find relief in the Eel. In less than two months, school would be out and Dale would find ways to take the children to Carver’s Hole and let the water ease them all. And maybe Sunshine would take Ochre to Carver’s and Justy would still get to see him, even if only once in a while.
She held the assigned book for the sixth-graders, Animal Farm. She’d read it and decided the pigs were like the people who first came to the United States—people with good intentions until other people got in their way, such as the Indians. In her shoe, the penny rode safe, and she decided it’d be a good thing to give it to Ochre, even though the Folgers can still sat in a kitchen cupboard.
Jake and Kyle continued to dig up bodies, and each time Jake walked past the growing pile of labeled boxes, he felt a pull to look into the one with only the finger bones, the button and the ring. Dale spent more and more time at the meetings, attending two or three a week now, getting rides from Mamie or Joella. Micah often went with her to the Kingdom Hall. Lacee took to sitting out by the pond and filling the twilight with her voice, singing cowboy songs. Justy explored the trees, the barns, the awakening of the blackberry vines, never straying from the sound of Lacee’s voice floating out across the water. She would return in the dusk, singing silently along with Lacee, the words woven into the caves of her mind. This was what Dale did—hovering near the melodies she knew, sometimes not even aware of what her mind was doing. On the nights Dale wasn’t at meeting, Lacee simply sat by the pond, reading or watching the water. Justy found a rock in the trees opposite the pond where she could sit and watch the dark settle. The bats flitting through the evening made her think of musical notes, zipping above the pond, eating insects. She knew a song hung in the changing shapes and she wished she could read the music.
***
Justy’s birthday passed unmarked at school, and she watched Ochre closer to see if he saw anything different about her. He treated her as usual. Justy thought maybe he was a birthday present that spread itself out over time, and this pleased her. A small part of her wished Dale would suddenly show up with cupcakes and a smile, and the ache to be like the others welled up inside her.
At the end of the day, she took the penny from her shoe and rinsed it off. Before Ochre walked to the Volvo, Justy tapped him on the arm and held out the coin. He smiled instantly and she
breathed a sigh of relief. He tucked the penny into his pocket, nodded and then moved over to the car.
Justy rode the bus home and walked with Lacee and Micah up the hill. Her hands paused often on the dry skin of the trees; she liked to look up through their branches, seeing how they framed the sky. Something was eating at Dale, and Justy was torn between getting home quickly and lingering with the trees. She decided to walk as fast as she could. When the children arrived home, Dale stood from the kitchen table, the week’s Watchtower in her hands. The house was spotless and Justy studied her, trying to ferret out what was going on. Dale offered them hot chocolate, and Justy thought maybe the rare treat was Dale’s way of celebrating her birth.
After the children settled themselves, Dale joined them, sitting at the head of the table, flipping through the pages of the Watchtower. Micah drank his chocolate in three swallows and had a brown mustache. Lacee didn’t drink, her arms crossed, waiting. “Why are you in Dad’s chair?”
So many thoughts raced through Dale’s mind that Justy held the mug to her lips, not drinking, trying to understand what was going on.
Dale finally stopped fiddling with the magazine. “What more do you hear about the petition?”
Lacee shrugged. “A few more people have signed since the trap-shoot, even Sally Ferris.”
“But are most of the people those hippie teachers?” Dale asked.
“Seems like. If you mean those women who don’t shave their legs.”
Dale looked to the wall of the windows in the living room. Justy struggled to let the smell of the chocolate fi11 her mind and not the nervous thoughts running through Dale.
“Mr. Walters is coming,” Dale said.
“When?” Lacee asked, and stood.
“Anytime. Do you think you can call Gaines so he could tell Jake?”
Lacee flipped through the thin phone book and found Gaines’s name. She turned the dial and they all waited.
“There’s no answer,” Lacee said, and gently replaced the receiver. Dale had sat here for hours, afraid to pick up the phone, but she could still walk up to a stranger’s house and knock on the door.
“Well,” Dale said. “Can you three go outside and take a look around? Straighten up a bit? I’ve done some, but more would help.”
Lacee pulled the rubber band from her French braid, releasing her black hair like rapids in the Eel. Micah and Justy followed her outside and looked at the fence separating the yard from the surrounding field. Over by the deserted chicken coop, wood and scrap metal lingered in haphazard piles. On the far side of the Doug fir where the illegal deer had hung, five or six old batteries waited. It was all stuff that could be used in one way or another but never was. Lacee rebraided her hair and then began to pick up sticks and dump them in the kindling box on the porch. Micah walked over and pushed the batteries into straight rows with his feet.
Justy’s hands remained on a piece of madrone in the woodpile. She tried to see things as if for the first time. What she saw was the makings of a life in the middle of nowhere. She looked out at the valley they lived in—a grassy field tucked into the tree-covered mountains. It made her think about the first people who had tried to live on the land—the Maurers. A sudden hatred toward Mr. Walters filled her, even though she knew hate was the work of Satan. She didn’t want that man to tell them they had to leave.
Ms. Long had said the river might die if the mine happened. Justy didn’t know how a river could die, but she knew it would be the end of everything she knew.
Lacee dumped another load in the kindling box and prodded Justy. “Hey, help out, will ya?”
Justy went through the house to the small back porch and grabbed the broom. As she returned, she saw that Dale had left the mugs on the table and was standing in the living room, staring out the windows, her bones pressing closer together as she prayed and prayed. Justy swept the wood chips, thinking about the trees that Jake fed into the stove.
Lacee stopped in the yard and shrugged. “Good enough,” she said, and the three of them went into the house. Justy returned the broom to the back porch, and they sat at the table to finish the hot chocolate and do homework. The clock’s hands said it was four-thirty, and when half an hour had passed, Dale stirred herself from the window and went into the kitchen. Before she had a chance to unwrap the venison, the sound of a vehicle vibrated through the afternoon quiet, a brown pickup appeared, then drove out of view as it curved its way to the house.
“It’s a company truck,” Micah said. Dale went into the bathroom, checked her scant makeup and brushed her hair. Lacee and Micah walked out the front door, and Justy waited for Dale. They went to stand behind Micah and Lacee at the east edge of the porch. Mr. Walters leaned over to the passenger side and flipped through a stack of papers. Dale placed her hand on Justy’s shoulder and squeezed. Mr. Walters fell out of the truck, almost crumbling to his knees but recovering in time. His tie was loose, and one of his pant legs was partially tucked into a black sock. He looked up and saw the Colbys watching him, and his pale face turned a deep pink. He coughed and smiled. “Mrs. Colby.”
He half waved, lurching forward. “Oh,” he said. He shut the truck door and then struggled to open it again. He pulled out a foil-wrapped package from a cooler and Justy wondered if it was illegal venison. The logo on the truck read “Pacific Mining Company” and showed a stream running between two trees. It looked nothing like the stories Justy had heard about mines and the destruction they could do. Mr. Walters walked toward them, leaving the truck door open. He extended his hand to Dale, and shook hers, long and earnestly.
“How are you, Lollie?” He leaned toward Lacee and grinned. His tie hung forward and Justy realized that the only people she ever saw in ties were Witnesses and mine people.
“I’m fine, Mr. Walters. But my name is Lacee.”
Dale squeezed Justy’s shoulder again while Walters slapped his forehead. “Right, right. Lacee. How could I forget? And you, you’re Mike?”
Micah smiled and said, “Close enough, sir.”
Mr. Walters winked at Justy and held the package out to Dale. She just looked at it.
“Gayle, my wife, as you know, she thought you all might like some of the marlin we caught when we were down in Mexico.” Walters wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, the package sweeping through the air.
“That was nice of her,” Dale said in an even voice.
“I hope you like it, and Gayle, she figured you guys probably wouldn’t ever get a chance to have some marlin…”
Dale stiffened and Micah said, “No, we haven’t tried it. Tell her thanks.”
Walters’s grin broadened. “I think grilling is the best way to eat it.” He pulled the tie’s knot at his throat tighter. They watched him roll his white shirtsleeves in the diluting light. “Jake around?”
Dale softly said, “No.”
“My secretary did call?” Walters studied their faces.
“Yes, but only about two hours ago,” Dale said. “I wasn’t able to get ahold of Jacob.”
“He’s got some work, then?”
“Digging up graves.” Lacee said this as if it were a challenge, like she did at school when anyone mocked Justy or Jake.
“Oh, I see.” He scratched at his neck. “What’s this petition about?” He pulled a white handkerchief from his pants pocket.
“We don’t know much about it, Mr. Walters,” Dale said.
“Some teachers at the school started it,” Micah said. Walters nodded and looked to the pond. Justy followed his gaze and saw the quick blurs that were the bats.
“You haven’t signed it, have you, Dale?”
“No, Mr. Walters,” Dale said, and sighed. “Even if I did sign it, which I won’t, it wouldn’t mean anything because I’m not registered to vote.”
“She doesn’t vote,” Micah said. Walters wiped his forehead again and then look
ed down, seeing his pant leg tucked into his sock.
“What about Jake? Does he vote?”
“Most of the time, no. He doesn’t make it in time.”
The twilight deepened and quiet reigned for a moment.
“He hasn’t signed the petition, Mr. Walters. Not that I know of.”
“Good, good.”
Walters asked if he could have a moment alone with Dale. She reluctantly let go of Justy’s shoulder, and Lacee led Justy and Micah into the house, taking the marlin. Justy stood at the window, studying where the creek disappeared into the trees at the bottom of the field. Walters asked Dale about the rumors he’d been hearing about marijuana. He wanted to be sure that Jake kept an eye out for people who might try and grow on the company’s property. Nothing illegal was to be done on the land, especially with the mining proposal undergoing such close scrutiny by the Environmental Protection Agency.
Dale assured Walters that nothing unlawful was happening, and Justy knew her mind gently curved away from the night of the hunt, months back. Dale focused herself down and let her words come from the place of truth regarding the marijuana.
Walters talked on and Justy thought he was like an overgrown guard dog, anxious to please. She wondered whether he ever considered what it would be like for them when they had to find somewhere else to live. Walters and Dale finished talking, and Justy wondered whether he’d take a Polaroid like he usually did.
He told Dale he’d be staying at a motel in Madrone. He’d drive the back roads of the property the next day, taking soil samples and tying yellow ribbons to trees, marking spots for preliminary digging. Dale walked into the house and sat on the couch. Justy felt Dale’s worries surge, and they both wondered how Walters could be so nice when they knew that one day soon he’d bring the orders for them to leave.
By Way of Water Page 12