by Amy Allgeyer
And then I’m sucking air, backing away, wishing I hadn’t seen. Because there is something hanging in the tree.
It’s Goldie. Poor, sweet, patient old Goldie hanging from a noose.
And now I know what a rope dog is.
I run inside to get something to cut Goldie down with and look twice at the old shotgun Grandaddy used to keep the chicken coop safe. It’s hanging on pegs over the doorway, and I’m pretty sure I saw some shells in the junk drawer in the kitchen. Thinking about Goldie, there’s a part of me that yearns to take that gun and go after Peabody. Instead, still shaking, I pick up the phone and punch in 911. Then I take the butcher knife outside and cut Goldie down.
Her body’s not even cold yet. My hand shakes with rage as I stroke her soft head and rub her ears the way she liked. There are no words for the depth of my hatred for Peabody.
Twenty minutes later, the cops show up, and we have a repeat of the morning the shed burned. Same police officers. Same pathetic attempt at evidence collection. Same faux concern for our well-being.
“Somebody’s not happy with you,” Officer Hanford says. “You got a pissed-off ex-boyfriend?”
I roll my eyes at him, but as soon as his back is turned, I’m biting my lip, remembering what Cole said yesterday.
Don’t say I didn’t warn y’all.
Could I be wrong? Is Cole warning me to keep my mouth shut?
I tell the cops to leave Goldie here so we can bury her; then I head for the house to tell Granny what happened. Just thinking about that sweet, old dog, the way she’d sit next to you for hours, just waiting for a scratch or a pat, I have to stop and count to five three times before I get to Granny’s room.
“I’m so sorry.”
Tears run like rivers down the wrinkles carved in her cheeks. My heart cracks, right down the middle.
“I know you loved her. I did too.” I can’t help but feel responsible for everything that’s happening. I didn’t set the fire or kill Goldie, but whoever did certainly wasn’t mad at Granny.
“You didn’t do nothing,” she says.
“I know but …” I stand at the end of her bed, my splinted finger tapping the footboard.
She’s right. I haven’t done anything. I haven’t done anything to deserve this. And, I think grimly, I haven’t done anything about it. Nothing except bitch and moan and fill out a form.
Granny’s fussing with her blankets, barely strong enough to pull them up. She’s gotten so weak, but inside, her body is still fighting. That’s what I should be doing—fighting Peabody. He’s going to start paying for his sins. Somehow. Someway.
“Do I smell bacon?” Granny asks.
I sigh. “No, no bacon.” Goddam Peabody.
“Aw well.”
“Mrs. Philpott will be here in a few minutes.”
“She coming by for a visit?” Granny asks.
“Something like that.”
“Aw’right, Jamie,” she says. “I’ll see you later.”
I just head for the car. As much as I hate being called that woman’s name, I don’t see any sense in correcting Granny. Besides, I have starfish to save.
Thirty-Eight
Thanks to this morning’s extracurricular activities, I’m late again, which means I can’t catch the bus. Which means either I have to stop for gas or hope the two dollars I pumped in yesterday will be enough to get me to school and back. As I hand more of next week’s food money to the guy at the gas station, I wonder if I could just slide one of those Milky Ways into my sleeve. He seems to know what I’m thinking, though, and keeps his eyes on my hands the whole time. I guess I’m not the first hungry customer he’s had.
Being behind in just about every class, I grab a granola bar from the cafeteria and spend my lunch period making up a math quiz and redoing some homework for Literature that I crapped out on last week. It’s not until after school that I catch Dobber, at his locker, and tell him about Goldie.
“Damn! Rope dog?” He glances up the hallway to where Cole’s standing with some of the baseball players. “I’m sorry, Liberty.”
“Do you think he could have done it?” I ask.
“Shit, I dunno.” Dobber slams his locker hard enough to shake the floor. “Me and Cole been buddies long as I can remember. He’s a ass when it comes to girls, but I never known him to hurt anybody.”
“He hurt me,” I remind him.
“Well, that’s true.”
I watch Cole and his friends walk out into the sunshine toward the baseball field. I wish all I had to worry about this afternoon was running around in the sun, playing games.
Dobber bends down to pick up his cleat bag. “You think it was him?”
I stare through the glass doors a moment longer. “I think he told Peabody about the complaint I filed. But I can’t believe he’d kill Goldie.”
“Me either,” he says. “What happens now? I mean, we was supposed to be safe for a while.”
“I know.” I take a deep breath. “But we’re not. God only knows what he’ll try next.”
He hooks his bag over his shoulder and leans against the locker next to me. “What’re we gonna do?”
“I’m not sure, but sitting around waiting isn’t going to work.” I look up into his eyes, crinkled around the edges with worry. “I think we have to take the offensive.”
“Meaning?”
“I’m not sure yet, but—” I stop and stare at Ashleigh, who’s just appeared behind Dobber. “What?”
She looks like whatever she’s about to say tastes bitter. “I wanna help.”
“What are you talking about?”
Her eyes roll skyward. “Don’t play stupid. I know you’re going after the mine. The whole town knows.”
“Shut up!” I hiss.
Dobber grabs her by the arm and drags her into the empty chemistry lab. “What the hell, Ash. You trying to get us all killed?”
She glances at me. “Tempting as that is, I’d rather go after Peabody.”
I try to put together the completely-not-fitting pieces of this puzzle. Ashleigh, who hates me, wants to help us take down the mine, which belongs to her uncle. “Is this a joke?”
Her brown eyes go narrow and evil. “No. You think you’re the only person around here who cares?”
“No. But you’re related to the mine owner! Or did you forget that?”
“If I could, I would.” Her voice drops. “I hate that man. I wish he were dead.”
“Is this a new development? Because I asked you for help weeks ago and you slammed a freaking steel door in my face.”
“I didn’t trust you then,” she says.
“And now you do?”
“Don’t get excited. It doesn’t mean I like you,” she says. “I still think you’re a self-centered, self-righteous—”
“You know what? We don’t need your help.”
Dobber steps between us, completely eclipsing Ashleigh’s thunderstorm face. “Hang on, Lib. Ashleigh’s got a dog in this fight too.”
“Why? Because her grandfather’s sick?”
“Do you know who my granddad is?” Ashleigh asks from the other side of Mount Dobber.
“Why should I care?”
“Wilson Tanner.”
Whoa. “Tanner’s Peak Tanner?” I try to step around Dobber but he stays between us.
“Yes.”
“What the hell was he thinking?” I ask. “Letting Peabody do that to the mountain?”
“Granddaddy didn’t let him.” Her voice drips acid. “Nobody’d seen a mountaintop removal mine before.”
“And the words mountaintop removal didn’t tip anyone off?”
“Fuck you,” she says loudly. “You think you’re so—”
“Keep your voice down,” Dobber warns.
“Why are you even here?” I ask
. “We don’t want your—”
Dobber clamps a hand over my mouth and turns to Ashleigh. “If you wanna help, you’re gonna have to explain it to her.”
She crosses her arms and glares at Dobber. “It’s none of her business.”
“What’s not?” I mumble through Dobber’s hand.
Ashleigh chews her lip for a few seconds, clearly mulling her options. “I’m only saying this once, so try to keep up.”
Curiosity is the only thing that keeps me from punching her in the face. Dobber drops his hand from my mouth.
“Uncle Robert laid Granddaddy off one year before he was eligible for retirement, so they didn’t have to pay his pension. He had no income, no way to live. He scraped by on savings for a while, but that started running out pretty fast. Then, a few years ago, a new geological report came out showing a coal seam near the top of Tanner’s Peak.”
I see where this is going. “Peabody offered to buy the mountain and your granddad sold it because he needed money to live.” The idea leaves me hollow. I know what desperation feels like and how principles can’t always be afforded.
“Sold the mountain, yes, but not to Peabody. The deal was with Dragline, a new subsidiary of Peabody Mining. For half a million dollars, to be paid once the coal was removed.”
“God, that’s a lot of money.”
“It would have been,” Ashleigh says. “If Dragline hadn’t declared bankruptcy the week after Granddaddy signed the papers.”
“Wait. Bankrupt? So, he got … nothing?”
Ashleigh sighs. “The bank took control of Dragline’s assets before we even heard they were bankrupt. Uncle Robert privately negotiated the purchase of everything Dragline owned from the bank, including Tanner’s Peak, which they paid twenty thousand dollars for.”
“Twenty thousand?” That’s nothing. A person could only live a year or two on that.
“To be paid once all the coal is removed,” Ashleigh adds, still standing on the other side of Dobber.
“When’s that going to be?” I ask.
Ashleigh shrugs.
“Have they paid him anything?”
“Not a dime.”
“Assholes,” Dobber says.
“Have you talked to a lawyer?” I ask. “Because that’s bullshit.”
“We can’t,” Ashleigh says. “My daddy works for the mine.”
“So?”
She gives Dobber an “I told you she wouldn’t get it” look. “So who do you think’s supporting my granddad now? And paying all his medical bills?”
“Oh,” I say, understanding.
“Right. If any of us even look cross-eyed at Uncle Robert, Daddy’ll get fired and none of us will eat.”
Their situation is a house of cards. A house of cards in a windstorm.
“I’m not asking to be your friend,” Ashleigh says. “But … Dobber get out of the way.” She punches and pokes him until he steps aside. “I want that man out of our lives.”
“And you don’t think joining us is going to get your dad fired?” I ask.
“Well, I don’t figure you’re going to send Uncle Robert a card listing ever’body’s names, right?”
“No, but we want to get the mine shut down. What’s going to happen to your dad’s job then?”
“Shut down, he gets unemployment and eventually another job,” Ashleigh says. “Fired, he gets nothing but a black mark against him.”
“How do we know you’re not a spy,” I say. “Maybe you’re the one who’s been watching us. Maybe ‘Uncle Robert’ put you up to this, to see what our next move is.”
“Look,” she says. “I don’t like you and you don’t like me and that’s fine. I’m not asking to share your hopes and dreams or borrow your clothes.” She gives me a resigned frown. “But you’re the only person who’s ever even talked about taking on the mine. And I’m sick of being a victim.”
I know what she’s feeling. I know it like I know the taste of salt. It’s anger and frustration and pain and loss, and if we could see it, I bet it’d be bright orange. So I get where she’s coming from. And I guess, in my gut, I know I can trust her. If Peabody wanted someone to get close to me, he’d find somebody way nicer than Ashleigh.
“It’s like any other team, Lib,” Dobber says. “You ain’t gotta like ever’body on it.”
“Fine. Dobber’s house. Tonight. Seven o’clock.”
She nods at me, but stops short of saying anything. Like thank you.
“This’ll be interesting,” Dobber says.
I watch her walk out the door into the hall. “It’ll be fine,” I say. “If I have to kill her, we can make it look like Peabody did it.”
Mrs. Philpott’s car is gone when I get home. She’s supposed to stay and give me a report on Granny’s day, so I’m a little irritated as I rush inside. Dropping my stuff at the door, I’m halfway down the hallway before I hear the voices.
One is Granny, laughing softly.
“Liberty?” the other voice calls. “Is that you?”
I freeze in place as my stomach heaves and the dark hallway seems to tilt a little.
She’s supposed to be in prison.
I stare toward Granny’s door as a shadow moves across the floor.
Why isn’t she in prison?
My former mother steps into the hall.
“What are you doing here?” I ask none too kindly.
“Good lawyers,” she says. “They compiled enough evidence to prove I wasn’t involved in the bombing. Everything was settled out of court, so no trial.” Her face is thinner; she’s lost some weight. It makes her look younger, even more like my sister than my mom. My former mom. Other than that, she’s exactly the same. “I was released yesterday. And just in time too. Looks like you guys could use a little help around here.”
“Help? From you?” I snort.
“Liberty …” The smile she gives me is so patronizing, I have to link my hands together to keep from punching her. “The dogs are filthy. There’s dust everywhere. For heaven’s sake, there’s not even any food in the house. It’s pretty clear you need some help.”
Oh. My. God.
“Get out,” I say.
“What?”
“You have no … no fucking idea!”
She reaches forward then drops her arms back to her sides, like she can’t decide whether or not to touch me. “Look, sweetie, I know we have some things to patch up.”
“No,” I say. “We don’t. We have nothing to patch up. I don’t have a mother. We don’t have a relationship. You and I are strangers. And I don’t want you here.”
“How can you say that?” she says with her annoying, infinite calmness. “You’re my everything. All these years, remember? It’s just been you and me against the world.”
“Is that a joke?”
“Of course not.” Her perfectly tweezed eyebrows draw together in confusion and I wonder if she groomed them in prison or if she stopped on the way here to pretty herself up. It pisses me off even more. I’m dealing with cancer and dead dogs. She’s fixing her face. “Look, Lib, I’m sorry I wasn’t here for this.” She tilts her head toward Granny’s door. “But I’m here now. And I’m going to make things right.”
“You can’t make this right.” I yell. “And I don’t need your help. You’re not my mom. Not anymore.” The last thing I hear before I slam the front door behind me is Granny coughing.
I spend the rest of the afternoon sitting at the top of the holler, throwing sticks for Silkie and Beethoven, and pulling some early spring ticks out of their fur. From here, I can see the roof of the house and the chimney. MFM must have put extra wood on the fire because the chimney is smoking more than usual. Not so much that I worry it’s something else, just enough that I worry we’re going to run out of wood. Typical MFM. Instant gratification with no regard for tomorrow
.
I wish she were still in prison.
Instead, I’ll have to figure out some way to get through these next few weeks or months. It’s not like I can tell MFM she can’t stay here. First of all, it’s Granny’s house, and I’m sure she’s not going to kick her own daughter out. Second, as much as I loathe the idea of MFM being here, I know she should be. Granny’s dying. These are the last days either of us will have with her.
Thinking back to the doctor’s office and how much I wanted someone else with us, I try to translate that to MFM. Try to be glad she’s here or at least be grateful I don’t have to go through this all on my own. But the truth is I’ve never felt any support from her. Just disappointment. And need. And more disappointment.
It’s hard for me to see her as anything other than one of these ticks, trying to suck something out of me when I’ve got nothing left to give.
Thirty-Nine
Ashleigh’s car is already at Dobber’s when I arrive. He’s set the table with some stacks of paper and a few pens. His dad is sitting on one side dressed in a clean T-shirt, shaved, and showered. The change is remarkable. For the first time, I see he has Dobber’s eyes and nose and is actually kinda good-looking, for an old guy.
“Well, we know why we’re here, so we might as well get started,” I say. “Getting the mine shut down is our goal. I’ve filled out the paperwork the EPA sent me to lodge a formal complaint. And I’ve written to a nonprofit group that helps communities dealing with mountaintop removal mines. Both of those are long shots though. And until we have something we can hold over Peabody’s head as a bargaining chip, we’re not safe. So … ideas?” I look around the table at blank faces.
Ashleigh levels her round brown eyes at me. “Are you telling me you don’t even have a plan?”
“Do you?” I counter.
She screws up her face into something like disgust. “I’m not the one who’s been working on this for a solid month.”