Raylan_ A Novel - Elmore Leonard [37]
“Owed his soul to the company store,” Art said. “That was the truth of coal mining. Get paid in scrip only good at their store.”
Raylan said, “You saw those boys came in the restaurant?”
“Miners,” Art said.
“But you can’t tell by lookin at ’em, can you? They might get dust on their coveralls sittin up on a dragline, but not a bit of coal dirt on them.”
Art said, “Those boys were United Mine Workers at one time, like everybody else.”
“You’re union, M-T won’t hire you.”
“Leave ’em alone. They have to care for their families.”
They were approaching M-T Mining’s Looney Ridge site. Art said, “They dump the rocks and waste over the side and call it ‘holler fill.’ ”
He slowed down to crawl past a company sign nailed to a tree. It said:
NO TRESPASSING
NO HUNTING
NO FISHING
NO FOUR-WHEELERS
NO SIGHTSEEING
NO NOTHING
Raylan said, “ ‘Violators will be prosecuted,’ but nothing about investigating maybe a homicide, so we’re okay.”
They were in the trees now heading up to the work site.
“Tomorrow’s the meeting M-T’s putting on in Cumberland,” Art said. “Everybody welcome to air their beefs with the mine company.”
“No jobs,” Raylan said, “and coal dust settling on everything you own.”
“They’ll answer complaints,” Art said, “and describe how they’ll restore and dress up the bald ridges.”
“I hear,” Raylan said, “they’re puttin in a golf course. All the laid-off miners can play a round of golf, since they’re not doing nothin. The laid-offs and the working miners will yell at each other a while and that’s the meeting.”
“You’re bound to see some of that,” Art said, “but this meeting—whether anybody knows it or not—is gonna be about Black Mountain. M-T’s sneakin up on it.”
“They won’t get it,” Raylan said.
“They haven’t yet, but they’re patient.”
“How high is it, four thousand and something?”
“Four thousand a hundred and forty-five feet above sea level.”
“How about top to bottom.”
“About twenty-five hundred.”
Raylan said, “They won’t stand for it being scalped down. It’s full of nature, animals, deer, ATV trails . . . You know the tree huggers’ll get up in arms.”
“You’re talkin about people motivated by their emotions,” Art said. “We’ll see how they fare against a coal company lawyer.”
“This woman the company’s sending?”
“Carol Conlan,” Art said.
“Five bucks she’s a ballbuster.”
“Her dad was a West Virginia miner. I’m told she grew up in coal camps and went on to Columbia for her law degree.”
It didn’t make sense to Raylan.
“Her dad’s a miner, what’s she doing workin for the company?”
“Ask her,” Art said. “You’re Ms. Conlan’s security while she’s here. You’ll be in the limo with her, maybe driving. But you don’t say a word less she speaks to you. Otherwise keep your coal-miner-lovin mouth shut.”
“You’re givin me this,” Raylan said, “cause I went after the nurse on my own. Didn’t have time to call for backup.”
Art was shaking his head.
“Carol Conlan asked for you by name, and got a judge to request the chief deputy to okay it, as a favor. This lady can have state troopers, any amount of protection she wants, and she chose you, Raylan. Tell me why she’d do that?”
“She’s a vice president of a coal mine company, I guess she can have anything she wants.”
“But why you?”
“I don’t know.”
They followed a sweep of road that climbed across the side of the slope to the top of Looney Ridge. Art pointed to a bulldozer.
“The one Boyd used to dump the rock on Otis. Boyd said it must’ve taken a bad hop and hit his house.”
“An act of God,” Raylan said.
“That’s what Boyd called it. He did, an act of God, ‘Since man can never tell what the Lord has in mind for us.’ He said the company’s agreed to pay the wife for her loss.”
“Her husband or the house?” Raylan said.
They came in view of the office trailer, none of the broken windows replaced.
Art said, “Look who’s coming out, with a broom.”
Boyd Crowder in a white shirt and maroon tie—the M-T colors on their signs