by Sharon Sala
“Oh, Lord,” she breathed, and then eased back into motion, going slower, watching carefully for the rest of the herd, until finally she drove up on the fence.
Now that she was here, she debated the wisdom of going up the mountain. What if she couldn’t find the path? What if she wandered off her father’s land? There weren’t any fences on the mountain. Nothing to mark property lines except for some ancient flat rocks with surveyors’ marks on them, and you had to know where to look to even find them.
Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained. She could start up, and if it appeared to be a lost cause, it cost nothing to go back.
She crawled under the fence, thankful for the flannel-lined jacket she was wearing, and leaned the shotgun against the tree to shoulder the backpack.
“Holy crap,” she moaned, as the weight of the strap pulled at the muscles all across her back. She grabbed the shotgun and headed for the bushes, then moved them aside and stepped into another world.
Water was dripping from the leaves. The fog swirled eerily around her legs as she passed, like ghostly arms futilely trying to hinder her progress. There was no need to look up. The fog hid all but the faint shapes of trees and bushes. She kept her gaze on the ground, looking for the path. Just when she thought that she’d missed it, the fog swirled away and she saw it just a few steps ahead.
Thank you, God.
Breathing a slow sigh of relief, she kept walking, her gaze down and fixed on that narrow path.
Snap!
She froze. Something or someone had just stepped on a twig. The urge to turn and run was strong. She swung the shotgun up in her hands and stared into the thick gray mist.
Moments later she heard movement off to her right and swung the gun in that direction, ready to fire if necessary. She saw movement. Something was walking across the path a few yards ahead. Then she saw him, as shrouded as the trees from which he’d come, but the shape of his body and his immense rack of antlers were unmistakable. Her heart was pounding; she was mesmerized by his majesty. When he stopped and turned, she knew he’d seen her, too. She didn’t move, and neither did the buck. They stared, each at the other, while time stopped.
Dallas couldn’t say why, but she felt like she’d just been blessed, that her presence here had been accepted. When the buck made the first move, it was instantaneous. One leap and he was gone, swallowed up by the fog.
“Oh, my God. That did not just happen,” she said, then took a deep breath and proceeded to the ginseng patch.
After a quick recon of where she’d dug yesterday, she set the backpack aside and sent Trey a text.
I’m on the mountain.
Then she dropped to her knees and went to work.
* * *
It was the drip of water onto the top of the tent that woke Fraser up. He rolled over, expecting to see Snake in the other bedroll, but it was empty.
“What the fuck?” he muttered, put on his boots and went out to take a piss, then stopped in his tracks. He couldn’t see shit beyond their campsite.
The fire had long since gone out. The stack of firewood was wet from the thick, soupy fog, and Snake was flat on his back, arms outstretched. His crotch was wet where he’d pissed his pants, and his hair and face were beaded with moisture from the fog. Either he was dead or passed out drunk.
“What a fuckup,” Fraser muttered, and walked away from the camp a few feet to find a tree.
He came back and dug through the tent for a can of Spam and a sleeve of crackers. He would have killed for a cup of coffee, but the wood was too wet to burn. He went back out to look around for the whiskey, and when he realized Snake had finished it off, he kicked the bottom of Snake’s boot in anger, which dislodged a fart of disgusting proportions.
“Son of a bitch, Snake! That smells like something crawled up your ass and died. Wake the hell up and do something productive, like change your pants. I didn’t know we needed to bring diapers.”
Snake rolled over onto the empty whiskey bottle with a jerk and a flop, and busted his lip. He came upright with his fists doubled, cursing a blue streak as he took a swing at thin air, apparently thinking someone had just punched him in the mouth.
Fraser rolled his eyes and went back into the tent to eat. At least it was dry and smelled better in there.
Between the fog and the hangover, neither one of them would be trekking through the woods today.
Sixteen
After Trey got Dallas’s text, he had a difficult time concentrating on the work at hand, and got up and wandered through the jail area, making notes on things that needed to be fixed. It was almost nine when he went back to the paperwork that had been piling up. He had just begun when he heard a familiar voice.
“Oh, crap,” he muttered, and then stood up just as fussbudget Lowrance came in his door. “Morning, Mr. Lowrance. What can I do for you?” he asked.
George Lowrance was good at selling shoes, but not so great on apologies. Still, he considered it his duty, since he’d made two official complaints.
“I wanted to let you know that I put that surveillance camera in like your girl suggested, and this morning I finally caught the culprit in the act.”
Trey stifled a groan, hoping he wasn’t going to have to actually arrest someone for stealing a newspaper.
“So who was taking your papers?” he asked.
George rolled his eyes. “A dog. That scruffy mutt that hangs around the firehouse. You know the one—a little black short-haired thing with a bobbed tail and one floppy ear.”
Trey grinned. “Shorty. They call him Shorty.”
“Yes, that’s the one,” George said. “Anyway, I went down to the firehouse and talked to the guys myself. They told me Shorty had a mind of his own and they didn’t have an answer for my situation.”
“Well, I do,” Trey said. “Have the paper delivered to your home. You can bring it to work.”
George stood there a moment and then slapped his head. “Well, good grief! I should have thought of that myself. It would have saved me the cost of that surveillance camera.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Extra security is always a good thing,” Trey said.
“Yes, well, I just wanted you to know. Thanks again, Chief.”
“You’re welcome.”
Avery passed the shoe salesman in the hall and poked his head in Trey’s office. “Arraignment for the Pryor brothers is over.”
“Already?” Trey asked, glancing up at the clock.
“Lonnie said they were the first thing on Judge Evans’s docket and they both pled not guilty.”
“What? Why the hell would they do that? There were a dozen witnesses to the whole thing.”
“I don’t know. Lonnie just put them back in their cells and said you would want to know.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Trey said, but he was shocked.
So on top of everything else, those idiots were planning on dragging everything out and going through a trial. He thought about what Dallas had told him about storing ginseng, so now he knew the ginseng in that knapsack was going to rot. He thought about Walt’s wife and four kids being on their own if he went to jail; without money to tide them over this winter, they would go hungry.
He had an idea, and decided to see if he could get a minute to talk to Judge Evans. It might be a wasted trip, but he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t try.
* * *
Trey’s steps were long and hurried as he walked the courthouse hall to Evans’s office.
The judge’s secretary was at her computer, and looked up and smiled when he entered.
“Hello, Chief. What brings you here?”
“Hey, Loretta. If the judge is in I’d like to talk to him a minute.”
“I’ll check,” she said, then rang his office.
Inside his chambers, Judge Evans put a bookmark in the legal volume he was searching to answer the phone.
“What’s up, Loretta?”
“The chief is here. He wants a few minutes wit
h you.”
“Sure. Send him in,” Evans said.
“You can go in,” Loretta said,
“Thanks,” Trey said, and entered the judge’s chambers.
“Trey! Have a seat,” Evans said.
“Thanks. I appreciate this. I have something I’d like to run by you. It’s about the Pryor brothers.”
“Quite a mess. I imagine their families aren’t too happy with them about now.”
“Yes, that’s part of what I wanted to talk about. As you are aware, the stolen knapsack with the freshly dug ginseng belongs to Walt Pryor.”
“Right.”
“I know they’ve pled not guilty and that they want this to go to trial. The deal is, they committed or admitted to their crimes in front of a dozen witnesses as I was putting them under arrest.”
“Go on,” he said.
“Walt is the one who pulled the knife. His brother was unarmed, so he knows he can’t claim self-defense, and basically he has no leg to stand on getting out of the assault with a deadly weapon charge.”
“According to the law, you’re right.”
“And Stuart has already admitted to stealing his brother’s property, so he can’t deny what he did, because I witnessed his admission, and he got the stolen property out of his own vehicle and turned it over to me.”
“Yes, right again,” Evans said.
“My point is, if this is drawn out, the ginseng is going to rot. It needs to be sold now to keep it from spoiling, or at the least refrigerated to keep it fresh.”
“And how is that our problem?” Evans asked.
“Other than having part of the evidence spoil on our watch, none. But I was thinking, if the brothers agreed to waive trial and let you assess their guilt and punishment, and sentence them from the bench, the evidence would then be returned, correct?”
Evans sat there for a minute, thinking, and then it hit him. “You’re thinking about Walt’s family, aren’t you, Chief?”
“Guilty as charged, Judge,” Trey said.
Evans smiled. “You’re a good cop. You know your people, and you care about them. So I’m listening.”
“If the brothers were willing to do as I’ve said, then Walt’s wife could sell the ginseng today and have money to live on through the winter while Walt is in jail. If not, I know a woman and four kids who are going to have a cold and hungry winter up on the mountain.”
Evans leaned back in his chair. “You know you’re damn young to be the chief of police, right?”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“Well, just so you know, you’re doing a fine job, regardless of your age.”
“Thank you. I grew up here, and I do care about these people and what happens in this town. I intend to live and die here without one day of regret.”
Evans nodded. “Okay. Here’s my thought. If the brothers waive trial, and are willing to accept their sentences from the bench, then yes, Walt’s wife will get his property back and be free to do whatever she chooses with it.”
Trey beamed.
“Thank you, Judge. I’m going to have a talk with the brothers right now. Would you be willing to get this done today?”
“Hell yes,” Evans said. “The more cases I can clear from my docket, the happier it makes me.”
“I’ll be in touch,” Trey said.
He left the office in haste and headed back to the station.
Avery was dispatching an ambulance to the nursing home when Trey walked in.
“Where’s Earl?” Trey asked, as soon as Avery finished.
“On patrol,” Avery said.
“Get him in here ASAP. I need someone to witness a discussion I’m going to have with our two jailbirds.”
“Yes, sir,” Avery said, and quickly sent out a call for the officer to return to the station.
“When he gets here, tell him to come back to the jail.”
“Will do, Chief,” Avery said.
Trey headed down the hall to the back of the building where the jail cells were located. He could hear the brothers talking when he walked in, and from the sound of their discussion, they were both deeply regretting what they’d done.
“Good day, gentlemen. How’s it going?” he asked.
The brothers looked at him like he’d lost his mind.
“How do you think it’s going, Chief? We’ve fucked ourselves, and we’re going to prison.”
“Yes, well, you have only yourselves to blame for that now, don’t you?”
They looked at each other and then down at the floor.
“Out of curiosity, what do you two hope to gain by going to trial?”
“Well, we thought one of us might get off, and then he could go home and take care of the family until the other one gets out,” Walt said.
Trey shook his head. “That’s not gonna happen. You know why?”
They looked crestfallen.
“No. Why?” Stuart asked.
“Walt tried to assault you with a deadly weapon in front of witnesses. He tried to cut you. Someone could say he was trying to kill you. That’s attempted murder.”
Walt groaned and buried his face in his hands.
“And you, Stuart, have already confessed to theft and handed over the stolen property to me from your own vehicle, again in front of witnesses. And since the value of the stolen property was over five hundred dollars, it became a felony. You’re not getting off on that, either.”
Stuart began to cry.
At that point, Earl walked in.
“Is everything all right, Chief? Avery said you needed me.”
“Everything is fine, Earl. I want you to be a witness to what I’m going to propose to these fine gentlemen here, so that they can’t come back later and claim they were railroaded into anything.”
Earl took out his cell phone.
“I’ll record it, Chief, and download it into evidence.”
Trey nodded.
“Okay, now. Walt. Stuart. You have both committed crimes in front of at least a dozen witnesses, and have confessed your guilt in those crimes to me at booking. Is this true?”
“Yes, I did,” Walt said.
“So did I,” Stuart added.
“And you’re both worried about Walt’s wife and kids, and your mother, who will be up on the mountain alone when you and Stuart go to jail. Is this true?”
“Yes,” they said in unison.
“And I assume you know that the ginseng being held in evidence, the ginseng Walt dug to sell and Stuart stole, is going to rot sitting in that knapsack in the evidence room.”
“I told him that,” Walt said.
“You need to know that I talked to Judge Evans on your behalf, and if you are both willing to waive your rights to a trial by jury and let him assess your crimes and sentence you from the bench, he will release the property in question to your family. Immediately.”
Walt jumped up from his bunk and grabbed the bars of the cell, his eyes wide with disbelief.
“You did that, Chief? You went out of your way to help our family like that?”
Trey shrugged. “They don’t deserve to suffer for the mistakes you two made.”
“I’m waiving my right!” Walt said.
Stuart was standing now, too, the tears drying on his face. “I’m waiving my right to trial, too,” he said.
“How quick can we do this? That ginseng isn’t going to last much longer,” Walt said.
Trey pulled his phone out of his pocket and made the call.
Loretta answered.
“Judge Evans’s office.”
“Loretta, it’s me, Trey. Tell the judge the Pryor brothers are willing. They’re ready when he is.”
“Just a moment, Chief, while I put you on hold.”
Trey waited.
“What did he say?” Walt asked.
“I’m on hold,” Trey said, and then Loretta came back on the line.
“He said to tell you, get the prisoners over here. Go to courtroom eight. He’ll meet you there. I’l
l have a stenographer waiting.”
“Thanks, Loretta. See you soon.”
Trey hung up.
“Earl, grab the handcuffs and leg chains. We’re going to court.”
“Leg chains?” Stuart cried.
“So you don’t change your mind and run,” Earl said.
Within fifteen minutes they were pulling up at the courthouse and escorting the prisoners into court.
Less than thirty minutes later the brothers had been sentenced and were on their way back to jail to await transport to prison. Since neither man had a record of any kind, the judge had, in Trey’s opinion, been as lenient as he could be. The men would serve minimal time for their offenses, with the possibility of parole within the year.
Even better, the evidence had been released, and the minute it was back on Trey’s desk he was on the phone to Walt’s wife, who broke down in tears, thanked him effusively and said she was on her way.
The day was turning out to be a good one after all.
* * *
The fog didn’t completely dissipate on the mountain until after noon had come and gone. Dallas was sitting on an outcropping of rock taking a much-needed break and eating the sandwich she’d brought from home. Her back was tired, her shoulder was throbbing, and her belly ached from crouching to dig, but she had plenty to show for her misery. One of the plastic bags she’d brought was almost full.
She looked down at the area in which she’d been digging and then up at what was still left to harvest, and for a moment she felt the impossibility of accomplishing such a task alone. The harvest time for ginseng in West Virginia ran from September 1 to November 30, but she didn’t have the luxury of all that time. Not with the foreclosure date on the farm looming closer by the day and her buyer leaving on the first of October.
As soon as she was through eating, she quenched her thirst, found a bush where she could take a bathroom break and went back to work.
Now that the fog had lifted, she was more aware of how dense the woods were and how isolated she was. If only her hearing had been fully restored, she wouldn’t feel so vulnerable. So she kept the shotgun within reach and every so often rocked back on her heels to scan the woods around her.
