Wild Hearts

by Sharon Sala

  Dallas flew into the house, grabbed her water bottle out of the refrigerator and dropped it in her backpack as she went out the kitchen door, heading for the shed. The house was locked, the chickens and cows had been fed and she was on a mission.

  She tossed her things in the pickup, then drove down toward the barn as vehicles began lining up and following behind her. She took them across the cattle guard and through the pasture with a joyful heart and the blue sky above her promising a clear day.

  They joined Dallas in parking along the fence. Then they began helping each other through the wire, shouldered their gear and waited for her to show them the way.

  Dallas eyed the weathered faces of the older women and the clear-eyed gazes of the younger ones, and felt a kinship with them that she had never felt in Charleston.

  “It’s about a fifteen-minute walk up,” she said.

  “Lead the way,” Betsy said. “We’re right behind you.”

  Dallas pushed past the clump of bushes and started walking. She heard the women talking and chattering behind her, and for the first time since her father’s death, she felt a promise of better days to come.

  When she reached the patch she moved through it to where she’d stopped digging, then waited for the last of them to catch up.

  One by one, as the women saw the honey hole, their chatter stopped, and by the time the last few reached the destination, the only sounds to be heard were the rustling leaves above their heads.

  One voice came out of the crowd that said it all.

  “Sweet Lord have mercy. I have never seen such a sight.”

  “Pick a spot and start digging, and if you please, plant a seed back in the hole as you go,” Dallas said.

  The women dispersed themselves across the patch in a long even row so that they would move up the slope in unison without missing any plants.

  Dallas dropped her backpack, grabbed her trowel and one of her bags, and knelt in front of the nearest plant. She worked the blade carefully downward into the dark, rich dirt and then thrust her fingers in behind it, feeling for the neck and the roots of the plant hidden deep in the earth below. And when it finally came free in her hand, she threw back her head and laughed.

  The women heard and understood.

  * * *

  The last ginseng root went into a bag at fifteen minutes after five. The woman who’d dug it made a little whoop of delight, and then she stood up and let out a rebel yell that made the hair stand up on the back of Dallas’s neck.

  She took in the sight of the work-weary women scattered about the mountain; they all looked as tired and dirty as she felt. But it was done.

  “It’s over. You did it. We did it!” Dallas said.

  And then she put her hands in the air and did a little celebratory dance that had the women hooting and laughing in pure joy.

  And then, just as quickly as they had celebrated, the reality of the moment hit them. They still had to get all that ginseng home. They began gathering up their things and started the long trek down.

  Someone started singing, and then someone else joined in. They trooped down the mountain, singing the truth of their day as they went.

  “‘Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord...’”

  Dallas was walking blindly, her vision so blurred with tears of relief and gratitude that she could hardly think.

  “‘He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored.’”

  One by one, with long weary steps, they went, their voices blending in song just as their hands had joined together on this day to right the world of one of their own.

  And just when Dallas thought she’d seen it all, they walked out of the forest to their cars and found a dozen armed men with Trey at their head, waiting.

  Betsy began to explain. “You’re not done yet, honey. Taking this to sell on your own would be like asking to be shot. We’re taking this to town together, all of us.”

  Trey could tell she was in shock, but he was heartily glad that this was almost over. He gave her a quick kiss and a hug.

  “Did you know about all this?” Dallas asked.

  “Not at first,” Trey said. “But when word got out what the women were doing, some of their men contacted me, wanting to help. What you have here is an armed escort to the buyer, who is waiting for your arrival. And even though it’s almost closing time, our fine banker, Gregory Standish, has two employees waiting with him inside the bank to make sure the money you receive tonight is locked up inside his vault before you go home. So hustle your backsides, ladies! We have sang to sell!”

  “What about the ginseng I had in the cooler?” Dallas asked.

  “I put it in your truck.” He shifted his attention to the women behind her. “Are you in it until it’s over?” he asked.

  “Yes!” they said as one.

  “We want to watch this sell!” another shouted.

  “We just helped make history,” Betsy said. “The size of this crop is something that’s never been seen around here. Of course we’re going.”

  Trey called out to the men, “Break out those empty boxes so they can unload the bags.”

  The men lined up the plastic boxes as the women began dumping in the roots and fastening the lids before the men started loading them into Dallas’s truck. When hers was full they began filling up the next truck, and the next and the next, and when there were still bags of ginseng but no more boxes, she made a quick decision.

  “Put the bags in the pickup beds in a single layer. Given that we’re not going far, they should be fine.”

  When the last bags were loaded, she turned and shouted, “That’s it! We’re ready to go, and we have an escort all the way back to town. Lead the way, Chief. We’re right behind you.”

  They followed Trey back through the pasture and across the cattle guard, and then Dallas remembered her little hens.

  “Oh, no! The chickens need to be fed and put up.”

  Betsy reached for her phone. “I’ll call Otis Woodley. He’ll be happy to help, and he knows what to do.”

  “I am going to owe so many favors to so many people that I’ll grow old and gray before I can pay them all back,” Dallas said.

  Betsy grinned as she began making the call while women spilled out of the pickups and SUVs and began moving to their own vehicles to follow the crop into town.

  When Trey reached the blacktop he hit the lights and siren for the hell of it and headed for the highway with a long line of vehicles bringing up the rear. He’d done this countless times leading a funeral procession to a cemetery, but he’d never escorted a group like this.

  The drive into town turned into a parade. Everyone in Mystic had heard about the dig, and when they found out Dallas Phillips was bringing her ginseng in to sell under police escort, they began lining the streets from the bank all the way to the feed store.

  The buyer was waiting there with his own armed guards, a suitcase full of money and a refrigerated truck to haul away not only what was coming in, but what he’d been buying all month.

  Betsy was in the seat beside Dallas when they hit the city limits.

  “What on earth?” Dallas asked, as she saw the people lining both sides of the street.

  Betsy laughed. “You, my sweet girl, are making history here in Mystic. Just wave and smile.”

  “It’s all because of you,” Dallas said.

  “No, baby. It’s because of you. Anything would have been easier than what you chose to do. You have to know that today you made your daddy proud.”

  The mention of her dad made Dallas teary, but she was too happy this was over, and too damned tired, to cry. People were shouting and waving and taking videos and pictures as they drove through town, and when they pulled up at the feed store, the drivers all began looking for a place to park.

  A tall, skinny man with a thick head of dark hair got up from the steps of the feed store and started walking toward Trey’s police car.

  “I’m Marsh Webster,
” he said, as he shook Trey’s hand.

  “Pleased to meet you, sir,” Trey said, and pointed at Dallas, who was coming toward them. “That’s the lady you’re waiting for.”

  “Mr. Webster, I’m Dallas Phillips.”

  He’d heard everything there was to know about this woman while he’d been waiting. From her success in front of a camera to the heartache of her father’s murder, her near-death dance with a vicious dog and yesterday’s attempt to kidnap her. He saw the dark circles under her eyes and the crowd of women behind her, and for one of the few times in his life, he was in awe. He held out his hand.

  “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

  Dallas grasped his hand firmly. “I’m pleased to meet you, too. I understand you buy ginseng.”

  He grinned. “Yes, ma’am, I do. And I was given to understand you had some to sell. The scales are in the feed store. If you’ll bring in your harvest, we’ll start getting it weighed.”

  “It’ll take a bit,” she warned, and then waved at the women. “Start carrying it in.”

  The armed men formed a protective line between the crowd on the street and their women and what they were carrying.

  Trey stood on the top step of the feed store with a watchful eye on the crowd. He spotted Officers Lonnie and Carl Doyle watching it from the back.

  Marsh Webster smiled when he saw what was coming in and began examining the ginseng with growing delight. As Dick Phillips had promised, both the age of the roots and the quantity were staggering, and the women had brought the crop in fine condition. He began weighing and marking each lot, and just when he thought he was through, they would bring in another box, and another and another, and then they began handing him bag after bag. The silence inside a room filled with this many people was unusual, but every woman wanted to be present, to be able to tell the tale down the years of how they’d saved a family’s heritage with a honey hole of sang.

  Dallas lost count of time and pounds, and was leaning against Trey for both strength and moral support when Marsh Webster jotted down the last weight and looked up.

  “Is that it?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Dallas said.

  Marsh shook his head. “Glory be,” he mumbled. “Give me a minute to total up these weights. I believe we talked about four hundred dollars a pound,” he said.

  “No, sir. We talked about five hundred dollars a pound,” Dallas said. Her expression was firm, her gaze locked on his, and she wasn’t backing down.

  He grinned. “Maybe we did,” he said, and pulled out a calculator.

  A slight murmur began rolling through the crowd as excitement grew.

  Dallas watched him punch in every amount, and as he did, he checked it off with a neat red mark to prove he was keeping things honest. When the total came up, he whistled softly under his breath.

  Dallas’s nerves were shot. She was tired and dirty and as hungry as she’d ever been, and yet standing here in this place at this moment was something she would never forget.

  Trey watched Webster multiply out the weight times five hundred, and when the buyer’s eyebrows went up, he watched him do it up again.

  Finally Webster was done.

  “Monroe! Bring me the money,” he yelled.

  One of his guards went running and came back quickly with a big brown case.

  Webster gave Dallas a copy of his work sheet, then wrote out a bill of sale for the total amount and handed that to her, as well.

  “You set a record in West Virginia history that I doubt will ever be broken,” he said. “As of this moment, I owe you one hundred and thirty-two thousand dollars for two hundred and sixty-four pounds of prime green ginseng.”

  The room erupted in chaos. Women were laughing and crying as Dallas stood beside the table watching him count out the money. All she could think was that this day should have been Dad’s.

  When Trey saw the sadness on her face, he put a hand on the back of her neck to remind her she wasn’t alone.

  Dallas picked up one of the boxes Webster had emptied, and when he was done counting out the money, she put it into the box, one stack at a time, and then snapped the lid shut.

  The click was a signal of the end of their transaction.

  “Thank you, Mr. Webster.”

  “Thank you, Miss Phillips. It was a pleasure doing business with you. Keep me in mind now, you hear?”

  “You won’t be seeing me here again. The Phillips ginseng saved the farm. I think we’ll just let it be.”

  “Tell me something,” Marsh said.

  “If I can,” Dallas said.

  “How the heck did you manage to keep a patch like that untouched?”

  “I don’t know that myself,” she said.

  And then one of the older women who’d been digging with Dallas stepped out of the crowd, waving her hand.

  “Oh, I can answer that,” she said. “Anyone who’s ever been up on that side of the mountain knows that the poison ivy is solid from the survey marks on the Phillips property outward and up all the way around to the other side. It’s so thick we used to joke how someone must have let it grow to hide a still back in the old days. Didn’t any of us question the reason or want to wade through nearly a quarter of a mile of it to see if the story was true.”

  Finally Dallas smiled. Her ancestors had been brilliant. Poison ivy, a barrier that kept growing and spreading with every passing year.

  “We need to get going,” Trey said. “We’re keeping a banker waiting. Dallas, honey, if I may, I’d be happy to carry that money for you.”

  “Much appreciated,” she said, and followed him out.

  The crowd saw them emerge, and with so much money for their harvest that they were carrying it in a box. People erupted in cheers. Once again the procession reformed as the women drove all the way back to the bank with Dallas, determined to see the deal through.

  Gregory Standish knew he, too, would become part of history and was planning how that would fit into his campaign for mayor when he finally saw them coming. He began shouting orders.

  “They’re coming! Get ready. Get her account pulled up.”

  The tellers were at their stations, ready to receive and deposit the money into Dick Phillips’s checking account.

  But when the chief and Dallas came in the door, the tellers were taken aback by the swarm of bedraggled women who came in with them, then a little uneasy at the sight of the armed men who stood barring the door.

  Gregory Standish put a hand under Dallas’s elbow and urged her forward.

  “Right this way, Miss Phillips. These are my two best tellers. They will be counting out your money and depositing it into your account.”

  “Count it all,” she said, “but I want the exact loan amount paid to your bank today. When I go to sleep tonight, I need to know my land is free and clear of any debt.”

  “Yes, certainly,” he said, and went to work right along with the tellers, pulling up the loan amount and then waiting for them to total and deposit the whole, before they could deduct the amount she owed.

  Finally the counting was done, matching Marsh Webster’s total, and the money was deposited. At that point they began a series of debit and credit actions that made her lose count of what was going on.

  When Gregory Standish finally handed her the loan paper marked Paid In Full, she turned and thrust it in the air.

  “We did it! We saved the farm! My dad would be so proud.”

  The women began laughing and cheering, while Standish and the tellers grinned from ear to ear.

  Trey stood by smiling, struck by the power of the female bond.

  When they began to leave, Dallas suddenly remembered what she’d intended to do and began calling them back.

  “Wait! Wait! I want to give each—”

  They answered en masse with a resounding “No!”

  “We did this for you. Not for the money,” Betsy said. “Just live a long and happy life on that land, and make me some pretty babies to spoil. That’s wh
at we want.”

  “No, Mom. That’s what you want,” Trey teased.

  The women were still laughing and joking as they walked out of the bank. It had been a long hard day, but they were satisfied with their work and the final outcome.

  As for Dallas, her reward had become more than paying off the loan. As of this moment, she was almost eighty thousand dollars to the good and had the deposit slips from the tellers to prove it. And today Dallas and all those women had done more than dig up a mountain of ginseng. They had forged a bond of kinship that would never be broken, something no amount of money could buy.

  “Thank you for this. Thank you for giving me time you would have spent with your families.”

  Gregory Standish just kept beaming. “It was my pleasure...our pleasure to do this. Dick was a friend.”

  Standish followed everyone out, and then locked the bank doors and remotely reset the alarm before going home.

  Night had come to Mystic while Dallas was putting her world back together. She paused at the curb for a quick word with Trey. “Are you done for the day?”

  “I sure am, baby. You and Mom head home. I’ll bring up the rear.”

  Dallas climbed slowly back into the truck and then glanced over at Betsy as she started the engine. “You do know that you’re working your way toward being the best mother-in-law on the planet, right?”

  Betsy giggled. “I do what I can.”

  As Dallas pulled away from the curb, she felt like the weight of the world was gone from her shoulders. She also felt like she wanted to sleep for a week.

  After all the elation, the drive home was oddly quiet. All the energy that had followed their success had been used up. As soon as Dallas drove into the yard, Betsy started gathering up her things.

  “Just let me out here, honey. I’m ready to go home, too.” She leaned across the seat and gave Dallas a kiss on the cheek. “Welcome to the family, sweet girl.”

  “Thank you again for everything,” Dallas said, then sat and waited until Betsy transferred her things to her car and drove away. Dallas drove around to the back of the house and was putting the pickup in the shed when Trey pulled in.