“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. What was I thinking?”
“Look, Kate, I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Ask me anything.”
Kate stared at him a moment and then turned to look back out the window. “You can start by telling me where you’ve been all this time. You just vanished. You never said goodbye. Nothing. What happened to you?”
“I’m sorry for that.”
“It’s not important, but if you want to start somewhere, then start with that.”
“It’s not really as mysterious as you make it sound.” Mark shuffled a cigarette out of a pack in the console. “You mind?”
“I do.”
He looked at her again to see if she was kidding. She wasn’t, so he slid it back into the pack.
“You were saying?”
“Right, well, you know me and my old man never really got along.”
“Yes, I knew that.”
“I was old enough to handle the old prick when he got to drinking and knocking me around, but my mother, and my little brother—”
“Raffe?”
“Yeah. I couldn’t always be there to protect them. Raffe got the worst. He was just a kid. Deddy would’ve killed him one day if I didn’t do something, so as soon as I squirreled away enough cash, I got them out of here. We ended up in Atlanta. I know, not very far away, but far enough from that bastard. We started using my mother’s maiden name and scraped together a new life.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to take the chance of anyone knowing where we went. My granddeddy was high rank with the Burroughs clan, and if Deddy really wanted to put the screws to someone and find out where we were, I didn’t want that someone to be you.”
Kate’s face went hot again. The heat rushed through her. “Is your mother still there, in Atlanta?”
“She passed a few years after we got there.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“No. It’s okay. She got sick. Things happen. My brother and I were there with her when she died. She went peacefully, so she was okay with it all at the end. We were, too, but my brother needed looking after when she died, and that fell on me. Lucky for us, we met up with some good people that eventually offered us work. Lucrative work. The job took us all over the country—all over the world, really.”
“Like where?”
“We spent a lot of time in Japan, Afghanistan, the Philippines. All over.” He paused and looked distant.
“What kind of work takes you to Japan?”
Mark took a minute to answer. “Repossession.”
“You’re a repo man?”
“Yeah, you could say that. I recover things.” He hesitated again. “Sometimes I make things disappear, too. It’s complicated.” It was obvious he was keeping his backstory intentionally vague, and Kate didn’t press it.
“Clayton’s mother had to leave this place, too. For the same reason you had to get your mother out.”
Mark cut his eyes at her. “I know.”
“But she didn’t try and save anyone but herself. She left him behind.”
“Lucky for him.”
Kate was surprised by that response. Lucky was the last word she’d use to describe a child abandoned by his mother. “Lucky? In what way?”
“Well, if she had taken Clayton with her, he never would have met you.”
Kate had no response to that. They rode for a moment in silence before another tune on the radio caught Mark’s attention and he turned up the volume just slightly to fill the gap in conversation. They rode on for a few minutes as pop-country filled the cab of the truck. Kate hated that shit. This time she turned it off. “So what brought you back here?”
“You did,” Mark said almost too quickly, as if he had been waiting for that question.
Kate felt the heat again. She really needed to send schoolgirl Kate packing. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“Well, not you, per se but your family. Your husband’s family.”
“How so?”
“Mike and I go way back. You know that. And this probably isn’t going to help me out any with your trust issues, but I was a connection for Mike and Halford in Atlanta for years.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, and despite what you might think, Scabby Mike’s a good man.”
“I know that, and I think it’s horrible that you people that claim to be his friends still call him that.”
Mark smiled at her. She could still surprise him. “Anyway, I was working a job on the Texas border a few months ago and Mike contacted me to let me know my old man died.”
“I heard about that. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy. The point is, Mike also caught me up on everything that’s happened here over the last year. He told me about Halford getting killed and who shot him. He said he could feel the natives getting restless and said he could use some help keeping this place from becoming the Wild West.”
“When wasn’t this place the Wild West?”
“Believe me, Kate. It’s a brand-new animal up here now.”
“So why do you care? I mean, it seems like you’ve done pretty well for yourself in the lowlands.” She rubbed the dashboard of the Tundra. “Why risk what you’ve got to come back and help out all us helpless country folk?”
Mark looked offended. “This is my home, Kate. You of all people can understand that. Imagine how surprised I was to first find out you married into the Burroughs clan. Besides, it got me worrying about Granddeddy. I knew he was sewn up tight with your husband’s family and I didn’t know how he’d be affected without Halford looking out for him.”
Kate was already tired of hearing that man’s name. “You do realize Halford Burroughs was a lunatic, right? He didn’t look out for anyone but himself. I’d say your grandfather is safer now that the psycho is dead.”
Mark left that argument alone for the moment. “Well, regardless, Papa’s getting up there in age, and I don’t know how long he’ll be with us, so I figured it was time to come home.”
“Did your brother come with you?”
“Raffe? Nah. No way in hell he’d come back here. There’s still way too much bad mojo up here. He’s watching the shop back in ATL while I’m gone.”
“I see.”
“But I’m in no rush to get back.”
“Why’s that?”
“The scenery has changed.”
Kate felt the flush of heat on her skin again.
Dammit, he was doing it on purpose.
Kate wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans.
“That’s kinda why I wanted to see you. Put your seatbelt on. This road up here gets a little bumpy.” Mark turned off the paved two-lane onto a grown-over dirt path on their right.
“Where are we going?”
“I want to show you something.”
“Mark, I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“I promise it’s not like that, Kate. It’ll only take a minute, and then I’ll bring you back to your Jeep.”
*
Kate clicked her seatbelt and Mark maneuvered the truck down the rocky path. As the path widened into a clearing, the full dark around them broke open and Mark pulled the truck onto the soft ground at the widest point of Bear Creek. This section of the creek could be mistaken for a river and moonlight reflecting off the water looked like an endless colony of fireflies hovering over the surface. She did know this road. She knew this place—from when she was a kid—but hadn’t been out here since then. She remembered a run-down trailer on blocks that used to sit far back on the other side of the water, but it wasn’t there anymore. In fact, she couldn’t believe what she saw there now. She thought about what Mark had just said a few minutes ago.
The scenery had changed.
He wasn’t talking about her. He was talking about this. A small brick cottage, quaint and well lit, with a screened-in porch covering the entrance, had replaced the ol
d trailer. There was a wood-framed swing set attached to a child’s playhouse in the middle of the yard as well.
Mark cut the engine and Kate got out. She walked as close to the edge of the water as she could before her shoes began to sink into the marsh. Mark got out and followed. A man sat in the screened-in portion of the deck with a toddler on his lap. He’d been reading to the child under the porch light, but now he was staring back across the creek at Kate with a curious expression. Another child, a boy about eight years old, was on the steps with a sketchbook and some pencils not paying them any mind at all. Kate realized the man on the porch was Ernest Pruitt, Mark’s grandfather. She turned to ask him who the children were, but Mark answered before she could.
“They’re my half-sister’s kids. She’s had some problems over the years and Papa’s been lookin’ after them while she gets her shit together.”
Kate nodded. “Are those roads paved?” she asked pointing to the drive leading away from the house.
“Yup. Underground power, too.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Nope.”
“That’s not the way I remember this place the last time you brought me out this way.”
“So, you do remember?”
Kate didn’t answer.
“No, I imagine it doesn’t look the same. It used to be a shit-hole. Our rusted-up singlewide sat right past where that house is, a tin can on wheels with two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchenette, and a toilet that never worked. My dear old dad made one room a bedroom for me and my brother, made Mom sleep on the sofa in the living room, and used the other room to drink and shoot crank.”
“I didn’t realize you grew up there.”
“I didn’t. Not there, anyway.” Mark pointed to his grandfather and waved. Ernest didn’t wave back. He hoisted the small child from his lap, and then called the other one into the house. “I grew up in the place it was before that lunatic Halford Burroughs hauled that old trailer out of here and built what you’re looking at now.”
“And why would he do that?”
“For the same reason he did a lot of other things you don’t know anything about, living life down there in that bubble called Waymore Valley.”
“Give me a break. You sound like all the rest of the fools up here that thought Halford was some kind of hero.”
“Hero? No. But, seriously, listen. When I was a boy, that singlewide you remember and a few others like it were all that was out here. You grew up around here. I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. There was nothing out this way but run-down firetraps owned by run-down ex-bootleggers all chasing the same nickel. This whole stretch of mountain was filled with bathtub cook-shacks being worked by some real bastards. My deddy included. They hustled that shit to make just enough cash to keep gas in the generators, whiskey in the cabinet, and beer on ice. Never mind things like food, or beds, or clothes for their kids. There wasn’t even running water out here except for this creek. I remember having to fetch water from right over there for my mama to boil potatoes and cabbage while Deddy knocked back beer after beer, geeked out of his mind. It wasn’t like most of the kids couldn’t go to school if they made the hike every day to Waymore like I did, but who could blame them for not wanting to sit next to all the clean, normal kids with lunch boxes and bright-white running shoes?”
Kate thought about her old lunch box and her own bright-white running shoes. She was one of those normal kids Mark was talking about, and he knew it.
“It was easier to just fall in line behind folks like Deddy and hustle dope or take a small step up and work for Clayton’s father in the crops. I hated this place. All I remember back then was people hurting other people, and people hurting themselves. Hardly anyone here owned a truck or a car. Guns were plentiful enough, but anything that might make a home feel normal, like a fridge, or a TV, or a radio even, well—there was none of that. This was as trash as trash gets. I was as trash as trash gets. Now look, Papa lives in a real home. Those kids have a real yard to play in. They have a shot, you know?”
“And I suppose that’s all because of Saint Halford.”
Mark sighed, and pulled out the cigarette Kate wouldn’t let him have earlier. He took a long drag and blew the smoke away from where Kate stood. “Did you know two kids were killed—blown up—in a meth-lab explosion over on White Bluff the other day?”
The wind off the creek was pushing hard, and Kate blamed it for the cold chill she felt. “No, I didn’t.”
“One of your husband’s deputies was sent to intensive care just for being there.”
Kate said nothing, but Mark knew she was piecing something together behind her green eyes. He pulled in another deep drag of smoke and blew it out slow. “There was a time when things like that just wouldn’t have happened. As flawed as Clayton’s brother might’ve been, he did make a difference in that sense.”
“Flawed?” Kate said with disgust. “Halford and his father sold drugs and guns to anyone who paid them. The only Burroughs who ever really tried to make a difference up here is the one I married. The one who could barely walk on his own for a year because of your humanitarians.”
“That’s not entirely correct, Kate.”
“What isn’t?”
“Halford didn’t sell it here. If anything, he kept it away from here. He rooted it out and kept it out. Do you know how many kids were blown to hell on this mountain while Hal was alive? I’ll tell you. None.”
“Take me home, Mark.”
“I will, but answer me something. Do you regret it?”
“Regret what?”
“Killing that Fed?”
She was angry now. “I said take me home.”
Mark held his cigarette between his thumb and pointer finger. He blew into the cherry and made the embers glow.
“Of course you don’t. I do know you. You never do anything you don’t believe in. So does that make you a lunatic? Or does it make you someone who did what needed to be done to keep her family safe? Now ask yourself how many men like the one that tried to kill your husband do you think Clayton’s father, or Halford, encountered in their lifetime?” Mark crushed the fire off the cigarette with his fingers, before tucking the crushed cotton butt in his pocket.
Kate pulled her jacket in tight around her and pushed her hair back over her ear. She didn’t want to talk anymore. She wanted to go home.
“Mark, I can appreciate your outsider’s opinion of who and what these people are up here, and I’m glad your grandfather and those kids down there are being provided for, but why did you bring me out here and show me this? What does it matter to you or anyone else what I think?”
The lights went out inside the cottage across the creek and the two of them stood in the beams of the truck’s headlights. Mark squatted down to pick up a smooth rock from the bank. He skimmed it across the water and they both watched it skip to the middle and sink.
“When the Feds raided this mountain last year, they took everything they found, pocketed what cash they could, and left the place in tatters.”
“I know. So what?”
“So, they didn’t get it all. In fact, we think they barely scratched the surface of what’s out there.”
“Ah.” Kate suddenly became aware of her own weight. She felt anchored in place.
Money. This was all about money. Everything that happens on this mountain is calculated.
She pushed her hair back and picked up a rock of her own. “So calling me out of the blue, talking to me about our past, getting me to come out here with you, showing me all this, it’s all just part of some pitch.” She cleaned off the stone and slung it out over the surface of the creek. They both watched it glide and jump clear across to the other side.
“Not entirely.”
“Save it, Repo-man. What do you and Mike want me to convince my husband the sheriff to do? I’m sure it’s something he’s already said no to.”
“You really don’t trust anyone, do you?”
&nb
sp; “Trust nearly killed the man I love, Mark, so just say what you brought me here to say, and be out with it.”
“Maybe now isn’t the time.”
“Then take me back to my Jeep.”
“If that’s what you want.” Mark moved behind her and reached out his hand. He placed it gently on Kate’s hip. At first she didn’t move at all, as if it felt completely natural being there. Then she turned to face him. She took a step back, and unzipped her jacket. The blouse she wore underneath was just low enough to show the smooth curves of her cleavage. She knew a man like Mark would be forced to look and he did. Then Kate tilted his head up gently by his chin until his eyes met hers. “I want you to take a good look, Mark. Stare as long as you need to in order to get it out of your system, because it is not going to happen. I am Clayton Burroughs’ wife. I love him. You already know the lengths I would go for him. You just made a big point of that very thing a minute ago. Everything you think you know about what’s happening here with you and me is wrong. You’re no different than the rest of the men born of this place, but my husband is. And if you really need me to help you convince him of anything, then you need to drop the old-flame act and show him and me both the respect we deserve.”
“Okay, Kate. I get it.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me what it is you’re looking for.”
“Millions, Kate. We’re looking for millions. The problem is we aren’t the only ones looking and if they get to it first, everything I just showed you, everything decent or good left on Bull Mountain is going to burn, and that’s the truth.”
“And you think Clayton can help you find it.”
“I think he’s the only one who can.”
14
CRIPPLE CREEK ROAD
By the time Kate arrived home, the house outside was dark. The porch light was off. She quietly unlocked the door and stepped into the foyer. She kicked off her boots and slid out of her jeans, leaving them on the floor where they lay. She unzipped her jacket and hung it on the back of the recliner, and carefully sat down next to her husband who was snoring on the sofa. He stirred a little when she lifted a sleeping Eben from his chest, and held the baby tightly in her arms, covering his tiny forehead with a hundred mommy kisses. Clayton reached out to touch her bare leg as she stood. She let him, and then continued on to Eben’s room and laid him in his crib.
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