Free Redemption Mountain by Gerry FitzGerald Page A

T-shirt, both filthy with dirt and tree sap.
    The parking area around the trailers was crowded, so Natty pulled the Honda off to the right of the driveway and walked the few yards up to join the group. “Hey, Buck! How’d it go?” Buck didn’t move. She helped herself to a beer out of the cooler and asked, “So, what’s going on here, somebody die or something?”
    Sally lifted Cat up for a hug and lowered her back to the ground. “As a matter of fact, Nat, somebody did die. That guy Hugo Paxton—you know, the power-plant boss?”
    Natty knew Paxton well enough from the Roadhouse, but she wasn’t friendly with him, and she didn’t like the way the fat man always found a way to rub against her. “’Course I know who he is.” She took a swig of beer, relieved that it wasn’t somebody in the family or a local person. “What happened to him?”
    Roy Hogan took up the story. “Last night, Hugo has a big T-bone at the Roadhouse, then goes into Fat Cats, all fired up and ready for action. He gets himself a lap dance from that big girl, Doreen. You know, the one with the huge melons?”
    â€œI’ll have to take your word for that, Roy,” Natty responded.
    â€œSo, Paxton’s shuckin’ and jivin’ and really getting into it, and he’s got a fistful of twenties ready to fly, when, boom, he hits the floor like he fell out of a damn airplane. Dead as a mackerel. Heart attack, it looked like. Ransom jumped down there and pounded his chest and blew some air into him for a while, but he’s so fat, nothing’s going to work on him.”
    â€œYou should have had Sally do the mouth-to-mouth part,” Natty said, with a wink to her sister-in-law. “He sure was hot for Sal.”
    Buck sat up slowly and tossed his empty beer can toward a box next to the stairs. He hadn’t shaved in several days, and his black goatee was a little longer than usual. At the front and top of his head, his hair shot up like short porcupine quills. At the sides, it was longer and slicked straight back. Black wraparound sunglasses covered his eyes. As always, whenever Buck did anything, he commanded attention.
    â€œI’m glad you all think this is so damn funny,” he said, “after all the time I spent with that fat asshole. Drinking with him. Introducing him to my buddies. Making him feel like maybe he wasn’t a complete fucking dork, just so’s he’ll put in the good word for me at the power plant.” Buck stood up and pulled his T-shirt off over his muscular chest and shoulders. Tossing it down on the deck, he slowly, achingly, shuffled toward the door of the trailer. “Now they’ll send some new asshole down here, and he don’t know me from Jack-shit-outta-luck, and I get fucked again.” The metal screen door slammed behind him.
    Sally broke the silence that followed. “How’s your mama, Nat?”
    Natty immediately thought about the Redemption Mountain problem but decided to leave it alone for now. This wouldn’t be the most sympathetic audience to enlist in a crusade against a mountaintop-removal mining project. Maybe the whole thing would just go away. She didn’t need any more friction in her relationship with Buck.
    â€œMama’s fine, Sal,” Natty answered. “We had a real nice visit. It was beautiful up on Redemption Mountain, really beautiful.”

 
    CHAPTER 6
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    T he July heat shimmered across the yard in waves. It hadn’t rained in weeks, and a dusty haze hung in the air. Not the best day to be working on the stumps, Charlie Burden concluded. He sat down to rest on the edge of the hole he’d excavated around the remains of a large maple. At one time the project was to be Ellen’s tennis court, but as their involvement with the country club became more extensive, her desire for a tennis court at home waned. Now it was just a good physical workout