Wish You Well

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Louisa felt sorry for them one morning and gave Lou and Oz a much needed Saturday off to do as they pleased. The day was fine, with a clean breeze from the west across a blue sky, trees flushed with green swaying to its touch. Diamond and Jeb came calling that morning, because Diamond said there was a special place in the woods he wanted to show them, and they started off.

His appearance was little changed: same overalls, same shirt, no shoes. The bottoms of his feet must have had every nerve deadened like hoofs, Lou thought, because she saw him run across sharp rocks, over briars, and even through a thorny thicket, and never once did she see blood drawn or face wince. He wore an oily cap pulled low on his forehead. She asked him if it was his father’s, but received only a grunt in response.

They came to a tall oak set in a clearing, or at least where underbrush had been cut away some. Lou noted that pieces of sawed wood had been nailed into the tree’s trunk, forming a rough ladder. Diamond put a foot up on the first rung and started to climb.

“Where are you going?” asked Lou, as Oz kept a grip on Jeb because the hound was acting as though he too wanted to head up the tree behind his master.

“See God,” Diamond hollered back, pointing straight up. Lou and Oz looked to the sky.

Far up a number of stripped scrub pines were laid side by side on a couple of the oak’s massive branches, forming a floor. A canvas tarp had been flung over a sturdy limb above, and the sides had been tied down to the pines with rope to form a crude tent. While promising all sorts of pleasant times, the tree house looked a good puff of wind away from hitting the ground.

Diamond was already three-quarters up, moving with an easy grace. “Come on now,” he said.

Lou, who would have preferred to die a death of impossible agony rather than concede that anything was beyond her, put a hand and a foot on two of the pieces of wood. “You can stay down here if you want, Oz,” she said. “We probably won’t be long.” She started up.

“I got me neat stuff up here, yes sir,” Diamond said enticingly. He had reached the summit, his bare feet dangling over the edge.

Oz ceremoniously spit on his hands, gripped a wood piece, and clambered up behind his sister. They sat cross-legged on the laid pines, which formed about a six-by-six square, the canvas roof throwing a nice shade, and Diamond showed them his wares. First out was a flint arrowhead he said was at least one million years old and had been given to him in a dream. Then from a cloth bag rank with outside damp he pulled the skeleton of a small bird that he said had not been seen since shortly after God put the universe together.

“You mean it’s extinct,” Lou said.

“Naw, I mean it ain’t round no more.”

Oz was intrigued by a hollow length of metal that had a thick bit of glass fitted into one end. He looked through it, and while the sights were magnified some, the glass was so dirty and scratched, it started giving him a headache.

“See a body coming from miles away,” proclaimed Diamond, sweeping a hand across his kingdom. “Enemy or friend.” He next showed them a bullet fired from what he said was an 1861 U.S. Springfield rifle.

“How do you know that?” said Lou.

“ ’Cause my great-granddaddy five times removed passed it on down and my granddaddy give it to me afore he died. My great-granddaddy five times removed, he fought for the Union, you know.”

“Wow,” Oz said.

“Yep, turned his pitcher to the wall and everythin’, they did. But he weren’t taking up a gun for nobody owning nobody else. T’ain’t right.”

“That’s admirable,” said Lou.

“Look here now,” said Diamond. From a small wooden box, he pulled forth a lump of coal and handed it to Lou. “What d’ya think?” he asked. She looked down at it. The rock was all chipped and rough.

“It’s a lump of coal,” she said, giving it back and wiping her hand clean on her pants leg.

“No, it ain’t just that. You see, they’s a diamond in there. A diamond, just like me.”

Oz inched over and held the rock. “Wow” was again all he could manage.

“A diamond?” Lou said. “How do you know?”

“ ’Cause the man who gimme it said it was. And he ain’t ask for not a durn thing. And man ain’t even know my name was Diamond. So there,” he added indignantly, seeing the disbelief on Lou’s features. He took the coal lump back from Oz. “I chip me off a little piece ever day. And one time I gonna tap it and there it’ll be, the biggest, purtiest diamond anybody’s ever saw.”

Oz eyed the rock with the reverence he usually reserved for grown-ups and church. “Then what will you do with it?”

Diamond shrugged. “Ain’t sure. Mebbe nothing. Mebbe keep it right up here. Mebbe give it to you. You like that?”

“If there is a diamond in there, you could sell it for a lot of money,” Lou pointed out.

Diamond rubbed at his nose. “Ain’t need no money. Got me all I need right here on this mountain.”

“Have you ever been off this mountain?” Lou asked.

He stared at her, obviously offended. “What, you think I’a hick or somethin’? Gone on down to McKenzie’s near the bridge lots of times. And over to Tremont.”

Lou looked out over the woods below. “How about Dickens? You ever been there?”

“Dickens?” Diamond almost fell out of the tree. “Take a day to walk it. ’Sides, why’d a body want’a go there?”

“Because it’s different than here. Because I’m tired of dirt and mules and manure and hauling water,” said Lou. She patted her pocket. “And because I’ve got twenty dollars I brought with me from New York that’s burning a hole in my pocket,” she added, staring at him.

This gigantic sum staggered Diamond, yet even he seemed to understand the possibilities. “Too fer to walk,” he said, fingering the coal lump, as though trying to hurry the diamond into hatching.

“Then we don’t walk,” replied Lou.

He glanced at her. “Tremont right closer.”

“No, Dickens. I want to go to Dickens.”

Oz said, “We could take a taxi.”

“If we get to the bridge at McKenzie’s,” Lou ventured, “then maybe we can hitch a ride to Dickens with somebody. How far is the bridge on foot?”

Diamond considered this. “Well, by road it a good four hour. Time git down there, got to come back. And that be a tiring way to spend a day off from farming.”

“What way is there other than the road?”

“You really want’a get on down there?” he said.

Lou took a deep breath. “I really want to, Diamond.”

“Well, then, we going. I knowed me a shortcut. Shoot, get us there quick as a sneeze.”

Since the mountains had been formed, water had continued eroding the soft limestone, carving thousand-foot-deep gullies between the harder rocks. The line of finger ridges marched next to the three of them as they walked along. The ravine they finally came to was wide and seemed impassable until Diamond led them over to the tree. The yellow poplars here grew to immense proportion, gauged by a caliper measured in feet instead of inches. Many were thicker than a man was tall, and rose up to a hundred and fifty feet in height. Fifteen thousand board feet of lumber could be gotten from a single poplar. A healthy specimen lay across this gap, forming a bridge.

“Going ’cross here cuts the trip way down,” Diamond said.

Oz looked over the edge, saw nothing but rock and water at the end of a long fall, and backed away like a spooked cow. Even Lou looked uncertain. But Diamond walked right up to the log.

“Ain’t no problem. Thick and wide. Shoot, walk ’cross with your eyes closed. Come on now.”

He made his way across, never once looking down. Jeb scooted easily after him. Diamond reached safe ground and looked back. “Come on now,” he said again.

Lou put one foot up on the poplar but didn’t take another step.

Diamond called out from across the chasm. “Just don’t look down. Easy.”

Lou turned to her brother. “You stay here, Oz. Let me make sure it’s okay.” Lou clenched her fists, stepped onto the log, and started across. She kept her eyes leveled on nothing but Diamond and soon joined him on the other side. They looked back at Oz. He made no move toward the log, his gaze fixed on the dirt.

“You go on ahead, Diamond. I’ll go back with him.”

“No, we ain’t gonna do that. You said you want’a go to town? Well, dang it, we going to town.”

“I’m not going without Oz.”

“Ain’t got to.”

Diamond jogged back across the poplar bridge after telling Jeb to stay put. He got Oz to climb on his back and Lou watched in admiration as Diamond carried him across.

“You sure are strong, Diamond,” said Oz as he gingerly slid down to the ground with a relieved breath.

“Shoot, that ain’t nuthin’. Bear chased me ’cross that tree one time and I had Jeb and a sack of flour on my back. And it were nighttime too. And the rain was pouring so hard God must’ve been bawling ’bout somethin’. Couldn’t see a durn thing. Why, I almost fell twice.”

“Well, good Lord,” said Oz.

Lou hid her smile well. “What happened to the bear?” she asked in seemingly honest excitement.

“Missed me and landed in the water, and that durn thing never bothered me no mo’.”

“Let’s go to town, Diamond,” she said, pulling on his arm, “before that bear comes back.”

They crossed one more bridge of sorts, a swinging one made from rope and cedar slats with holes bored in them so the hemp could be pulled through and then knotted. Diamond told them that pirates, colonial settlers, and later on, Confederate refugees had made the old bridge and added to it at various points in time. And Diamond said he knew where they were all buried, but had been sworn to secrecy by a person he wouldn’t name.

They made their way down slopes so steep they had to hang on to trees, vines, and each other to stop from tumbling down head-first. Lou stopped every once in a while to gaze out as she clutched a sapling for support. It was something to stand on steep ground and look out at land of even greater angles. When the land became flatter and Oz grew tired, Lou and Diamond took turns carrying him.

At the bottom of the mountain, they were confronted with another obstacle. The idling coal train was at least a hundred cars long, and it blocked the way as far as they could see in either direction. Unlike those of a passenger train, the coal train’s cars were too close together to step between. Diamond picked up a rock and hurled it at one of the cars. It struck right at the name emblazoned across it: Southern Valley Coal and Gas.

“Now what?” said Lou. “Climb over?” She looked at the fully loaded cars and the few handholds, and wondered how that would be possible.

“Shoot naw,” said Diamond. “Unner.” He stuck his hat in his pocket, dropped to his belly, and slid between the car wheels and under the train. Lou and Oz quickly followed, as did Jeb. They all emerged on the other side and dusted themselves off.

“Boy got hisself cut in half last year doing that very thing,” said Diamond. “Train start up when he were unner it. Now, I ain’t see it, but I hear it were surely not purty.”

“Why didn’t you tell us that before we crawled under the train?” demanded a stunned Lou.

“Well, if I’d done that, you ain’t never crawled unner, now would you?”

On the main road they caught a ride in a Ramsey Candy truck and each was given a Blue Banner chocolate bar by the chubby, uniformed driver. “Spread the word,” he told them. “Good stuff.”

“Sure will,” said Diamond as he bit into the candy. He chewed slowly, methodically, as though suddenly a connoisseur of fine chocolate testing a fresh batch. “You give me ’nuther one and I get the word out twice as fast, mister.”

After a long, bumpy ride the truck dropped them off in the middle of Dickens proper. Diamond’s bare toes had hardly touched asphalt when he quickly lifted first one foot and then the other. “Feels funny,” he said. “Ain’t liking it none.”

“Diamond, I swear, you’d walk on nails without a word,” Lou said as she looked around. Dickens wasn’t even a bump in the road compared to what she was used to, but after their time on the mountain it seemed like the most sophisticated metropolis she had ever seen. The sidewalks were filled with people on this fine Saturday morning, and small pockets of them spilled onto the streets. Most were dressed in nice clothes, but the miners were easy enough to spot, lumbering along with their wrecked backs and the loud, hacking coughs coming from their ruined lungs.

A huge banner had been stretched across the street. It read “Coal Is King” in letters black as the mineral. Directly under where the banner had been tied off to a beam jutting from one of the buildings was a Southern Valley Coal and Gas office. There was a line of men going in, and a line of them coming out, all with smiles on their faces, clutching either cash, or, presumably, promises of a good job.

Smartly dressed men in fedoras and three-piece suits chucked silver coins to eager children in the streets. The automobile dealership was doing a brisk business, and the shops were filled with both quality goods and folks clamoring to purchase them. Prosperity was clearly alive and well at the foot of this Virginia mountain. It was a happy, energetic scene, and it made Lou homesick for the city.

“How come your parents have never brought you down here?” Lou asked Diamond as they walked along.

“Ain’t never had no reason to come here, that’s why.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared up at a telephone pole with wires sprouting from it and smacking into one building. Then he eyed a droop-shouldered man in a suit and a little boy in dark slacks and a dress shirt as they came out of a store with a big paper bag of something. The two went over to one of the slant-parked cars that lined both sides of the street, and the man opened the car door. The boy stared over at Diamond and asked him where he was from.

“How you know I ain’t from right here, son?” said Diamond, glaring at the town boy.

The child looked at Diamond’s dirty clothes and face, his bare feet and wild hair, then jumped in the car and locked the door.

They kept walking and passed the Esso gas station with its twin pumps and a smiling man in crisp company uniform standing out front as rigidly as a cigar store Indian. Next they peered through the glass of a Rexall drugstore. The store was running an “all-in-the-window” sale. The two dozen or so varied items could be had for the sum of three dollars.

“Shoot, why? You can make all that stuff yourself. Ain’t got to buy it,” Diamond pointed out, apparently sensing that Lou was tempted to go inside and clean out the display.

“Diamond, we’re here to spend money. Have fun.”

“I’m having fun,” he said with a scowl. “Don’t be telling me I ain’t having no fun.”

They headed past the Dominion Café with its Chero Cola and “Ice Cream Here” signs, and then Lou stopped.

“Let’s go in,” she said. Lou gripped the door, pulled it open, setting a bell to tinkling, and stepped inside. Oz followed her. Diamond stayed outside for a long enough time to show his displeasure with this decision and then hurried in after them.

The place smelled of coffee, wood smoke, and baking fruit pies. Umbrellas for sale hung from the ceiling. There was a bench down one wall, and three swivel chrome barstools with padded green seats were bolted to the floor in front of a waist-high counter. Glass containers filled with candy rested on the display cabinets. There was a modest soda and ice cream fountain machine, and through a pair of saloon doors they could hear the clatter of dishes and smell the aromas of food cooking. In one corner was a potbellied stove, its smoke pipe supported by wire and cutting through one wall.

A man dressed in a white shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbows, a short wide tie, and wearing an apron passed through the saloon doors and stood behind the counter. He had a smooth face and hair parted equally to either side, held down with what appeared to Lou to be a slop bucket of grease.

He looked at them as though they were a brigade of Union troops sent directly from General Grant to rub the good Virginians’ noses in it a little more. He edged back a bit as they moved forward. Lou got up on one of the stools and looked at the menu neatly written in loopy cursive on a blackboard. The man moved back farther. His hand glided out and one of his knuckles rapped against a glass cabinet set against the wall. The words “No Credit” had been written in thick white strokes on the glass.

In response to this not-so-subtle gesture, Lou pulled out five one-dollar bills and aligned them neatly on the counter. The man’s eyes went to the folding cash and he smiled, showing off a gold front tooth. He came forward, now their good friend for all time. Oz scooted up on another of the barstools, leaned on the counter, and sniffed the wonderful smells coming through those saloon doors. Diamond hung back, as though wanting to be nearest the door when they had to make a run for it.

“How much for a slice of pie?” Lou asked.

“Nickel,” the man said, his gaze locked on the five Washingtons on his counter.

“How about a whole pie?”

“Fifty cents.”

“So I could buy ten pies with this money?”

“Ten pies?” exclaimed Diamond. “God dog!”

“That’s right,” the man said quickly. “And we can make ’em for you too.” He glanced over at Diamond, his gaze descending from the boy’s explosion of cowlicks to his bare toes. “He with you?”

“Naw, they with me,” said Diamond, ambling over to the counter, fingers tucked around his overall straps.

Oz was staring at another sign on the wall. “Only Whites Served,” he read out loud, and then glanced in confusion at the man. “Well, our hair’s blond, and Diamond’s is red. Does that mean only old people can get pie?”

The fellow looked at Oz like the boy was “special” in the head, stuck a toothpick between his teeth, and eyed Diamond. “Shoes are required in my establishment. Where you from, boy? Mountain?”

“Naw, the moon.” Diamond leaned forward and flashed an exaggerated smile. “Want’a see my green teeth?”

As though brandishing a tiny sword, the man waved the toothpick in front of Diamond’s face. “You smart mouth. Just march yourself right outta here. Go on. Git back up that mountain where you belong and stay there!”

Instead, Diamond went up on his toes, grabbed an umbrella off the ceiling rack, and opened it.

The man came around from behind the counter.

“Don’t you do that now. That’s bad luck.”

“Why, I doing it. Mebbe a chunk of rock’ll fall off the mountain and squash you to poultice!”

Before the man reached him, Diamond tossed the opened umbrella into the air and it landed on the soda machine. A stream of goo shot out and painted one cabinet a nice shade of brown.

“Hey!” the man yelled, but Diamond had already fled.

Lou scooped up her money, and she and Oz stood to leave.

“Where y’all going?” the man said.

“I decided I didn’t want pie,” Lou said amiably and shut the door quietly behind her and Oz.

They heard the man yell out, “Hicks!”

They caught up with Diamond, and all three bent over laughing while people walked around them, staring curiously.

“Nice to see you having a good time,” a voice said.

They turned and saw Cotton standing there, wearing vest, tie, and coat, briefcase in hand, yet with a clear look of mirth in his eyes.

“Cotton,” Lou said, “what are you doing here?”

He pointed across the street. “Well, I happen to work here, Lou.”

They all stared at where he was pointing. The courthouse loomed large before them, beautiful brick over ugly concrete.

“Now, what are y’all doing here?” he asked.

“Louisa gave us the day off. Been working pretty hard,” said Lou.

Cotton nodded. “So I’ve seen.”

Lou looked at the bustle of people. “It surprised me when I first saw this place. Really prosperous.”

Cotton glanced around. “Well, looks can be deceiving. Thing about this part of the state, we’re generally one industry-moving-on from total collapse. Lumber folks did it, and now most jobs are tied to the coal and not just the miners. And most of the businesses here rely on those people spending those mining dollars. If that goes away, then it might not seem so prosperous anymore. A house of cards falls swiftly. Who knows, in five years’ time this place might not even be here.” He eyed Diamond and grinned. “But the mountain folk will. They always get by.” He looked around. “I tell you what, I’ve got some things to do over to the courthouse. Court’s not in session today of course, but always some work to be done. Suppose you meet me there in two hours. Then I’d be proud to buy you some lunch.”

Lou looked around. “Where?”

“A place I think you’d like, Lou. Called the New York Restaurant. Open twenty-four hours, breakfast, lunch, or supper any time of the day or night. Now, there aren’t many folk in Dickens who stay up past nine o’clock, but I suppose it’s comforting to have the option of eggs, grits, and bacon at midnight.”

“Two hours,” repeated Oz, “but we don’t have anything to tell time with.”

“Well, the courthouse has a clock tower, but it tends to run a little slow. I tell you what, Oz, here.” Cotton took off his pocket watch and handed it to him. “You use this. Take good care of it. My father gave it to me.”

“When you left to come here?” Lou asked.

“That’s right. He said I’d have plenty of time on my hands, and I guess he wanted me to keep good track of it.” He tipped his hat to them. “Two hours.” And then he walked away.

“So what we gonna do for two hours?” said Diamond.

Lou looked around and her eyes lit up.

“Come on,” she said and took off running. “You’re finally going to see yourself a picture show, Mr. Diamond.”

For almost two hours they were in a place far removed from Dickens, Virginia, the mountains of Appalachia, and the troublesome concerns of real life. They were in the breathtaking land of The Wizard of Oz, which was having a long run at movie houses across the land. When they came out, Diamond peppered them with dozens of questions about how any of what they had just seen was possible.

“Had God done it?” he asked more than once in a hushed tone.

Lou pointed to the courthouse. “Come on, or we’ll be late.”

They dashed across the street and up the wide steps of the courthouse. A uniformed deputy sheriff with a thick mustache stopped them.

“Whoa, now, where you think y’all going?”

“It’s all right, Howard, they’re with me,” Cotton said, coming out the door. “They all might be lawyers one day. Coming to check out the halls of justice.”

“God forbid, Cotton, we ain’t needing us no more fine lawyers,” Howard said, smiling, and then moved on.

“Having a good time?” Cotton asked.

“I just seen a lion, a durn scarecrow, and a metal man on a big wall,” said Diamond, “and I still ain’t figgered out how they done it.”

“Y’all want to see where I do my daily labor?” asked Cotton.

They all clamored that they did indeed. Before they went inside, Oz solemnly handed the pocket watch back to Cotton.

“Thanks for taking such good care of it, Oz.”

“It’s been two hours, you know,” said the little boy.

“Punctuality is a virtue,” replied the lawyer.

They went inside the courthouse while Jeb lay down outside. There were doorways up and down the broad hall, and hanging above the doors various brass plates that read: “Marriage Registrar,” “Tax Collections,” “Births and Deaths,” “Commonwealth’s Attorney,” and so on. Cotton explained their various functions and then showed them the courtroom, which Diamond said was the largest such space he had ever seen. They were introduced to Fred the bailiff, who had popped out of some room or other when they had come in. Judge Atkins, he explained, had gone home for lunch.

On the walls were portraits of white-haired men in black robes. The children ran their hands along the carved wood and took turns sitting in the witness and jury boxes. Diamond asked to sit in the judge’s chair, but Cotton didn’t think that was a good idea, and neither did Fred. When they weren’t looking, Diamond grabbed a sit anyway and came away puff-chested like a rooster, until Lou, who had seen this offense, poked him hard in the ribs.

They left the courthouse and went next door to a building that housed a small number of offices, including Cotton’s. His place was one large room with creaky oak flooring that had shelves on three sides which held worn law books, will and deed boxes, and a fine set of the Statutes of Virginia. A big walnut desk sat in the middle of the room, along with a telephone and drifts of papers. There was an old crate for a wastebasket, and a listing hat and umbrella stand in one corner. There were no hats on the hooks, and where the umbrellas should have been was an old fishing pole. Cotton let Diamond dial a single number on the phone and talk to Shirley the operator. The boy nearly jumped out of his skin when her raspy voice tickled his ear.

Next, Cotton showed them the apartment where he lived at the top of this same building. It had a small kitchen that was piled high with canned vegetables, jars of molasses and bread and butter pickles, sacks of potatoes, blankets, and lanterns, among many other items.

“Where’d you get all that stuff?” asked Lou.

“Folks don’t always have cash. Pay their legal bills in barter.” He opened the small icebox and showed them the cuts of chicken, beef, and bacon in there. “Can’t put none of it in the bank, but it sure tastes a lot better’n money.” There was a tiny bedroom with a rope bed and a reading light on a small nightstand, and one large front room utterly buried under books.

As they stared at the mounds, Cotton took off his glasses. “No wonder I’m going blind,” he said.

“You read all them books?” Diamond asked in awe.

“I plead guilty to that. In fact I’ve read many of them more than once,” Cotton answered.

“I read me a book one time,” Diamond said proudly.

“What was the title?” Lou asked.

“Don’t recall ’xactly, but it had lots of pictures. No, I take that back, I read me two books, if you count the Bible.”

“I think we can safely include that, Diamond,” said Cotton, smiling. “Come over here, Lou.” Cotton showed her one bookcase neatly filled with volumes, many of them fine leatherbound ones of notable authors. “This is reserved for my favorite writers.”

Lou looked at the titles there and immediately saw every novel and collection of short stories her father had written. It was nice, conciliatory bait Cotton was throwing out, only Lou was not in a conciliatory mood. She said, “I’m hungry. Can we eat now?”

The New York Restaurant served nothing remotely close to New York fare but it was good food nonetheless, and Diamond had what he said was his first bottle of “soder” pop. He liked it so much he had two more. Afterward they walked down the street, peppermint candy rolling in their mouths. They went into the five-and-dime and 25-cent store and Cotton showed them how because of the land grade all six stories of the place opened out onto ground level, a fact that had actually been discussed in the national media at one point. “Dickens’s claim to fame,” he chuckled, “unique angles of dirt.”

The store was stacked high with dry goods, tools, and foodstuffs. The aromas of tobacco and coffee were strong and seemed to have settled into the bones of the place. Horse collars hung next to racks of spooled thread, which sat alongside fat barrels of candies. Lou bought a pair of socks for herself and a pocketknife for Diamond, who was reluctant to accept it until she told him that in return he had to whittle something for her. She purchased a stuffed bear for Oz and handed it to him without commenting on the whereabouts of the old one.

Lou disappeared for a few minutes and returned with an object which she handed to Cotton. It was a magnifying glass. “For all that reading,” she said and smiled, and Cotton smiled back. “Thank you, Lou. This way I’ll think of you every time I open a book.” She bought a shawl for Louisa and a straw hat for Eugene. Oz borrowed some money from her and went off with Cotton to browse. When they came back, he held a parcel wrapped in brown paper and steadfastly refused to reveal what it was.

After wandering the town, Cotton showing them things that Lou and Oz had certainly seen before, but Diamond never had, they piled into Cotton’s Oldsmobile, which sat parked in front of the courthouse. They headed off, Diamond and Lou squeezed into the rumble seat while Oz and Jeb rode with Cotton in front. The sun was just beginning its descent now and the breeze felt good to all. There didn’t seem to be anything so pretty as sun setting over mountain.

They passed through Tremont and a while later crossed the tiny bridge near McKenzie’s and started up the first ridge. They came to a railroad crossing, and instead of continuing on the road, Cotton turned and drove the Oldsmobile on down the tracks.

“Smoother than the roads up here,” he explained. “We’ll pick it back up later on. They’ve got asphalt and macadam at the foothills, but not up here. These mountain roads were built by hands swinging picks and shovels. Law used to be every able-bodied man between sixteen and sixty had to help build the roads ten days a year and bring his own tools and sweat to do it. Only teachers and preachers were exempt from having to do it, although I imagine those workers could’ve used some powerful prayers every now and again. They did a right good job, built eighty miles of road over forty years, but it’s still hard on one’s bottom to travel across the results of all that fine work.”

“What if a train comes?” asked an anxious Oz.

“Then I suspect we’ll have to get off,” Cotton said.

They eventually did hear the whistle and Cotton pulled the car to safety and waited. A few minutes later a fully loaded train rolled past, looking like a giant serpent. It was moving slowly, for the track was curvy here.

“Is that coal?” Oz said, eyeing the great lumps of rock visible in the open train cars.

Cotton shook his head. “Coke. Made from slack coal and cooked in the ovens. Ship it out to the steel mills.” He shook his head slowly. “Trains come up here empty and leave full. Coal, coke, lumber. Don’t bring anything here except more bodies for labor.”

On a spur off the main line, Cotton showed them a coal company town made up of small, identical homes, with a train track dead center of the place and a commissary store that had goods piled floor to ceiling, Cotton informed them, because he had been inside before. A long series of connected brick structures shaped like beehives were set along one high road. Each one had a metal door and a chimney with fill dirt packed around it. Smoke belched from each stack, turning the darkening sky ever blacker. “Coke ovens,” Cotton explained. There was one large house with a shiny new Chrysler Crown Imperial parked out front. The mine superintendent’s home, Cotton told them. Next to this house was a corral with a few grazing mares and a couple of energetic yearlings leaping and galloping around.

“I got to take care of some personal business,” said Diamond, already pulling his overall straps down. “Too much soder pop. Won’t be one minute, just duck behind that shed.”

Cotton stopped the car and Diamond got out and ran off. Cotton and the children talked while they waited, and the lawyer pointed out some other things of interest.

“This is a Southern Valley coal mining operation. The Clinch Number Two mine, they call it. Coal mining pays pretty good, but the work is terribly hard, and with the way the company stores are set up the miners end up owing more to the company than they earn in wages.” Cotton stopped talking and looked thoughtfully in the direction of where Diamond had gone, a frown easing across his face. He continued, “And the men also get sick and die of the black lung, or from cave-ins, accidents, and such.”

A whistle sounded and they watched as a group of charcoal-faced, probably bone-tired men emerged from the mine entrance. A group of women and children ran to greet them, and they all walked toward the copycat houses, the men swinging metal dinner pails and pulling out their smokes and liquor bottles. Another group of men, looking as tired as the other, trudged past them to take their place under the earth.

“They used to run three shifts here, but now they only have two,” said Cotton. “Coal’s starting to run out.”

Diamond returned and vaulted into the rumble seat.

“You all right, Diamond?” asked Cotton.

“Am now,” said the boy, a smile pushing against his cheeks, his feline green eyes lighted up.

Louisa was upset when she learned they had gone to town. Cotton explained that he should not have kept the children as long as he had, therefore she should blame him. But then Louisa said she recalled that their daddy had done the very same thing, and the pioneer spirit was a hard one to dodge, so it was okay. Louisa accepted the shawl with tears in her eyes, and Eugene tried on the hat and proclaimed it the nicest gift he had ever gotten.

After supper that night Oz excused himself and went to his mother’s room. Curious, Lou followed him, spying on her brother as usual from the narrow opening between door and wall. Oz carefully unwrapped the parcel he had purchased in town and held the hairbrush firmly. Amanda’s face was peaceful, her eyes, as always, shut. To Lou, her mother was a princess reclining in a deathlike state, and none of them possessed the necessary antidote. Oz knelt on the bed and began brushing Amanda’s hair and telling his mother of their wonderfully fine day in town. Lou watched him struggle with the brushing for a few moments and then went in to help. She held out her mother’s hair and showed Oz how to properly perform the strokes. Their mother’s hair had grown out some, but it was still short.

Later that night Lou went to her room, put away the socks she had bought, lay on the bed fully dressed down to her boots, thinking about their trip to town, and never once closed her eyes until it was time to milk the cows the next morning.