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Authors: Paul Robertson

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“More than usual, you mean?” Corny said.

“Way more. I’ve never heard Charlie that out of control.” Supper and then bed. He could sleep twelve hours. “He wanted me to bribe Louise for her vote on the road.”

“Louise?”

“Yeah. Louise. As if she’d even know what a bribe is. Hey, what’s that cooking?”

“Stroganoff.”

“So when I say I won’t talk to her, Charlie wants her number.”

“No. Really?”

“Really. Try to picture Charlie Ryder sweet-talking Louise.” He did have to try. “Can you even imagine that?”

“I don’t know her as well as you do.”

“It doesn’t take long. Unless you’re Charlie. He’d never figure her out.” He was hungry, he was tired, his brain was spinning too fast from the whole long day. “People really are different here, Corny.”

“You’ve said that a lot.”

“Yeah, I guess. But this afternoon, talking to Charlie, and then I called Joe Esterhouse. Night and day. Or compared to Louise, either. Or even to Randy. Charlie and I go way back, but I’m getting real fed up with him. He’s such a slimeball.”

“Then wash your hands, Wade, because dinner is served.”

Byron was just staring at his dinner plate, and then up at her.

“What’s come over you?” he said.

“Nothing’s come over me. They’re turnips.”

“I can see they’re turnips.”

“People have turnips for dinner all the time. Why shouldn’t we?”

He was back staring at them. “I had my fill of turnips when I was a boy and we couldn’t afford better.”

“You can eat your roast plain, or you can eat it with turnips. It doesn’t matter a bit to me what you do.”

“I don’t know what’s come over you. Everybody’s acting senseless.”

“What? Did somebody try to feed you turnips at lunch today?”

“Of course not. It was Mr. Coates.”

“Mr. Coates being senseless?” She was feeling a little sorry for him. He
had
been worrying so much over the furniture factory. “Has something else happened?”

“No, it’s not that, and he’s not being senseless, not Mr. Coates. But he came up to me today, right out on the floor, and it wasn’t even break or lunch time, and he said, ‘Byron, what do you hear about this road over the mountain, out to the interstate?’ ”

“Gold River Highway? Why was he talking about that?”

“That’s what I mean, people are acting strange. I said, ‘Well, I hadn’t thought about it much, to tell the truth,’ and he said, ‘Then let me tell you, Byron, that road’s important. You be thinking about it.’ And then he turned right around and was back in his office. Now, what do you make of that?”

Louise just shook her head. “I couldn’t guess. Did he talk to anybody else about it?”

“Not that I saw, and I would have. No, it was just me.”

“Well, Byron, you’ve been there as long as anybody. Maybe he really wants to know what you think, just like he said.”

“Then that would be the first time,” Byron said. And he’d gone and eaten half the mess of turnips without even noticing.

April 21, Friday

Knock on the door.

“That’ll be him,” Joe said. He took himself out to the front door. Sun pouring through it. “Afternoon, Marty. You come on in.”

“Hi, Joe. Thanks.” Marty Brannin followed him back to the kitchen. “Well, hello, Miss Rose.”

“Good afternoon, Marty,” she said. “That’s been a long drive for you today from Raleigh. And you aren’t even home yet.”

“At least I’m back in the mountains. I just thought I’d stop in here to talk a little before I got back to the house.”

“I appreciate that,” Joe said. They sat at the table and Rose was at the stove with a pot of stew.

“I can’t even think of the last time I was sitting at this table,” Marty said. “Must be ten years.”

“Not much has changed,” Rose said, and Marty laughed.

“And that’s a good thing,” he said. “Oh, look at that!”

He’d caught sight of the cherry pie Rose had cooling by the window.

“We’ll be expecting you to have a piece,” Rose said.

“I won’t even be polite and pretend to say no,” Marty said. “I’d love it. I’ve been smelling it since I came in. It just took me a minute to find it.”

They sat there a few minutes more. Rose served them each a piece of the pie and Marty gobbled his down.

“I skipped lunch,” he said partway through, and, “Best pie in the state,” when he was finished.

Rose thanked him for the compliment, and Joe allowed himself a smile. Rose wouldn’t put much store in a politician’s flattery.

Then it was time for business. Marty shook his head.

“Well, Joe, it’s a mess there in the statehouse. I’m afraid I still can’t give you much of an answer about your road, and I’ve got a lot more questions myself now. But I’ve dug out a few things and I’ll give you the short version of it all.”

“That’s all I’d want.”

“Even the short version’s not real short. I started by asking how that grant got stuck in the Clean Air Act. There’s supposed to be a revision trail so you can answer questions like this. Well, I’ve been through the Commerce Committee to the Technology and Communications

Committee to the Energy Committee to the Transportation Committee, and right back from there to where I started.

“Anyway, there’s this section on research on improving roads to reduce emissions and travel time and congestion. And that’s where the funding for this grant was.”

“Not much congestion around here.”

“That’s what I would have said. Of course this bill doesn’t mention Gold Valley or Wardsville, just the list of qualifications for the project— which is what got you wondering. I’ve never seen anything like it on any transportation funding.

“So I found where the committee reviewed one version of the bill without this specific project, and then later when they voted on it, the section had just sort of magically been added. It was finally the Transportation Committee chairman who remembered anything, and he said he thought it was a request from the Appropriations Committee. And there are eighteen people on the Appropriations Committee, and that’s the biggest snake pit of the whole House.”

A fool mess, and just what anyone could expect from that bunch in Raleigh. “This kind of thing happen very often there?” Joe asked.

“I don’t think so. But I guess I don’t know. I’ve been there twenty years and I haven’t ever seen it done this particular way. But now that I have, I can see how someone could get away with it. It wouldn’t work with an interstate or U.S. route, because the federal government would have to get involved. Even state roads would be more complicated. But county roads are under all those radars. The only catch is you—your Board of Supervisors has to approve it if it’s a county road.”

“I suppose they expected that wouldn’t be a problem.”

“I bet they’d already investigated you and Wade and Mort and decided they’d have a majority. It looks to me like someone’s been through all the angles on this deal.”

“So who would that be, Marty?”

“Right. Someone with some clout in Appropriations. That’s the short answer. That narrows it down to five or six of the eighteen.”

“I’d still be interested to know who it was.”

“The next step is getting to the clerk of the Appropriations Committee and digging around a little.”

“That’ll be up to you.”

“Well, Joe, that’s why I thought I’d stop in for a visit. Part of me wants to follow this through, sort of on general principles. I’m long past trying to clean up the muck at the statehouse, but I still think people shouldn’t get away with tricks like this. There should be a bit of a fuss, at least.

“But, it’s going to take time, and I’ll probably have to assign somebody specifically to do the digging, and I don’t know if it’s really worth the effort when there’s so much else that needs to get done.”

Marty stopped and squinted his eyes and gave Joe a look. “So I thought I’d ask you.”

And Joe took his time to think about that. “I think I’d rather you did, Marty.”

“Now, that’s interesting. We both know that this road is somebody’s underhanded little project, but of course most roads are. And I hear there’s a fight brewing in Wardsville over the final vote. But even knowing all that, I’d still expect you to just shrug and let it work itself out. Sure, you might call me about it, like you did. But at this point you’d say,
Never mind
. Is there something else? Besides all the usual Raleigh antics?”

Joe took his time to answer that, too. “That might be.”

“With you, that means yes, but you don’t want to tell me yes.”

Joe smiled a little. “That might be.”

“Then I’ll just be quiet and do as I’m told. But are there any clues that would make it easier for me?”

“There’s a man on the board, name of Wade Harris, and he works for a developer who’s building all the houses up in Gold Valley. Charlie Ryder, he says, in Raleigh. Now, you know developers. Wade says this Charlie Ryder is sure wanting the road built. Enough that Wade got suspicious and asked me to make some calls.”

“Charlie Ryder. I’ll look him up. But even if he is, is that what you’re looking for?”

“I have a thought, and it’s bothering me.” He had to stop, to decide what to say. “I don’t care much to know who’s behind the road or how they pulled their tricks or what they even want from it.

“Marty, if you can find who’s behind this road, I just want to know one thing.” Rose had turned around from the stove to listen. “I want to know if they’re evil.”

April 25, Tuesday

“I did it.”

Cornelia looked up from the sofa. “What?”

“I quit.” Wade dropped his briefcase by the front door and then himself onto the sofa next to her. Corny waited for him to stop moving.

“Tell me what happened,” she said.

“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know why. Charlie called and we screamed at each other like usual. But this time . . . I don’t get it.”

“I’ll just sit here and listen,” Cornelia said. “And I’ll let you know if I figure out what you’re saying.”

“Okay. This is what he said. He wants to know who’s buying the furniture place. I said I didn’t know, I’d call this Coates guy and ask. No. We can’t let him know it’s Charlie trying to find out. He asked if I could break in.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. That’s what he said. So when I told him to forget it, he said he’ll make his own offer for the building.”

“Now you’re kidding.”

“No.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he wants to develop it into a shopping center. It’s the wrong location and it’s too small. I don’t know. But it sounded like someone is pushing him.”

“Pressuring him?”

“Yeah. The way he was talking. So I asked him why he wanted to know, and he wouldn’t tell me. So I told him I’d quit if he didn’t tell me what was going on, and he still didn’t. So I quit.”

“This is for real?” Corny said.

“Yes. It is. I’m not putting up with this anymore. Charlie doesn’t believe me, but I don’t care. I told him end of May. June first, I’m out of that office.”

“What will you do, Wade?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything! But it sure feels great.” Maybe
great
wasn’t the right word. “Let me just sit. I think I’ve blown a fuse.”

“Everything will be okay.”

He could even close his eyes. “Sure, it’s okay. Now I need a job.” He did close his eyes. “So what do I want to do when I grow up?”

“When would you ever grow up?”

April 28, Friday

“I think we’re half done, at least.” Randy had to stand and stretch, with his back sore from hunching over the table all afternoon and his eyes seeing spots from looking at page after page of the tax ledger book.

“We’ll finish Monday,” Patsy said. She looked a bit bleary herself.

“I suppose most counties do it all with their computers, but it’s not really that much work for just twice a year. And someday we’ll foreclose on some of these. When did the county ever do that last?”

“Eight years ago, we had a lawyer do all the work. Most of them paid and the county only closed on fifteen or so, and it hardly covered what the lawyer cost.”

“That doesn’t surprise me a bit.

He was still standing and thinking it would be so much nicer if Patsy at least had a window down here in the middle of the courthouse basement, when a cloud covered her door.

“Look at you, Randy!”

“We’re just finishing for the afternoon, Luke.”

“Everybody pay their taxes this year?”

“Almost,” he said. “Just a few, like always.”

Luke settled himself onto the desk, right in the middle of all their work. “Here it is, sort of ironic. You make up this list every six months of all the unpaid property taxes in the county and publish it in my newspaper. So the more that haven’t paid, the bigger the advertisement you have to buy, and the more I get out of it. And here I am, hoping nobody pays their taxes, because that gives me the biggest ad.”

“Then we wouldn’t have any money to buy the ad,” Randy said.

“But you have to. It’s state law. Maybe I’d give you a hardship discount.”

“Well, it’s not likely, anyway, as most people do pay.” Randy sat back into his chair, and Patsy stood up.

“What about the Trinkles?” Luke asked. “They paid up this time?”

“They’re not on the list so far, so I guess we haven’t got to them yet. It’ll be a lot, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, Luke. It’s been years since they paid. Isn’t that what you were asking?”

But Luke didn’t seem to quite catch what Randy meant. “Nothing,” he finally said. “Just wondering.”

“And what I’m wondering is,” Randy said, “are you here for any good reason, or just being nosy?”

“Part of each. I wanted to see if you were about done with that.”

“Monday.”

“That’ll be fine. It helps to have some time, since it takes me a while to set it. And as long as I’m being nosy,” Luke said, “I’m counting a few noses. What’s the latest with all of you on Gold River Highway?”

“Now, Luke! That’s the last thing I want to talk about.”

“It’s not the last you will hear about it. I’m just keeping the public informed.”

“Keeping the public inflamed.”

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