Road to Nowhere (26 page)

Louise was looking at him.

Now, a regular vote yes or no was one thing, but just letting the motion die was something else. And Louise was still looking at him.

“Well, I’ll second that,” he said.

Everett was on his feet, but Joe’s stare was enough.

“Just so there’ll at least be a vote,” Randy said.

“That’s a motion and a second. Any discussion?”

“Yes!” Everett said, about to walk up to the podium.

“I’m referring to board members,” Joe said. “We are not receiving public comment at this time.”

“I’ll discuss it,” Louise said, and she locked her eyes right onto Everett Colony. “I’m surprised at all of you.” She went right down the front row, one by one, giving each a good stiff look, for all the world lecturing them like they were misbehaving children and she was their own mother. “The things you all will say! Now, I don’t know what we’re going to do about that road, but Gold Valley should have a vote on it. This is a matter of plain right and wrong, and all of you know it.

“And here’s Mr. Carter, who’s willing to give up his time to be on this board, which I doubt any of you would do. And the things that were said about him this evening.” She gave Richard Colony a specially withering look. “That’s terrible.”

Then she turned to the other board members, and particularly Randy. “Now. I’m expecting this board to be responsible and do what they know is right.”

And that about did it for discussion. Randy wasn’t about to say anything after Louise’s sermon, and Eliza didn’t look like she was ready to break her vow of silence, and Joe wasn’t much for discussing . . . well, he wasn’t looking real well, either. He’d been glum as usual through the evening, and maybe more so, but for the last few minutes he’d just had his own eyes on Stephen Carter there in the audience, and when Louise had said that about doing what they knew was right . . .

That was when Joe had just seemed to cave in.

He hadn’t moved except maybe his expression, and that only a tiny bit, and maybe Randy, being next to him, was the only one close enough to see it. But those words had meant something to him.

“Go ahead, Patsy,” Joe said.

“Mrs. Brown?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Esterhouse?”

“No.”

“Eli—sorry, Joe, what did you say?”

But he’d said it plain and clear. Randy felt his mouth hanging open. Then his brain caught up, at least enough to close his mouth, but not enough to even start trying to work out why in the world . . .

Of all things. What in the world was going through the man’s head? Louise was looking at Joe like he’d turned into a giant turnip.

Joe was looking down at Patsy. “You heard me.”

“Sure, Joe.”

Then Randy realized what it meant, at least as far as he himself was concerned. After Eliza’s no, his own vote wouldn’t matter. The motion was as good as defeated already, and so was Gold River Highway.

He let out a sigh.

“Eliza?” Patsy said.

“I vote yes.”

Randy rubbed his eyes, and looked again, close. He hadn’t got the two of them mixed up. That one was Joe, and that one was Eliza. And now it was Joe’s turn to stare at Eliza.

And Louise was looking at the two of them like she was about to burst out laughing. And then she did.

Randy could only imagine what he was looking like. What in the world? Of all things. It didn’t make a bit of sense. What in the world was going on?

And everyone was back to looking at him!

“Mr. McCoy?”

He was a little too stunned to remember what he was going to do.

“Just a second, there, Patsy,” he said. “I’m trying to work out what’s just happened here.”

The two of them, Joe and Eliza, were both as stock-still as they could be, which for both of them was close to being frozen. Eliza was peaceful and smiling a little, like she was seeing something the rest of them couldn’t.

Joe was haggard and hard and staring at something terrible the rest of them couldn’t see, either.

And then Randy finally looked back around toward the audience and saw Stephen Carter there with his head cocked over a little and looking somewhere between being amused and bewildered. A couple seats over was Everett, but Randy kept from looking there.

What in the world . . . Randy had found his thoughts again and got them back in some sort of order.

Gold River Highway. And that was the most important thing. He could stop it all right here and now.

Do the right thing.
What was the right thing? Was there even right and wrong?

“I’ll vote yes,” he said, before he could stop himself.

“No!” That was Everett.

“Three in favor, one opposed,” Patsy said.

“Motion carries,” Joe said. He looked like someone had just died. “Mr. Carter, congratulations on being appointed to this board. Patsy’ll get you up on things you’ll need to know. Is there anything else? Then this meeting is adjourned.”

And why had he done it? Now Everett and Fred and Richard and everyone were going to be on him. But he couldn’t help himself. It had just been too right a thing to do.

Everett was headed right for him, and several of the other neighbors, as well, and Randy knew what that meant. Real quick he turned to Louise, to try to be in a conversation before they reached him. But Louise was already running over to Eliza. Randy turned to Joe.

Joe still looked fully grieved and unlikely to talk. Randy was just getting ready for the onslaught, though, when Joe suddenly spoke up himself.

“Who owns the land where the road would be built?”

Randy had to think hard a minute, and he let it show. Everett did actually pause, not that Randy let on that he realized the crowd had gathered, just keeping his eyes on Joe.

“I noticed that, Joe, as a matter of fact, just a few weeks ago. It’s a trust, and it’s called—now, let me see—Warrior Land Trust. That’s it.”

Joe didn’t say another word.

“Let me even look that up, downstairs,” Randy said, standing. Joe wasn’t paying attention but Randy pretended he was and left through the side door as busy and official-looking as he could.

“What a night!” Louise didn’t usually keep Byron up after she got home, but this meeting was worth talking about. “That dear Eliza came through, though. I was so proud of her.”

“But Joe voted against the man?”

“He did, and Randy almost fell out of his chair from it.”

“Must have had a reason. You know this man Carter at all?”

“Just a little, but I’m sure he’s fine. I don’t think that was it.”

Byron shook his finger at her. “But he must have had a reason.”

“Well, maybe he did, but if he’s not going to tell anyone, then I’ll just ignore it. He came over to the salon that one day, but you know Joe. He wouldn’t say a thing.”

“If Joe Esterhouse votes against a man, I’d sit up and pay attention.”

“I didn’t even know he was going to. And I’d already voted. And Joe was the one who went out and asked him face-to-face.”

“Must have seen something out there.”

“But he didn’t tell me. Or anyone. I’ll talk to him.” But asking Joe Esterhouse a question like that on the telephone wasn’t going to get much of an answer at all. He’d be a hard enough nut to crack in person. And she was really more feeling excited than worried. “But Eliza came through. What a dear she is. And I’m glad for Steve, too. I’m looking forward to him being on the board.”

“Joe against the man, and that crazy woman for him. Some recommendation, if you ask me.”

“Fool business.”

“Joe.” Rose looked worried as he was. “Call the newspaper reporter and tell him you’ll vote against the new road. He can put it in the newspaper, and then people will know the road won’t get voted for.”

“It wouldn’t be true.”

“It could be. You could vote no.”

“It wouldn’t be right to.”

“Then how will you feel if Stephen Carter is killed?”

“You know how I’ll feel.”

“Is there a right thing to do?” she asked.

“There always is.”

She knew that as well as he did. “Will you talk to Gordon Hite?”

“I don’t think he’s up to this,” Joe said.

That was another problem, something about Gordon and all of this.

“Who, then?” Rose asked.

“State Police. That’s who to call outside of county jurisdiction. State law.”

“Then call them.”

That would be a terrible thing, letting loose a world of commotion, and no stopping it. No telling what would happen.

“I’ll call Marty Brannin in the morning.”

Randy was feeling just worn out. “I was as flabbergasted as I’ve been, and that’s for sure,” he said to Sue Ann over the kitchen table.

“Well, you did the right thing,” she said.

“I hope I did, if there even was a right thing. It seemed mostly like it was two wrong things to choose. Either be outright hateful to that poor Stephen Carter, and unfair to Gold Valley to boot, or else give up the best chance I might have to stop that road. And I dearly want to stop it, Sue Ann.”

“We all do.”

“I know Everett and all the rest are being just hateful themselves, and I think it’s wrong for them to be, but the facts are the facts. Bringing Gold River Highway down into Hemlock is going to ruin this neighborhood, and maybe the whole town.”

“I know it will, Randy.”

Or maybe not. That was part of the problem, really knowing anything for certain. “And I couldn’t vote no. It just wasn’t fair to him, or to Gold Valley. Oh, thank you, dear.”

Sue Ann handed him a nice tall glass of iced tea. She was always so considerate, and the children had learned that from her.

“You’ve got grown men and women,” he said, “standing there talking to the board and saying things they don’t believe for a minute, and we on the board don’t believe them, and everybody knows that nobody believes them.”

Randy leaned his head down and propped it on his hand. It was all so confusing, knowing what to think.

“Sue Ann, sometimes I wonder if anything is really true. Just by itself, not depending on what a person wants. Two plus two is four, and no one argues with that, but when you’re building a road, is there anything that’s true by itself? And is there anything that right or wrong?”

“That’s why they elected you, Randy. Because they trust you to make the right decision.”

“I wonder if I’m very good at that.” He hardly felt strong enough to hold his head back up. “And if I thought I knew anything about anything, I’d have thought Joe would vote for Stephen, and Eliza would vote no like she always does. Now, what do you make of that?”

“You could ask them.”

“I might. And besides Gold River Highway and whether he’s been here long enough and everything, there’s one objection I have against Steve Carter.”

“What, Randy?”

“I just wish his name was something that came after McCoy. Because I’m still in the hot seat casting the last vote on all these things.”

Beneath the stars. Eliza stood listening. Gentle rustling of the wind, furtive movements within the forest.

Deep silence from the mountain.

There was no anger from what had passed that evening. This new man had been brought into the council. The Warrior had allowed him to be; the Warrior would have a purpose.

And it had been strange, as well, that the sheriff had stopped them as they drove into town. Zach had spoken to him for a long time. She knew nothing about how to deal with such people.

“So three to one, and I’m in,” Steve said. “Meet Mr. Supervisor.” What a long, strange trip it had been. But kind of fun to watch.

“I wish I’d been there,” Natalie said.

“You could have brought the kids. That’s all we needed for it to be a complete circus. You could have enjoyed the slandering and maligning of your dear husband. Especially being as callous as I am to snatch Wade Harris’s seat just a month after he died.”

“You didn’t ask to be appointed. Joe Esterhouse asked you.”

“He did.” Steve shook his head. “He was right here, in this house, and he said, ‘I’m wondering if you’d be on the Board of Supervisors.’ Didn’t he? I don’t think I’m making it up.”

“That’s what you told me.”

“And then he votes no, which is bizarre. The one guy I figured was a sure vote, and he says no. Then Eliza Gulotsky, who won’t even vote for the minutes, she votes yes, which is highly bizarre. Then Randy McCoy, who treats me like some kind of trespassing space alien for even being there, he has the last vote, and he votes yes.”

Natalie pushed the cookie jar toward him. It was a very important member of the family, and it lived on the kitchen table, where it could participate fully in household affairs.

He looked inside. “Someday I hope we can get back to oatmeal cookies.”

“Raisins,” she said, “and therefore inedible.”

“But the kids like raisins.” Josie would eat a whole pound if they let her.

“A plain raisin and a raisin in a cookie are entirely different species.”

“It doesn’t make sense.”

“If you want logic,” Natalie said, “read a math book. Don’t ask a four-year-old about cookies.”

Life with preschoolers. “Way more logical than the vote tonight.”

“Are you sure you want to be on this board?” Natalie asked.

“Oh, I guess.” Politics was a whole different world. Life with preschoolers was good training for it. “Probably good experience.” He munched his iced chocolate chip cookie. “I think I want to meet this Jim Ross guy.”

“Have we ever met him?”

“No. But I’d say he knows me pretty well. Impressive experience and education. ‘Highest level of proficiency in the very fields of expertise necessary for service on this board. Highest integrity and character, too.”

Natalie smiled, her little mousy look. “I guess you’re going to believe everything anyone says at these meetings?”

“Sure. Why not? I’m sure that truthfulness and objectivity will be uppermost in every person’s mind.”

“And the common good.”

“Oh, right, I left that out. Truth, objectivity, and the common good. Yeah.” He rubbed his forehead. “What do you think Joe Esterhouse was thinking?”

“I don’t know. I only saw him ten seconds when he was here.”

“I’m just talking to myself. He didn’t say anything to me about why he’d vote no. So that’s going to bother me.”