Gray Mountain

“So you’re staying here?”

“If that’s possible.”

“For how long?”

“There are three things I want to do. The most important client is the Ryzer family. I feel like I’m needed there, and I can’t just up and leave them in a few months. They’re vulnerable right now, and for some reason they think I can help. I’ll do the best I can. I like the idea of handling the Tate appeal, from start to finish. Lisa Tate needs us. The poor woman is living on food stamps and still grieving. I want to win the appeal and get her the money she deserves. And by the way, I think 40 percent is too much for Donovan’s estate. He may have earned that money, but he’s gone now. Lisa lost her boys; Donovan did not. With that set of facts, a lot of lawyers could have won the case. I guess we can discuss it later.”

“I’ve had the same thought.”

“During my second year of law school, we had to do a mock appellate case; write the briefs and argue before a three-judge panel, really just three law professors, but they were notorious for grilling the students. Oral argument was a big deal—coats and ties, dresses and pumps, you know?”

Mattie was nodding and smiling. “We did the same thing.”

“I guess all law students suffered through it. I was so nervous I couldn’t sleep the night before. My co-counsel gave me a Xanax two hours before the argument, but it didn’t help. I was so stiff I could barely utter the first word, then something strange happened. One of the judges hit me with a cheap shot, and I got mad. I began arguing with him. I unloaded case after case to support our position and really blasted the guy. I forgot about being scared—I was too focused on showing this judge how right I was. My ten minutes flew by, and when I sat down everybody just stared at me. My co-counsel leaned over and whispered one word: ‘Brilliant.’

“Anyway, it was my finest moment in law school, one I’ll never forget. Which is to say, I’d love to take the Tate case all the way to the Supreme Court of Virginia, present the oral argument, make fools out of the lawyers for Strayhorn Coal, and win the case for Lisa Tate.”

“Go girl. It’s all yours.”

“So that’s eighteen months, right?”

“Something like that. You said there were three things you want to do.”

“The third is simply to finish the cases I have, take some new ones as they come along, and try to help our clients. And in doing so, I’d like to spend more time in the courtroom.”

“You have a flair for it, Samantha. It’s pretty obvious.”

“Thank you, Mattie. That’s very kind. I don’t like being shoved around by the Trent Fullers of the world. I want respect, and the only way to get it is to earn it. When I walk into a courtroom, I want all the boys to sit up straight and notice, and not just my ass.”

“My, my, haven’t we come a long way?”

“Yes, we have. Now, about this internship. If I’m spending the next two years here, I need some sort of a salary. Not much, but something I can live on.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. We can’t quite match your guy up in New York, but we can do okay for rural Virginia. A

“Forty might cause a little resentment from you know who.”

“A

“Yes. Let’s go with thirty-nine.”

“We can do thirty-nine. Deal.” Mattie thrust her hand across the table and Samantha shook it. She picked up Andy’s e-mail and said, “Now I need to get rid of this jerk.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Thankfully, there are dozens of nonprofits working diligently in the coalfields to protect the environment, change policy, and fight for the rights of miners and their families. One is the Appalachian Citizens’ Law Center in Whitesburg, Kentucky. Mary Cromer and Wes Addington are wonderful lawyers there, and they provided guidance as I wandered through their region for the first time. Appalachian Voices is a feisty, grassroots environmental group out of Boone, North Carolina. Matt Wasson is its Director of Programs and was a great resource as I searched for facts.

Thanks also to Rick Middleton, Hayward Evans, Wes Blank, and Mike Nicholson.