The Angels' Share (The Bourbon Kings #2) - J. R. Ward Page 0,52
our way first,” Georgetow joked. “You and your good wife are both alumni, after all.”
The reverend lifted his coffee cup. “That goes without saying. I bleed red first and foremost.”
“Boys, boys, you’re in mixed company here.” Sutton pointed to herself and then turned to the governor. “And finally, I would like to make a gift to the state in my father’s name.”
Dagney smiled. “I will accept anything—”
“I purchased thirty thousand acres in eastern Kentucky this afternoon.” The governor stiffened in his chair. “You … you were the one.”
“Four mountain ranges. Four beautiful, pristine mountain ranges—”
“That were on the verge of being strip-mined.”
“I would like to give them to the Commonwealth in my father’s name and endow the acreage as a park that will be forever wild.”
Dagney actually looked down at the table for a moment. “This is …”
“My father has hunted all his life. Deer. Dove. Duck. His favorite thing was to get out and be in the natural environment. There is meat in my freezer right now that he brought home to his family, and I grew up eating what he provided us. He can’t … he is not able to do that anymore, but I assure you, his heart is still out in those woods.”
Mountaintop removal was an efficient and cost-effective way of accessing the coal so frequently found in the hills in the eastern counties of the Commonwealth. And the coal industry employed many people in areas that were so poor, families starved in the winter and couldn’t get good health care. She understood all of that reality; the coal industry was a complicated issue that wasn’t as simple as it being environmentally evil. But her father did love the land, and this way she knew at least those four mountains would remain exactly as they had been for millennia.
And actually, she had negotiated with the seven families who owned the land over a period of months—and even with the millions and millions she had given them, it was nothing compared to what the coal companies had offered. But the owners had wanted exactly what she had promised to give them in addition to the cash—and she was making good on it right now.
Forever wild. Forever as the good Lord made ’em, as her father, Reynolds, would say.
“So,” she said with a smile, “do you think the state will pay for a plaque if I give you all those acres?”
Dagney leaned over to her and touched her arm. “Yes, I believe that can be arranged.”
For a moment, she could have sworn that his eyes lingered on her lips—but then she thought, no, she had imagined it.
Damn you, Edward.
The party broke up shortly after that, with Georgetow leaving with a five-million-dollar check in his pocket and the reverend with an appointment with her lawyers.
Dagney stayed behind as the others went down the front walkway, got into their cars, and drove off.
“So,” she said as she turned to him. “It’s going to be hard for me to follow this up with any kind of encore.”
“Your family has always been so generous, both here in Charlemont and in the Commonwealth at large.”
Sutton watched the last set of brake lights fade down the hill. “It’s not to be grand. Not in this case with me and my father. I’ve got all this … emotion … and I have to do something with it. I can’t hold it inside, and there’s nothing to really say about the feelings because they’re too much to …” She touched her sternum. “They’re too much here.”
“I know exactly how that is.” Dagney’s face got tight. “I’ve walked that path myself.”
“My father hasn’t died yet, but I feel like I’m losing him by inches.” She focused on the treetops off in the distance, measuring the curving outline of where the fluffy branches met the velvet darkness of the night sky. “Seeing him diminish further day by day isn’t just about the current suffering. It’s a reminder of the pain that’s coming when he dies, and I hate that … and yet every moment counts with him now. He’s as good as he’s going to be right this moment.”
Dagney closed his eyes. “Yes, I remember how that is. I’m so sorry.”
“Well.” She wished she hadn’t been so open. “I didn’t mean to go on.”
“Talk as long as you like. Sometimes it’s the only way you stay in your own skin. Being the one left behind is a special kind of hell.”