Deep River Burning by Donelle Dreese Page B

ever explored. She reached an open space where down in a large pit sat a bulldozer and other mining equipment familiar to her. The pit began there and went on and on in a wide strip that looked like a knife slice in flesh. The bone marrow is worth money, she thought to herself. It heats the home that holds the human that drinks the water that breathes the air that hates the hole that halts the highway, “I don’t know why she swallowed a fly, perhaps she’ll die,” she sang.
    As she continued her walk, she heard an engine running behind her. She turned around and saw a shiny, red pickup truck moving slowly toward her. She didn’t think much of the truck, but it did seem to get louder or closer, so she turned around again and realized the truck was crawling at a pace not much faster than her own and following her. She didn’t recognize the truck, and she couldn’t see who was driving it. She was just about ready to run into the trees when she heard a voice from the window.
    “Denver? Denver Oakley?”
    “Randy! Damn you, you nearly scared the daylights out of me, crawling up on me that slowly. Don’t you know that I’m a marked woman around here?”
    “A marked woman? How did that happen?” Randy asked.
    “It’s a long story.”
    “Oh, all right. I know most of the story. You’re involved in the relocation project.”
    “Yeah.”
    “Well, that’s what happens when you get involved I guess.”
    “And what happens if you don’t get involved?”
    “You stay out of trouble.”
    “Or you stay in another kind of trouble,” she quickly responded.
    “Want a lift back to town? Hop in,” he said as he leaned over and opened the door for her. Hesitantly, she got into the truck. Randy was a banker in Adena. He was someone she ran into on occasion, but not someone she considered a friend.
    “So, what brings you out here all by yourself?” he asked.
    “I was just going for a walk, to think.”
    “Why would somebody as pretty and sweet as yourself be way out here alone walking and thinking?”
    “Do you have to be nasty and gnarly to walk and think?” she asked with a grin on her face.
    “Ah well, I guess not. Maybe you think too much,” he said with a slight laugh.
    “Well, if I do, I don’t feel bad about it because most people don’t think enough.”
    “I can’t argue with that.” After an awkward pause, he asked, “I hope I am not prying too much, but I was just wondering how you’re doing, meaning after what happened to your parents and all? That’s got to be tough.”
    “It is tough, but I’m fine.”
    “I find that a little hard to believe.”
    “Really. I’m fine.”
    “So what’s the matter?”
    “Oh, just a variety of things . . . nothing I want to talk about.”
    Randy shook his head and looked out the window.
    “It sure would be nice to know what you’re thinking.”
    “Why? I really don’t know you that well, Randy.”
    “Yes, but that would be a way for us to get to know each other.”
    “What do you want to know about me? You know the main aspects of who I am.”
    “Yes, I know all that, but who is Denver really? You show people this strong, self-reliant woman but I haven’t seen what is behind that, what makes you tick.”
    “Well, I don’t mean to disappoint you, Randy, but you probably won’t.”
    “I know what you need,” he said with a grin on his face. He pulled the truck over to the side of the road and went to the back of the truck where he had an ice box. Denver heard the swish and crack of ice adjusting as he came back to the driver’s seat with two beers.
    “Here you go,” he said, handing Denver a Michelob.
    “A beer? You think I need a beer? I don’t drink beer.”
    “You don’t drink beer? Are you serious? What do you drink?” he asked genuinely baffled.
    “Iced tea, coffee, water, juice.”
    “No no, I mean what alcohol do you drink?”
    “I don’t drink alcohol,” Denver replied casually.
    “Really?” He thought about it for moment