Page 105 of Crystal Iris
“Thanks.”
I look around the room. I haven’t been here yet. Hoyt’s wooden desk is across from the window, where two brown leather chairs sit. Like every room in this house, there’s a stone fireplace. I wonder what Montana’s winters are like. A large map of the country fills an entire wall. Red pins mark certain locations.
“What’s with the pins?” I ask.
“Our lands. My lands. Dad used to teach me where they were with the map.”
I eye the pins, taking in the immense amount of territory he owns.
“That’s a lot of land,” I say to him.
“Yeah. It’s a lot of headache too.”
“You seem… stressed. Let me help.”
He motions for me to sit down. “Iris, you’re here to relax, remember?”
“Hoyt, please. I want to help… help you.”
He takes another look at me and hands me a stack of papers.
“Fine. Can you read these and let me know if I should sign them or not?”
“What? How would I know?”
“I trust your judgment.”
I take the papers from his hand. “Okay.” I sit down in the leather chair by the window.
I read the papers while Hoyt works on the computer, stepping in and out of the room to make phone calls.
I realize the extent of his responsibilities as I read the contract in front of me. APL wants his permission to lay pipelines in a certain section of his territory, and if he says yes, the people who live on the edge of it will have to move—people I assume don’t have anywhere else to go, people who don’t know what rights theyhave. Nonetheless, the pipeline is supposedly a necessity for the nearby town.
I’m almost halfway done reading when he asks me to take a break for dinner.
I walk to the kitchen when he says, “Let’s eat outside. You can show me what the prism does with the dirt.”
We take our pasta bowls to the grass by the water behind his house. He spreads out a blanket, and we sit there, eating and talking.
“This is delicious, thank you,” I tell him.
“My pleasure. I prefer to cook when I’m not eating alone.”
“The pipeline—what do you want to do?” I ask him.
“I don’t know. It’s not the first time I’ve had to make this kind of call. Only, I don’t know who to trust, who’s telling the truth, and who benefits from me saying yes or no.”
“You don’t have anyone to advise you?”
“I do, but they always push for what makes me money. That’s what they did with my dad. I worry they’re not considering the human lives. I’ve made… mistakes before.”
“We could go there tomorrow and see it in person, who lives there,” I say, twisting my fork.
He chews his food and says, “I’m usually advised to stay away.”
“I think it’s worth seeing it for yourself.”
“You don’t mind coming along?”
