Montana Standoff (18 page)

 

S
TEVEN SAT OUT
in the sun like Molly suggested and even fell asleep like that after eating Ramalda's bounteous lunch. A nap seemed natural, and his body soaked up the heat of the September sun like it was a kind of medicine. Maybe Molly was right. Maybe it would heal up the bruises and cuts on his face. He'd like that. The idea of attending another public meeting while resembling a slab of roadkill was unappealing, especially since he knew there'd be a lot of press there, eager for more bloody pictures, more front-line stories. And so he sat in the soothing warmth and drifted off to the lulling sounds of the Bow and Arrow, and when he woke it was late afternoon and the sun was westering and Molly wasn't back yet.

He pushed out of his chair and stood and looked over at the place where the old Indian trace came down by the creek. The afternoon was warm and sleepy, redolent of ripe blackberries and freshly mown hay, buzzing with crickets and cicadas. It was beautiful and peaceful, but there was no Molly. They should have been back by now. They should have returned while Ramalda was dishing up the lamb stew and yeast rolls that were his lunch. The boys should have been filling his head with visions of wild stampedes and angry grizzlies. Pony should have been quietly amending their fabrications and helping Ramalda with the evening meal. Caleb should have been expounding on the importance of his keeping that old rifle of Luther's clean and safe. Badger should have been leaning back on the wall bench, working on a fresh chaw of tobacco and ruminating on the days when he was young and the West was still wild.

But the place was as quiet as a tomb, and he cat-footed across the porch and sneaked a peek into the kitchen. Ramalda was slicing big ripe tomatoes into a huge pot on top of the cookstove. Steven watched for a moment, and then back-pedaled onto the porch again and stood looking at the place down by the creek where he knew they would emerge when they came. But where were they? They'd been gone since before sunup, and here it was, late afternoon. This was Molly's first time on a horse, and though he'd tried to warn her, she was of the stubborn persuasion that she could handle anything the Bow and Arrow could hurl at her.

And maybe she could. He wouldn't be the least bit surprised. She was tough and fierce and determined, and could probably hold her own in the midst of a tornado, but dammit, he was worried about her. She'd suffered some rough knocks in the past few days, and…

And what was that? A flash of movement where before there'd been none. A bird flushing out of the brush. A horse down by the pole barn suddenly wheeling about, pricking its ears, and whinnying a plaintive welcome. And yes. Here they came, here at last, one by one, threading slowly through the brush along the creek where the trail merged with the beaten cow paths. The horses had their heads down, weary. The riders…hard to tell. Where was Molly? Steven started down the porch steps and heard movement behind him. Ramalda came out onto the porch, knife in hand, squinting her eyes at the same place he'd been studying for so long.

“Biene,”
she said with a satisfied nod. “They come.”

Steven met them down by the corral. He didn't want to appear as if he'd had anything but the laziest and best
of times. He leaned against the open gate, waiting until they rode their horses into the corral, all of them, and then he closed the gate behind them and walked up to where Molly sat on the small brown gelding. He stopped by her knee, put his hand upon it and felt her muscles quiver. Her eyes locked with his and she leaned ever so slightly over her horse's shoulder.

“Did you see the buffalo?” he said.

Her expression held an emotion he couldn't quite grasp, but he thought that given enough time, and he craved time with Molly more than anything, he could come to know and love every mystery she embodied. “Yes,” she said.

And that was all.

 

A
N HOUR LATER
they had said their goodbyes and were leaving the Bow and Arrow. Steven had enjoyed the stay but was relieved to be leaving, if only because it meant being alone with Molly for the drive back to his place. She curled on the seat beneath a blanket he'd pulled out of the back in deference to the chilly evening. Every once in a while she would shift position slightly and the movement would bring a soft moan of agony. “I don't know how I'm going to make it to work tomorrow,” she said. “You were so right, Steven. Riding up that mountain today was one of the dumbest things I've ever done.”

“But you saw the buffalo.”

She sighed. “When they spotted us they moved away and broke into this strange kind of run. Pony said they didn't like having the horses get too near them. She said if we were in a vehicle we could have gotten closer,
but I thought we were plenty close. They were huge. And then we came back down the mountain.”

“You did well. That was a hard ride.”

“My first and last. And Steven, for future reference, I'll be happy with just those two puppies and the cottage by the river. Forget the horses and the buffalo.” He glanced at her and she caught his eye. “What are you smiling about?”

“I was just wondering. If you weren't an attorney, what would you be?”

“Definitely not a cowgirl,” she responded, flinching as she shifted position. “An architect, perhaps. That was my alternate major, and I actually took a bunch of electives in that field. I'd be designing interesting and unique buildings. On the other hand, maybe I'd be a race-car driver or an astronaut. Then again, I always thought it might be fun to marry a man who was so disgustingly rich that I didn't have to do anything at all but lounge around in expensive clothing, contemplating the next charity fund-raiser or where might be a novel place to summer in Europe.”

“Somehow I can't see you living that way.”

“Neither can I,” she murmured, cautiously propping herself up to look out the window. “So, being that I'm a working girl, Monday I'll go back to work. That is, if I can walk, and if I still have a job.”

“If they were going to fire you, they would have done it on Friday after your statement to the press. But if you had lost your job, would it be the end of the world?”

Molly was silent for a long while, gazing out the side window. “Yes,” she said. “I think it would be devastating to my career to be fired from such a prestigious law firm.”

“Prestigious isn't the word I'd use. You could always resign.”

She shook her head. “I made those damning public statements just to keep my job, which I wouldn't have done if I were going to resign. Yes, they threw me to the wolves, but maybe I deserved it for being so ignorant about the road permitting process. I've learned my lesson. This will blow over, and in a week's time nobody'll even remember what all the fuss was about.”

“What about next time?”

“There won't be any next time.” Molly stared back out the window, her chin lifting in that defiant way.

“You're probably right,” Steven said, wishing he'd never started the conversation that had destroyed her peaceful mood. They drove in silence for a long while, long enough for him to think of a hundred things to say to make her ease back in her seat and relax again, but before he could voice a single one she turned abruptly to face him.

“Steven, if you're so anti-Taintor, Skelton and Goldstein, why won't you talk to me about the lawsuit you brought against the Soldier Mountain mine?”

“Because you still work for Taintor, Skelton and Goldstein, and discussing the Soldier Mountain lawsuit with you would be a definite conflict of interest.”

“Mr. Skelton told me that lawsuit nearly landed you in jail.”

Her unexpected statement caused Steven's grip on the steering wheel to tighten, but he kept his eyes on the road and made no response.

“If I resigned, would you talk to me about it then?”

Steven groped for the right answer, but the right an
swer didn't exist. There was just an ocean of murky gray waves that he couldn't begin to navigate. Her question hung in the air and with each passing mile the silence grew more formidable until finally she curled up again, her back to him, shutting him out. “Well, it doesn't matter, Young Bear. You can keep your all-important secrets forever, because I'm not resigning,” she said.

 

W
ITH EVERY MILE
that brought her closer to her own world, Molly felt the peace she'd experienced at the Bow and Arrow draining out of her. It was late when they reached Steven's place. He parked the Jeep beside Molly's car and cut the ignition. The silence between them filled a universe. Molly could feel her heart beating a rapid, painful cadence in her breast. She drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“For a little while life was perfect, wasn't it?” she said softly.

“Come inside,” Steven said. “I'll make a pot of coffee.”

Molly shook her head. “I have to get going.” She willed herself to move, to get out of the Jeep and leave before she did something weak and silly like break down and cry. She was so tired and discouraged. She reached for the door handle, hoping her legs were up to the task of getting her as far as her car.

“Stay the night.”

Molly felt the tears stinging at the back of her eyes and shook her head. “I can't,” she whispered around the lump in her throat.

“I'll wake you early. You'll be on the road by six and in your office by nine. I promise you will, and I'm a man of my word.”

Molly nodded in the darkness. “I know that,” she said. “But I need to be alone right now to think this through. I'm so confused about us. I don't understand why you would take me to that mine, offer to take me to the reservation, and then slam the door in my face when I want to learn more.” She fumbled for the door handle again and this time she wrenched the door open and got out. Her legs screamed silent protest but they did her bidding. She had her car keys in her hand and was in the driver's seat before Steven could reach her. She turned the key in the ignition as he approached.

“Molly, please don't leave like this.”

“Like what, Steven?” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “Like a woman who's been shut out completely by the man she's hopelessly in love with because he so obviously doesn't trust her?” She shifted into reverse. “How do you expect me to feel?”

He braced his hands on her car door and leaned in her window. “I trust you, Molly, you know I do, but the Soldier Mountain lawsuit isn't about trust. Look at me. You think I had a fun time with those truckers? That's the level of blind rage we're talking about here, and it can get much worse, believe me it can. I don't want anything like that ever happening to you. Don't you understand?”

Molly stared at him, shaken by his words. “Oh, Steven,” she said softly, broken by the passion she saw in him and the realization that he truly cared for her. “Don't
you
understand that everything that happens to you, happens to me, too?” She shifted into first gear and pulled away before he could reply.

T
HE NEXT MORNING
Molly's physical and emotional states were at such an all-time low that not even bright sunshine, multiple cups of strong coffee or the long hot soak in the tub could dispel the aches in her muscles or the black depression that shadowed her as she drove to the office. She half-expected to see someone else's name on her reserved parking sign, and her climb up the granite steps was slow and painful. In her office, she was relieved that everything looked the same. Her pictures still hung on the walls, her books lined the shelves, and her desk was just as she had left it—yet everything felt strangely different. The place had changed somehow.

Or perhaps
she
was the one who had changed. Perhaps the time spent at the Bow and Arrow had altered her perceptions enough to throw her off-balance in a world she thought she knew and understood…and wanted to belong to. She sat down at her desk, placed her briefcase on the floor beside her, and drew a deep, steadying breath. It was exactly 9:00 a.m. If the firm was going to ask for her resignation, it would probably happen today, before the public meeting on Tuesday. That way, Taintor, Skelton and Goldstein could wash their hands of her and present a clean slate to the public on
the New Millennium Mining proposal. Brad had assured her that this would never happen, but…

There was a tap on her door and Jarrod Skelton entered. Molly felt the pressure building beneath her lungs. It was going to happen, then. Skelton rarely arrived at the office before ten. She pushed painfully to her feet and kept one hand on the desk, steadying herself for what was to come. “Good morning, sir,” she said.

“Molly,” he said, closing the door gently behind him. “I wanted to see how you were doing.” His expression was patronizing and sympathetic. “Friday was no doubt a very difficult day for you.”

“Yes, it was.” She wondered if this was leading into something sinister or if he was truly concerned about her welfare. “But I'm doing quite well, thank you.”

Skelton nodded. “I have every confidence that you'll weather this little setback and become a respected member of this law firm.”

“Thank you, Mr. Skelton.” She felt the pressure ease enough to draw a breath. Her job was secure, at least for the time being.

“About the public meeting tomorrow evening. Both Brad and Ken agree that it would be best if you didn't attend, even as an interested spectator. We think a low profile is called for on your behalf, at least for a little while. I have some files you can work on, things to keep you busy….”

Molly nodded. “I understand.” She stood for a few moments after he left her office before lowering herself into her chair. She knew beyond a glimmer of doubt that from this point onward, for as long as she worked in this firm, she would never progress beyond the status of
being Brad's glorified legal assistant. She was still staring into her bleak future when the phone rang. She resented the interruption, but painful moments meant nothing to an office telephone.

“Ferguson,” she snapped.

“Ms. Ferguson, this is Gregory Dehaviland, of Condor International. We spoke briefly last week.”

Surprise and shock rocked her back in her seat. “Yes, Mr. Dehaviland,” she replied, her voice sounding faint to her own ears. “What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you could join me for lunch this afternoon. One o'clock, at the Bistro off Main Street.”

“Here? In Helena?” she blurted, then sagged in her chair. What was the matter with her? The Bistro was in Helena, just off Main Street, not three blocks from the office. Could she have possibly said anything more inane?

“I'm in town for the day and I'd like to meet with you. It will be just the two of us, if that's all right with you.”

“Yes, of course,” Molly said. “I'll be there.” Her hand was trembling as she hung up the phone. Her whole body was trembling. Skelton hadn't fired her, but Gregory Dehaviland would. With a sudden jolt she understood all the stockbrokers who had jumped out their windows when the market crashed back in the twenties. It wasn't just the loss of their fortunes that destroyed all hope of a future, it was the loss of their identities. Molly groaned. She was being foolish. If Dehaviland wanted her fired, he certainly wouldn't dirty his own hands with the task. No, this was about something else, so instead of jumping out her second-story office window and perhaps breaking her leg, she'd meet him for lunch and find out just what it was.

 

T
HE
B
ISTRO WAS ALWAYS BUSY
for lunch because the food was great, the service excellent, and businesspeople appreciated the fact that they could dine within their time allotments and not feel pressured. Molly arrived a little early and was shown to a table overlooking the garden courtyard. The maître d' seated her and took her drink order, Perrier with lime. She was so nervous she'd have preferred a gin and tonic, but she wasn't about to cross any lines with the CEO of Condor International. She hadn't been seated more than five minutes before Dehaviland arrived, and she had no problem whatsoever identifying him the moment he stepped into the establishment.

It wasn't the way he was dressed, for he was very casually attired in tan chinos and a dark green flannel shirt. It was the way he carried himself, with the extreme self-assurance of a very accomplished and powerful man. He was shown to her table even as she struggled painfully to her feet, and his handshake was firm and brief.

“Thank you for joining me,” he said after introducing himself, and to the hovering maître d', “I'll have my usual.”

“You come here often, then,” Molly said, inwardly wincing as soon as the words passed her lips. So far she hadn't said one single intelligent thing to this man.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. That's why I'm so interested in New Millennium's proposal.” He had very keen eyes behind the horn-rimmed glasses. Neatly trimmed salt- and-pepper hair. Clean-shaven, tanned complexion, very outdoorsy looking, almost as if he could have come straight from herding buffalo on the Bow and Arrow. “I
saw the Friday edition of the newspaper. Quite a front-page story you gave them.”

Molly felt the heat creep into her cheeks. “I'm sorry. I certainly didn't mean to cast a disparaging light on New Millennium.”

“No apologies necessary, Ms. Ferguson. I may only have been CEO for a year, but I've been with the company for two decades and I'm fully aware of how mining companies and law firms operate, which is another reason why I'm here. How long have you known Ken Manning?”

His directness was unsettling. “Less than two weeks,” she replied.

“I see.” A server delivered his drink, what looked like scotch on the rocks, and he lifted it for a taste. “You must have thought you were going to be fired after all that hoopla. Why didn't you resign?”

“I need the job,” Molly replied without hesitation, because it was the truth and because her dander was up. “And besides, I—” Molly stopped abruptly. She took a sip of water to give herself time to collect her thoughts. “I've always tried to do my best, sir. This road-permitting mistake that I made—”

Dehaviland held up his hand, cutting her off. “I think we both know that you had nothing to do with that,” he stated briskly. “Let's minimize what happened, fix the mistakes, and move on. Bottom line, I want to change things around here. I want us to begin a positive relationship with the environmental agencies and the public. I want the image of the heartless, powerful oil-and-mining conglomerates to end with the examples that Condor International sets. I want to lead the indus
try into a new age of cooperation, compromise, and communication.”

Molly took another sip of her water, hoping her outward demeanor remained calm because his unexpected declaration had rendered her speechless.

“And I want it to begin right here, right now, with this New Millennium project,” Dehaviland continued. He leaned forward on his elbows, his expression animated. “There were two sites originally proposed for the New Millennium mine, one on Madison Mountain outside of the town of Moose Horn, and the other about thirty miles to the west, a place called Butte Mountain, which is located on privately owned property just outside the national forest. Butte Mountain's ore samples actually assayed out richer than Madison Mountain, but the problem was the price of the property. The landowner wouldn't accept our offer, so we filed the claim on Madison Mountain. All of this happened prior to my being named CEO of Condor International.”

“I see.”

“The test drilling and road construction at the Madison Mountain site has run into a great deal of money.”

“I'm sure it has.” Molly nodded.

“The board members want to keep on with the project, but I'm trying to convince them that it would be a wiser move at this point to purchase Butte Mountain outright.”

The server reappeared to take their order. Molly hadn't even glanced at the menu. “I'll have a house salad, dressing on the side,” she said.

“I'll have my usual,” Dehaviland repeated, and the server bowed away. “The problem is, not only is the
Butte Mountain purchase price high, but we've already invested heavily in the Madison Mountain site.”

Molly cleared her throat. “But, sir, the claims filed on Madison Mountain are all perfectly legal, and the permitting process is well underway.”

“That doesn't change the fact that those claims are smack-dab in the center of a beautiful national forest, and that Madison Mountain's watershed does indeed flow into the Yellowstone River. Yes, the assay reports were glowing, but is it worth situating an open pit mine in such an environmentally sensitive place, especially in light of the bad publicity we've just been swamped with?”

“Well, sir…”

Dehaviland reached into his shirt pocket and withdrew a folded map, which he spread out on the table. “Okay, this is how things stand. Here's the Yellowstone,” he said, tracing the river toward its headwaters in Yellowstone Lake. “Here's Yellowstone National Park. Here's the proposed mine on Madison Mountain. And over here—” he slid his finger to the west and stopped with an emphatic jab “—Butte Mountain. No major watersheds nearby, no natural scenic wonders, no national forest surrounding it, and no Yellowstone National Park. Good, established roads access the mountain from two directions, here and here.” He leaned back, lifted his drink for a swallow, and eyed her appraisingly.

Molly met his gaze. “Mr. Dehaviland, why are you telling me this?”

“As you're aware, there's a public meeting tomorrow night in Bozeman regarding the New Millennium project, and after all the publicity it's gotten, I'm sure the meeting will be well attended.”

“Yes, but I've been taken off the project. I'm no longer Brad's assistant, and I've also been informed I can't attend the public meeting.”

“Ms. Ferguson, believe it or not,” Dehaviland said, “I have the power to change all that.”

Molly shook her head. “Sir, I don't understand why you'd bother. I'm the least experienced attorney at Taintor, Skelton and Goldstein, and right now my reputation is less than sterling.”

“True, but you can still make miracles happen. You can talk to Steven Young Bear. He'll listen to you.” He leaned forward again, drink cradled in his hands. Hands which were masculine and strong, not at all the pale, soft hands one would expect of a corporate executive. “I'd like the two of you to work together to broker a deal between Condor International and the people who want to protect Madison Mountain.”

“What kind of a deal?”

“We sell the patented claims on Madison Mountain to one of Young Bear's environmental land trusts for two million dollars.”

Molly blinked. “Do you honestly think raising that kind of money is doable for a bunch of blue-collar workers?”

Dehaviland nodded. “I also think it's the only way I can push this idea to the board of directors. By selling the mining claim for that price, we'll recoup everything invested up to date and be able to meet the Butte Mountain purchase price.”

“How long would they have to raise the money?”

“Six months. That gives them all winter. Young Bear could probably swing it in half that time. He knows his stuff and he's good at what he does.”

The server came and silently slid Molly's salad in front of her. Dehaviland's plate held a thick turkey club. He plucked the two toothpicks from either half and laid them aside. “So, what do you say?” he said, startling her yet again.

She picked up her fork and held it poised over her salad, eyebrows drawing together. “You're doing all this just for good publicity?”

Dehaviland picked up one half of the sandwich and a faint grin accompanied his keen glance. “Not quite.” With his free hand he shifted the map so she could see it better and traced his finger once again along the river. “Here's Yellowstone Lake, Yellowstone National Park, and the Yellowstone River flowing south into the Missouri.” He glanced up. “Did you know the Yellowstone is the longest river without a dam obstructing it in the United States? I also happen to think it's one of the most beautiful as well.” His eyes dropped back to the map. “Here's where the river passes through the Madison Mountain watershed and here—” his finger glided to a stop along a seemingly empty stretch “—here's where my cabin's located. I've been going there since I was a boy. When my grandparents died, they left the place to me, and over the years I think I've spent more hours fly-fishing on the Yellowstone than I have sitting in corporate boardrooms. Believe it or not, Ms. Ferguson, I love that river, and I'll help in any way to keep it just the way it is.” He took a bite of sandwich and raised his eyebrows. “Does that explain things to your satisfaction?”

Dazed, Molly nodded. “Yes, sir. I'll do everything I can to help.”