Tainted Mountain (13 page)

Twenty

Nora stared at the
gnarled metal that used to be the lift house, now drenched in water from the firefighters' hose. The grass and topsoil around the lift base washed away, leaving a red and muddy sludge of rocks and cinder. The cables weighted down with bent and twisted chairs eventually rose to the next pole, heading up the mountain into the gray dawn. The lift house sat as a bent shell, blackened with soot.

Abigail shoved a steaming cup of coffee under Nora's nose. Nora couldn't think what to do with it.

Abigail picked up Nora's hand and wrapped it around the cup. “Drink this, dear. It will help.”

Help what? It wouldn't rebuild the lift or save them from Big Elk and his gang. She longed to feel Scott's arms around her, let his warmth reassure her. The last bit of blood drained from her heart, knowing even if he were still alive, Scott probably wouldn't be here with her.

Abigail stepped back. She might have jumped to Tibet for all Nora knew or cared; she couldn't pull her eyes from the wreckage and her vision narrowed to block everything else.

The police had scrambled over the area, taking notes, asking her questions, and stringing yellow crime scene tape.

Cole had answered the police's questions but asked a lot more. He finally tromped into the forest, grumbling about incompetent police investigations. The cops left awhile ago. Now the mountain rested in early morning silence.

“Those sons of bitches.” Nora suddenly shouted, feeling some life at the echo of her words on the mountain.

“Nora, language.” Armageddon could strike and Abigail would demand good manners and linen napkins on her luncheon table.

Nora at last turned to look at Abigail and was shocked out of her stupor. Abigail stood next to Charlie, wrapped in his army jacket. It enveloped her so she looked like a camo version of SpongeBob SquarePants. Her hair and makeup, of course, were perfect.

Charlie appeared scruffier than usual, probably because he'd hurried over when he heard the explosion and hadn't had time to supply his jacket with beer. “This is not cool,” he said.

“We can't stand around here all day staring at this mess.” Abigail took her all-business tone. “I'll fix some breakfast while you shower and dress. You'll feel better.”

“No, Mother. I don't think putting on a happy face is going to fix this.”

“For heaven's sake, of course not. But action is better than moping around.”

Charlie rubbed his hands together. “Breakfast with you two lovely ladies would be the highlight of my life.”

Abigail huffed in disgust.

“You go ahead. I'll be right up,” Nora said.

“You're just saying that to make me go away.” Nothing escaped Abigail. She sighed in an injured way. “Stay out here staring at the ruin all day then. I am going to behave in a civilized fashion.” She stomped toward the lodge.

Charlie put a hand on Nora's shoulder. “Do you want to be alone with your thoughts?”

The old rascal couldn't wait to go after Abigail. “Go get some breakfast.”

“I could stay with you.”

“Better take advantage of this opportunity. Breakfast is her best meal.”

Charlie bowed as he backed away. “It's not just the food, you know. I'd eat sand if she prepared it for me.”

“She's so mean to you. Why do you adore her?”

Charlie's eyes got a soft, faraway look. “You think she's all sharp angles and cold surfaces. But I see the light in her eyes that opens the way to a loving heart.”

Nora blew air out her mouth. “Come on.” She changed the subject to what really nagged. “Don't you think it's suspicious that Cole is always around when something bad happens?”

Charlie's eyes lost their floating quality and sharpened. “You noticed he's hanging around?”

“Here's the thing: You and Abigail act like he's this great Wyoming guy. But he works for Barrett. He's against snow making but for uranium mining. Sort of, I guess. And I swear I heard him and Barrett planning to bribe congressmen.”

“Bribery, huh?”

“He's full of contradictions. I don't think we can trust him.”

For a moment Charlie looked like a general planning strategy. Then he glanced at Nora and a lopsided grin crept onto his face. “You coming to breakfast, darlin'?”

Nora shook her head then watched his lurching gate as he hurried across the grass to the lodge. Even Charlie, her one constant, seemed off his norm.

The rumble of an engine brought Nora back to the mountain. Barrett's black Mercedes slid on the cinders. The slamming door rebounded around the empty forest. With powerful strides, Barrett hurried up the trail and across the slope.

Maybe he'd been her idol for years when she thought he was the compassionate entrepreneur; now she knew him for a controlling jerk.

“What the hell happened here?” Barrett bellowed.

“When the spaceship landed, it crushed the lift.”
Ask a stupid question …

He glared at her. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

Irritation blasted into her brain. “Someone blew up my lift to stop snow making. My mother and I could be the next target. That's not a real knee-slapper.”

An angry storm clouded Barrett's face as he focused on the smoking debris. “This is the work of cowards. Surely you aren't in any physical danger.”

“Thanks for the words of comfort.”

Footsteps crunched in the cinders behind Nora. “Good morning, Barrett. Isn't this awful?” Abigail said.

Like an eraser on a schoolroom chalkboard, Barrett wiped anger from his face and replaced it with sorrow. “Despicable. I'm just glad you and Nora weren't injured.”

Abigail pshted as if it were a silly idea. “Oh I'm sure we aren't in any danger. Cowards did this and they wouldn't dare mess with me and Nora physically.”

Déjà vu or simply hell?

Charlie sauntered up behind Abigail and she looked surprised, as if he hadn't been at her side all morning. She shrugged out of his jacket and shoved it at him.

“How was breakfast?” Nora asked Charlie.

His adoring gaze never drifted from Abigail. “I made sure to turn the burner off after she rushed out.”

“You need to abandon ship, Charlie. Throwing men overboard is what she does best.”

Charlie's mischievous grin lit his faded eyes. “I'm tied to the mast, sweetie. Don't worry about me.”

An Escalade, as ostentatious as Barrett's Mercedes, cruised into the parking lot, followed by a ratty pickup and a compact car.

If only the parking lot were this busy during ski season.

All the doors of the Escalade swung open and people spilled out. Big Elk climbed out of the passenger side and the whole troupe headed up the slope.

Dorothy Black, the incredibly young reporter from the
Daily Tribune
popped from the little car and quickly passed a few Guilty White People, catching up to Big Elk, notebook and pen leading the way.

Satisfaction and self-importance swarmed around Big Elk like flies on a corpse.

“Do you think he did it?” Abigail asked, not taking her eyes off the growing crowd.

“Of course he did it,” Nora said. Or maybe it was Alex. Or whoever sent the death threats. Or maybe the little kachina salesman. Or whoever carried the fireball. Or maybe Cole. Who knows?

Abigail's eyes flashed with that mother bear intensity. She glared at Big Elk as he approached, but her words were for Nora. “Pull your shoulders back, lift your chin, and put a confident smile on your face. Why didn't you listen to me when I suggested you clean up for the day?”

Charlie stepped next to Abigail and faced Big Elk and his en-
tourage.

Over the shoulders of the invading hordes, Nora caught sight of a police cruiser easing into the parking lot. They must be tired of traipsing out here for fires, riots, murders. It would be fine with Nora if police-worthy events stopped happening to her.

Big Elk gazed at Nora. “Are you okay?”

You'd think Mr. Soundbite would come up with something more original. Maybe, “Ha-ha” or “Take that.”

Abigail raised a regal chin. “Turn right around and march down this mountain. You are not welcome here.”

He ignored Abigail and addressed Nora. “I didn't mean for this to happen, but I warned you.”

Barrett's low voice carried threat. “If you don't want a restraining order, I suggest you leave.”

“And I suggest you keep on my good side, Mr. McCreary.”

Barrett narrowed his eyes in a look that foretold epic destruction, torture, and mayhem.

Enough of this. Nora didn't need others to protect her. She eased in front of Charlie and Abigail and opened her mouth.

Dorothy Black, who had interviewed Nora on several occasions, slid from behind Big Elk and into Nora's personal space. Perhaps sensing she held center stage, Dorothy spoke with volume and drama. “Ms. Abbott, what is your response to this morning's
Tribune
article?”

As if Nora had time to peruse today's paper. It didn't matter what Dorothy asked, Nora had a few things to say that she'd kept bottled up for too long. “In Arizona and New Mexico, at least forty to fifty mountains are sacred to tribes. There are over forty thousand shrines, gathering areas, pilgrimage routes, and prehistoric sites in the Southwest, all of which someone claims are sacred. We want to spray water on one-fourth of one percent of this one mountain.”

Dorothy brushed that aside. “In light of this destruction, can you respond to today's article in which Big Elk calls for the Hopi and other pueblo tribes to rise up in rebellion against you?”

“He called for what? Against me?”

Big Elk raised his voice. “I was speaking metaphorically.”

Dorothy scribbled away, eyes jumping from her small notebook to Nora's face. “You're familiar with the Pueblo Indian Rebellion of the 1600s? He compared snow making to the missionaries quelling the culture and enslaving the Puebloans.”

Charlie put his arm around Nora's shoulder and turned her away. “The press, man—use them, don't let them use you.”

The reporter took another step toward her, speaking to her back. “The Hopi, known for being a peaceful tribe, actually rebelled against the Spanish priests and flung them off the mesas to their deaths. Big Elk said the Hopi should do something similar to stop snow making.”

Big Elk sounded desperate. “I did not call for violence against Kachina Ski. I merely said we need to recapture that spirit.”

“Bullshit!” Nora spun around and let her anger shout back at Big Elk.

Abigail spoke quickly, maybe to save Nora from poor press. “If you think your terrorist shenanigans will stop us, Mr. Big Elk, you have greatly underestimated our fortitude. We won't run away like frightened field mice.”

Good one, Abigail. Your ability to throw an excellent cocktail party will surely protect us from murderers.

Gary and another uniformed officer finally arrived and pushed past the reporter. Gary's freckles nearly disappeared in his flushed cheeks. “All right, everyone calm down.”

Charlie whispered to Nora, “You can't trust the Heat.”

Nora's stomach tightened and sweat slimed her underarms. The last two times Gary showed up, he brought news of Scott's death and accused her of murder. Maybe now he'd haul her off to jail for blowing up her own lift.

The small knot of followers behind Big Elk started to chant. “Make love, not snow, make love, not snow!”

Gary spoke to Big Elk, his voice barely discernible above the activists. “What are you doing back here?”

With a glance at Dorothy, who moved closer and stood ready to scribble a quote, he said, “We came to assure Ms. Abbott that violence is not what we stand for. We want to demonstrate our solidarity to peaceful means, even as we vehemently disagree with Ms. Abbott's determination to disrupt Mother Earth's balance by making snow and sending us on the path to certain destruction.”

Blah, blah, blah in capitals and quotation marks.

Gary's face remained expressionless, despite the red slashes high on his cheeks. “I see.” He unhooked handcuffs from his belt. “You're under arrest for destruction of property.”

Whoa! He wasn't going to haul Nora away? Maybe her luck was turning. Well, aside from the blown-up lift, the death threats, and financial puppetry.

Big Elk held his hand up. “I had nothing to do with this, even if I'm not sorry to see it.”

Gary interrupted. “You've got your press coverage. Let's go.”

“You have no proof.” Spittle flew from Big Elk's lips as he shouted.

Gary shrugged. “Anonymous tip from a reliable source. I consider you a flight risk, so I'm not taking chances.”

“What about my rights?”

“You'll get the spiel on the way to the car,” Gary said.

“You're behind this.” Big Elk's finger pointed at Nora. Death. Violent, painful, endless. That's what Big Elk's eyes told her plainly. Eyes able to command from prison. Her knees wobbled.

“You won't get away with this.” Though he said it under his breath, the words shouted through her veins.

Gary pulled Big Elk's hands behind him and clamped on the handcuffs. The other officer took Big Elk by the arm and directed him across the slope. “You have the right to remain silent … ”

“False accusations,” Big Elk launched into one of his famous rants. He twisted his head to shout at Nora. “Your prejudice against Native Americans is well documented and now you're tainting Flagstaff's finest with your lies. My people will carry on this battle in my name for our Great Mother.”

Gary looked as if a headache of biblical proportions banged behind his eyes. “Knock off the histrionics.”