Tainted Mountain (14 page)

Evidently deciding Big Elk was the more dramatic story, Dorothy scurried to his side.

Abigail stepped close to Barrett and put a delicate hand on his arm, looking into his face. “Can't you do something about him?”

Though his features seemed calm, there was something about Barrett's face that brought to mind scorched fields of ash and death. “He won't bother Kachina Ski again.”

Somehow, that didn't make Nora feel safer.

Gary exhaled as if exhausted. “Nora. I need to talk to you.”

Scott was dead and she'd been accused of his murder. Not to mention Gary's suspicions about insurance fraud. What other disaster could he bring?

“Do you know a Maureen Poole?”

The name stabbed her heart and she couldn't begin to pull apart all the connected emotions. Betrayal, sadness, tragedy. Anger or compassion. She nodded.

“She was recently killed in a one-car accident. We discovered a connection between your late husband and Ms. Poole.”

Nora tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry. She barely squeaked out, “They were having an affair.”

Gary studied her face. “We suspect her death wasn't an accident.”

Knife to the lungs, air gone. Murder again. Gary was saying someone killed Maureen. Probably her. Unthinkable, though maybe she should have expected this. Things like this didn't happen in real life. Nora needed to get Abigail out of here, to someplace safe. People were being killed, and Abigail or Nora could be next.

“As a person of interest in the murder of your husband, this obviously makes you”—he hesitated—“more interesting.”

Like a fish jerked toward the pole by the painful hook in its mouth, Nora felt herself reeling toward disaster.

Twenty-One

Barrett's boots thudded on
the yellowed industrial linoleum. He'd orchestrated Big Elk's arrest to illustrate that he was CEO of more than McCreary Energy. The noble Officer Gary had no idea who gave his chief the reliable tip. Now Barrett and Big Elk would have their Come to Jesus meeting and Big Elk would deliver the vote of the Hopi Tribal Council.

Three small barred cells left room for a walkway in the cinderblock structure. Dull yellow paint covered the walls.

Big Elk had the only cot in the cell farthest from the door. A bleary-eyed drunk hung his head in the next cell. Other than that, they had the place to themselves.

Barrett's steady footsteps down the linoleum corridor didn't disturb the prone figure of Big Elk. He lay on his back, arms under his head, staring at the ceiling.

Barrett stopped outside the cell. “Enjoying your stay?”

Only his lips moved. “Not five-star quality, but what can you expect for the sticks?”

“As a Native of the land, one funded with the hard-earned donations of a faithful following, isn't five stars out of your league?”

Big Elk chuckled and sat up. “Mr. Barrett McCreary. How good of you to call. And how generous to arrange my release.”

Despite the difficult things he'd been forced to do in his life, Barrett didn't like violence. Still, he thought he might enjoy ripping this guy's throat out. “At least you understand the chain of command here.”

The smirk on Big Elk's face stretched Barrett's control. “So you got the local yokels to toss me behind bars. Good for you. Now get me out.”

“Not until you guarantee prompt delivery of what I paid for.”

Big Elk rose from his cot. He stretched his arms overhead, took a deep breath, exhaled, and bent over in downward dog. When he stood, he ambled to the bars and faced Barrett. “I'll get the Hopi Tribal Council's endorsement for uranium mining, but not because you think you have power over me.”

“I do have the power. This incarceration is a warning. If I decide to let you out, understand that any delay in the Hopi agreement will result in something much more costly than repairs to the ski lift—which you'll reimburse me for, by the way.”

Big Elk's arms went overhead and he bent to his left, inhaled up and bent to the right, eyes full of malicious humor. When he straightened he said, “People of the Earth feel strongly about white men desecrating their sacred lands. But I won't be giving you a dime, Barrett. In fact, I want another mil deposited in that account.”

Ripping out his throat might be letting him off too easy. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Like Scott Abbott?”

This prick didn't know the first thing about Scott Abbott. He was fishing.

When Barrett didn't react, Big Elk narrowed his eyes and considered. “I don't know how or why, but I'll bet my best horse you have something to do with that.”

“Get the job done and get the fuck out of my playground or rot here in jail.”

“You don't want to threaten me, Mr. McCreary.”

“That's not a threat.”

Big Elk appeared as casual as if he was relaxing at a picnic. “Your daughter might not be happy to see me abused like this.”

It took all of his control not to fly at the bars and smash Big Elk's skull. Through a jaw locked as tight as Attica, Barrett said, “Leave her alone.”

Big Elk shrugged. “Okay. You ought to know, though, that I'm the only thing standing between her and considerable jail time.”

Barrett's lungs hardened to stone.

Big Elk chuckled again. “The authorities you think you hold in your pocket might be interested to know the name of the brave eco-terrorist who blew up that ski lift.”

Barrett was riveted to the floor and his ears rang at the words he didn't want to hear:

“Heather set that explosion, and her prints are all over the evidence.”

Twenty-Two

Nora's ankle throbbed as
she stepped on the clutch of her old Jeep and downshifted. Maybe running all over the mountain, standing in front of her burned-out lift, and driving to town for supplies wasn't the best recovery plan. Abbey rode shotgun on the return drive home, head sticking out from the passenger window and tongue hanging out. The Jeep swung from the highway into Mountain Village.

During the court battles, she'd thought about the financial benefits of snow making, not only to Kachina Ski but to the whole town. She had sincerely believed in the advantages of making snow. But now those doubts wouldn't leave her alone. Was it right to create a playground, rip out more trees, and scour the mountainside so more skiers could spend their weekends and their cash tearing up the wilderness? Would unnatural snow benefit the mountain as she'd thought? After years of battling, the victory had come at her too fast. She addressed Abbey. “Scott was right. We should get out while we're alive.”

Abbey pulled in his tongue, glanced at her, swallowed, and hung his tongue out again.

Wish I could find something to bring me as much pleasure as riding in the Jeep gives him. Pleasure, my ass—I'd settle for a little less pain and fear.

She coasted into the parking lot of Kachina. Barrett's black Mercedes reflected the late morning sunshine. The metal cordon defining the edge of the lot lay on the ground and a set of deep wheel ruts ran over it.

At the far side of the slope, next to the gnarled remains of the lift, several pickups parked and a dozen men in hard hats milled around. Barrett stood with a man who had to be a crew foreman.

“That son of a bitch.” Nora hurried across the slope. About halfway there Barrett noticed her and he walked away from the men to meet her. She held his gaze as she slowed and stomped toward him. The ache lingering in her ankle fueled her determination.

“What is this?”

“The contractors to start trenching for the sprayers.”

“The sprayers won't be here until spring. We'll trench then.”

Barrett put a hand on Nora's shoulder. “I reordered my sprayers. They'll be here next week. It's been a tough day for you. Go on back to the lodge and get some rest.”

She felt like smacking him. “You can't do this.”

Condescension oozed from Barrett. “I understand jitters. This is a big step. It's the beginning of taking Kachina Ski from a one-run mom-and-pop operation to a resort rivaling Lake Tahoe. It's scary and you're understandably nervous. But you're up to the task and I'll be with you every step of the way.”

“I don't have the jitters. I will not allow this.”

His steady gaze held a hint of danger. “Bigger and more powerful people than you have tried to stand in my way, and they were crushed. One thing you should know about McCrearys, we get what we want.”

“Really?” Volcanoes of molten rage made her face burn. “One thing you should know about me, I won't be railroaded.”

“Glad to hear it. That kind of determination will transform this mountain into a destination resort. There is no limit to the winter Disneyland we can create.”

“I don't think you understand. I mean I won't kneel before you, the Crown Prince of Assholes.”

“You're overreacting.” He spoke as if quieting an unreasonable child.

Nora raced away, heading to the foreman. He looked startled. She ran behind the men and herded them toward the pickups. “Get out of here. Now. Go!”

Confused, they stared at her. She probably seemed deranged to them. She didn't care. Eventually, the foreman must have decided she was crazy enough that he didn't want to argue. He motioned for the men to leave.

As soon as the men began loading up, she stomped across the slope and up the stairs to the deck. Voices came from inside the lodge. She slinked outside the screen door and looked in.

Abigail, Heather, and Charlie gathered around the large front window. Charlie stood on a chair and hammered something above the corner of the window. Heather carried a waterfall of bright yellow fabric with tiny blue flowers. Abigail stood with arms folded super-
vising.

Heather rambled on her favorite topic. “When the first people climbed from the Third World to the Fourth World, the leaders gathered and each choose an ear of corn. Other tribes quickly grabbed the largest ears, leaving only the smallest for Hopi. According to their choice, each tribe went on their way to settle in their lands. Because the Hopi chose the smallest ear, we were told our lives will be difficult and we'll always be a small tribe. But we'll survive the longest.”

Abigail handed something to Charlie. “But why here? Why didn't they settle where survival is easier?”

“The Hopi clans migrated for a very long time. We left behind maps and histories in the rock paintings that are all over. One day the Bear Clan made it to the Mesa and they met a powerful spirit. They wanted him to be their leader and stay with them. He refused but said they could stay as long as they lived his way. As time went by, other clans settled on the mesas and were accepted into Hopi.”

Abigail nodded to Heather. She stepped toward Charlie. “If you raise that bracket a smidge you'll have better luck getting that nail in.”

Nora opened the screen and stepped inside. “What's going on?”

Heather looked over her shoulder, the expression on her face like a child at a birthday party.

Abigail didn't turn. “We're sprucing up the place. Don't you think these curtains add cheer?”

Maybe her head would just explode. “No. What I think is that they'll turn into a giant Kleenex for skiers with runny noses.”

Abigail clucked. “Heather and I spent the morning sewing these. You could at least say thank you.”

Nora was speechless. Which was good, because anything she said would be bad.

Abigail gasped. “Not like that. Charlie, you must measure so they'll be even.”

Charlie smiled at her, sweat dripping from his face. “Aw, Ab. No one will ever be able to tell.”

Heather laughed. “They'll be too busy blowing their noses.”

Abigail gave her a playful swat. “You dickens.”

Just one happy party until Nora, the Big Green Ogre, entered.
What's the matter with her, anyway?
Nora wondered.

Barrett walked into the lodge. Nora turned on her heel to confront Barrett, put a hand on his massive chest, and gave it a shove. “Get the hell out of here.”

“Nora!” Abigail scolded.

Barrett held up his palm. “I can see you're upset.”

“Upset?” She sounded shrill. “Why should I be upset?!”

Abigail came to Nora. “I don't know what this is about, but hysterics will get you nowhere.”

“Be quiet, Mother.”

Abigail stomped her foot and clapped her hands. “That's enough! You will not speak to me that way.”

Heather's eyes widened as she stared at the scene.

Charlie climbed down from the chair. “This sounds like the kind of discussion best undertaken with beverages. Might I suggest a trip to the Mountain Tavern?”

Nora stared at Barrett. “I don't care what agenda you plan. This is my business, and I'll run it my way.”

“If you'll recall,” Barrett spoke with infuriating calm. “The deal was that I'd give you money to make snow. An ethical business person doesn't renege on a deal.”

“Using responsible methods is not reneging.”

“Will you sit and talk about this?”

Abigail drew in her chin and straightened her shoulders. “Of course she'll discuss this in a rational manner.”

Nora took another step toward him. “Why are you pushing this? It's not as if you need money.”

“Nora, really. Barrett is our benefactor.”

Barrett's voice dripped with false kindness. “You have the brains and savvy to steer Kachina to the success it can achieve. But you're overwhelmed with the burdens thrust on your narrow shoulders. I'm only here to help.”

Her brain felt dry as a desert, all the neuro-pathways like sandy washes. Let him handle the details, why not? She and Abigail could move into town for a while. Nora would recover from Scott's death and betrayal, though she didn't see how. The business would thrive and she'd pick up her life again. Alex would eventually make a stupid move and end up in jail. A smooth transition orchestrated by the great Barrett McCreary himself.

Her term paper research told her he cleaned up uranium contamination, built clinics and schools, all while increasing profits and moving McCreary Energy into the forefront of the industry. He'd achieved success more complicated than running a tiny ski resort. So why did everything in her body rebel against letting him make decisions for Kachina Ski?

Abigail put her arm around Nora, her hands cool and soft. “There now, you see? Barrett is trying to help.”

Nora looked up, exhausted. “Fire that contractor. Cancel the sprayers.”

Barrett shook his head. “It's not good to make rash decisions right now.”

“This is not a rash decision.”

Abigail patted Nora's shoulder. “You won't have to do it alone. Barrett is going to help you, aren't you, dear?”

Dear?
Abigail took to rich men like foie gras to champagne.

Barrett looked pleased with himself. “People will be here tomorrow to begin the lift repairs.”

“What?”

“Leave it to me. I'll take care of everything.”

Blood pumped back into her brain, flash-flooding the synapses. “No. I'll make the decisions about snow and the lift.”

The
p-shew
of a beer can opening broke the silence. Charlie slurped then said, “Perhaps Miss Abigail and I can wander down to the Tavern and reserve a table. You guys could join us later.”

Abigail let out a deep sigh. “No, Charlie. Barrett and I are on our way out.”

Charlie didn't sound daunted. “Okay, then. Might I interest you in an evening stroll?”

Nora and Barrett still faced each other. Nora breathed fast and shallow.

“I'm sorry,” Abigail said, sounding anything but. “I'm not interested in strolling with you, having supper at the Tavern with you, sharing a six pack with you, or doing much of anything with you except wishing you a nice day.”

Charlie chuckled. “I like a woman with some vinegar to her.”

Barrett's smile looked benign enough, but something nasty lurked around its edge. “You're still general manager here, Nora. In fact, I'd planned on giving you an actual salary and benefits, like a real corporation.”

Nora put her hands on her hips. “Unlike Abigail, I'm not interested in being your kept woman.”

“Hear me roar,” Charlie said.

Abigail glared at Nora, color high in her cheeks. “That was uncalled for and cruel.”

She's right.
“I'm sorry, Mother. I didn't mean that.” Guilt felt like tar in Nora's throat.

Abigail's gold lamé sandals clicked across the floor to grab her bag by the front door. “Are you ready for lunch, Barrett? I'm half starved.”

Barrett hesitated a split second and started after Abigail. “There's a quaint bistro in the old mining town of Jerome.”

Nora spoke to Barrett's back. “Cancel your equipment.”

Just before he walked out of the lodge, Barrett said. “Don't try to stop me, Nora.”

She followed them onto the deck, seething. They strolled down the path to the parking lot. Charlie and Heather stood behind her not making a sound, as if in thrall at the climax of an adventure movie.

Barrett opened the Mercedes's door for Abigail and helped her to settle inside.

Without much thought Nora raced down the steps to the parking lot. Two pickups full of trenchers idled in the lot and she ignored them. Nora jumped into her Jeep, cranked the key, and slammed it into gear. The Jeep lurched backward, spraying cinders as she popped the gear shift from reverse into second and aimed for Barrett's Mercedes, which was poised to turn onto the road. She braced herself on the steering wheel and stomped on the gas. The Jeep shot forward and crashed into the bumper of Barrett's gas-guzzling black monster.

She grabbed the gear shift and shoved it into reverse, backed up a few feet, then slammed it to second again, giving it gas. The next impact created a satisfying explosion of taillights.

The car's driver side door opened and Barrett jumped out, motivating his bulk with impressive speed. While he approached she backed up again, put it in neutral and revved the motor.

Barrett put a hand on her door, as if that could stop her. “What the hell are you doing?”

She faced the rage in his eyes. “I don't know, but it feels good.”

Ram into gear, stomp the gas, slam into the bumper a third time.

“You're crazy!”

“That's right.”

Abigail appeared next to Barrett. She put an elegant hand on his massive arm and turned him toward the Mercedes.

The fire inside Nora died as Abigail saw Barrett into his seat, gave him an endearing smile, and turned to walk like a queen to
her side of the vehicle. She opened the door and, just before stepping in, looked at Nora.

Instead of anger and disappointment, Nora saw pain and confusion. Barrett and Abigail drove away.

The trenchers idled in their pickups.