Tainted Mountain Page 10

  Dismay washed across Big Elk’s band, but his arrogance never wavered. “I haven’t sent anyone to kill you, Ms. Abbott.”

  “Don’t bother lying to me.”

  “Lying is the way of the white man. Native Americans don’t hide behind falsehoods.”

  Rage erupted in a fiery furnace. “Is that so? You haven’t been behind all the vandalism and protests? You didn’t send that Alex guy to murder me?”

  Heather blew a disbelieving breath from behind her. “He wasn’t going to kill you.”

  Big Elk remained irritatingly calm. “You’re the one spreading untruths, Ms. Abbott. Alex, our brother of the Hopi, went out to the sacred mountain to pray and offer gifts to the kachinas. When you attacked him, he had no choice but to defend himself.”

  “Defend himself with his hands around my neck!”

  “The Hopi value peace and he wouldn’t react unless threatened.”

  Unchecked words shot from her. “You and your bullshit! What do you know about any of this anyway? You’re not even Native American.”

  “My ancestors … ”

  “Your ancestors were probably European farmers. You aren’t any more Native American than I am. Where are your records, huh? You’re not Sioux.”

  He may or may not be indigenous, but Big Elk’s face turned a violent red. “My people were with Dull Knife at Fort Robinson. I … ”

  She stepped forward and pointed. “Yeah? No one up there knows you or your family. You’re a fake.”

  She’d gone too far.

  She thought she felt hatred from him before, but that was mild displeasure compared to the noxious wave that came at her now. He looked at her with Charles Manson eyes. “You’ll regret uttering those words. The kachinas protect their own.”

  He turned slowly, his murderous eyes lingering on her.

  Fifteen

  Brooding again. Barrett leaned back in his custom-made leather desk chair and gazed at Kachina Mountain.

  McCreary Energy was one very profitable privately owned company. Thanks to Barrett the Third. But he wouldn’t have had the opportunity if his grandfather hadn’t planted the family in Northern Arizona and if Barrett’s father hadn’t seen the benefits of mining.

  It’s what McCreary’s do. Grandfather started it. Father almost lost it but if he hadn’t died young, he probably would have turned it around. I staunched the hemorrhage and turned it into a powerhouse. But I have to strengthen the family chain even more. Heather needs a company with wealth and a diversified position. McCreary Energy has to move into the future.

  Uranium.

  Northern Arizona is the Saudi Arabia of uranium and that’s Heather’s future and my legacy. If I let this opportunity slide by, McCreary Energy will become a third-rate has-been and Heather will have nothing.

  A lesser man might fold under the forces against him: Enviros hated the idea of mining close to the Grand Canyon. Those radical long-hairs wouldn’t go away quietly. Native Americans feared uranium mining on their lands, and he didn’t blame them; they’d suffered from the industry’s earlier ignorance. But none suffered more than Barrett.

  He grabbed the Rolaids from his desk drawer. Beneath the bottle, Ester and their children smiled at him from the Kodachrome memory. He slammed the drawer closed.

  No, mining techniques had improved. That disaster would never happen again. He had to move forward. He owed it to Heather. Forget the past, old man. Look ahead.

  Like a cool breeze on the desert, the image of Abigail wafted

  before his eyes. She had class and intelligence and a fine ass for a middle-aged gal. Maybe when this was all over they could get together.

  Romance could wait. Right now, Abigail was good cover so he could keep an eye on Kachina Ski.

  He’d like to get rid of Nora. Her balkiness over snow making irritated him. But it would look suspicious if Nora disappeared and for now, he had her under control. Her life expectancy would change, though, if she ever found out Scott was working for him.

  Barrett sank back in his chair. Abigail was a fount of disturbing information at their lunch. For instance, Barrett learned about Scott’s affair. Who knows what he told his floozy on the side. Another loose thread to take care of.

  Dust on the road signaled an approaching car. He glanced at the clock. Right on time. That alone proved Big Elk was no real Indian, just a damned mercenary.

  Big Elk’s black Escalade, now dusted with dirt, braked in front of Barrett’s house. He turned off the ignition and sat behind the wheel talking on the phone.

  The irksome imposter drove the same vehicle as Barrett. Before he rose to answer the doorbell, Barrett sent a quick e-mail to his assistant at the office in Phoenix telling him to trade the Escalade for one of those Mercedes SUVs.

  “Nice place,” Big Elk said when Barrett opened the door.

  Barrett led him to the great room. “It’s home. Drink?”

  “Whiskey, straight up.”

  Barrett poured two fingers and handed it to him.

  Big Elk settled himself on the leather sofa. “What’s on your mind?”

  Barrett wanted business with this varmint concluded quickly. He stood by the window. “Stop influencing the Hopi council against uranium mining.”

  Big Elk sighed. “The Hopi are a simple people. I’m merely a voice for them to the outside world.”

  Barrett figured he knew more about the Hopi and cared more for them than Big Elk ever would. He knew what served their best interest. “Convince them of the benefits of mining.”

  “I see no benefit to raping and mauling their pristine lands to satisfy your avaricious desire.”

  It was a good thing for Big Elk that Barrett’s gun rested in his desk drawer across the room. Too bad for Barrett the Rolaids sat in the same place. “The benefits of mining royalties to the Hopi are something I’m sure you can imagine. What’s more important for this discussion is the benefit to Big Elk.”

  Big Elk sat back with satisfaction. “Go on.”

  “What’s your price?”

  Big Elk feigned shock, coming closer than he knew to a fist in his face. “This is about an ancient people’s land and their right to sovereignty.”

  Barrett waited.

  “I can’t say you’re much fun to do business with.”

  “I don’t like you.”

  Big Elk’s eyebrows shot up. “Ouch.”

  Again Barrett waited.

  Big Elk stood. He reached in his back pocket for his wallet. “Two million. Deposited equally to these accounts.” He pulled out a handwritten note.

  Barrett didn’t move. “One.”

  “With uranium selling at an all-time high and you panting after one of the world’s largest deposits, you won’t miss two million, my friend.”

  “I’m not your friend.” Barrett let the clock tick. “One point five.”

  Big Elk took a moment, as if weighing the decision. “And a warehouse in Flagstaff.”

  “A warehouse? I won’t be involved in drugs.”

  Big Elk laughed. “Nor would I. I’ll spare you the details but saving Mother Earth isn’t the only game in town for this Indian.”

  Barrett snatched the paper containing the bank accounts from Big Elk’s hand.

  Big Elk smiled. “I’ll let myself out.”

  “One other thing,” Barrett said. “Keep Alex Seweingyawma away from my daughter.”

  An oily smile slid onto Big Elk’s face. “I can’t control the boy.”

  “If I find out he’s been anywhere near Heather, the deal is off and you’re going to jail.”

  Big Elk shrugged. “I’ll do what I can to protect your innocent daughter. But understand this, Barrett: I have as much on you as you have on me.”

  Barrett glared at Big Elk until the small man snorted with arrogance and sauntered toward the hall. Barre
tt craved a disinfectant shower. It sickened him the way Big Elk had no principles, no loyalties. He might do some shady things himself, but at least everything he did was for family.

  Big Elk tossed off words over his shoulder. “You don’t have any attachment to Nora Abbott, do you?”

  Barrett waited in silence while Big Elk faced him.

  “I’ve heard she’s accident prone,” Big Elk said.

  An accident, such as a fall from a cliff? Maybe a malfunctioning Jeep engine? The lodge apartment ran on propane and those pesky fuel bottles could blow under heat or pressure. It would be nice to have the Nora Abbott problem eliminated …

  Barrett bent to pick up the empty whiskey glass so Big Elk wouldn’t see his smile. Good. Just let Big Elk take care of her.

  The front door opened and closed as Big Elk left.

  Barrett headed to the kitchen and realized he hadn’t heard Big Elk drive off. One glance out the window made his veins fill with ice.

  Heather stood next to Big Elk’s Escalade. Damn it. She said she’d be gone all day riding her horse and here she stood, talking to Big Elk. Heather seemed to have a talent for finding trouble these days. Maybe Barrett should install a tracking chip under her skin.

  Heather’s eyebrows drew together the way they did when she made a serious point.

  Barrett stomped onto the front porch. “Heather.”

  She jumped and turned toward the house, not finishing her sentence.

  “Come inside now.” Barrett glared at Big Elk while Heather stomped up the stairs and into the house.

  If Big Elk didn’t stay away from Heather, he might make Barrett truly angry.

  Sixteen

  Watching the truck loaded with pipeline inching up the slope should fill Nora with triumph. Three months ago, she feared she’d end up selling the ski lift on eBay and peddling used rental skis on the street corner.

  Back then, Scott was still alive and planning to leave her. The 9th District court was weighing its decision on snow making. Abigail was shopping in New York and though Nora fretted about losing Kachina Ski, she hadn’t yet learned real fear.

  A ski area in Arizona sounded crazy. But Kachina Ski opened in 1935 and was one of the oldest ski slopes in the country. Sure, the drive to a desert took only an hour, but this mountain rose to nearly 13,000 feet. The runs didn’t rival Colorado or Utah resorts, but Kachina Ski held its own and even managed to be profitable. That is, until Nora took over, which happened to coincide with a five-year-long—and counting—drought.

  But this pipeline proved she could conquer the drought, and with Barrett’s help, she’d have Abigail shopping for shoes in another time zone in no time. By Christmastime this mountain would be covered in snow, whether Mother Nature felt up to the task or not.

  Why did it make her stomach ache to think of it?

  The sun glared overhead, heating the pines and releasing their pungent perfume over a mountainside covered in June’s wildflowers. Enormous black ravens cawed and glided from treetops and over the wide swathe of grass-covered ski run. The day sparkled brilliantly on her mountain, but it might as well have been sleeting.

  Nora plodded up the slope, following the truck with its load of pipe rolled like giant spools of fire hose. Its tires tore the ground like the Jolly Green Giant’s golf divots.

  A quiet voice filtered through the truck’s struggle. “Miss.”

  The slip of a man, the kachina salesmen from the courthouse, stood behind her. His approached must have been masked by the roar of the truck. He stood without moving, his black eyes focused on her face.

  If he breathed, Nora couldn’t see the movement. Though nothing about him was threatening, Nora’s pulse quickened. Maybe he’d brought Alex with him. “You. What do you want?”

  His eyes shifted slowly to the truck, which stopped at a level place to unload the hose. The sorrow on his face was clear and heart wrenching.

  The rolls of hose stacked on the flatbed would be unrolled and laid on the ground alongside the run. The pump would shoot water and air through the hose to the sprayers. Snow, directly from the abundant aquifer. God, it was good to be an American.

  It should have been a triumphant day on her mountain—well, her sliver of it, anyway. I will not feel guilty, damn it. This guy needed to go away.

  He brought his gaze back to her. “Will you … ?” He spoke in clipped words, as if English wasn’t natural for him. He pointed to the hose.

  He didn’t look like the placard-bearing, rally-calling, hysterical religious fanatics that fought her for years. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t turn on her any minute. “It’s for snow making, yes.”

  He nodded so slowly he barely moved. Those eyes carried deep sadness.

  Nope. I am not feeling bad for bringing water to the mountain. Nora turned away from him and hiked to the truck. Maybe if she ignored him, he’d disappear like he did at the courthouse. She waved to the driver when he climbed from the cab. “We want to stack the rolls right here.”

  He pulled a clipboard from the cab. “I gotta do the paperwork.”

  Nora walked next to the rumbling truck, ignoring the diesel fumes. She put a hand on the sun-heated hose, the veins that would pump the blood to keep Kachina Ski alive.

  “Miss.”

  Nora jumped. That gentle voice raised the hairs on her neck. She hated it, but it almost felt like he belonged here more than she did.

  He pulled a ratty bag from his back. “I brought you my kachinas.”

  The crude doll with the blue mask broken and floating in the gutter flashed in her mind. “No thanks. I lost the last one.”

  While his hand rummaged in the bag, he stared into her face.

  The two top rolls shifted. Nora skittered away from the truck.

  They settled. The driver must be ready to unload. “Excuse me,” Nora said to the little man. She strode away to talk to the driver.

  Holding his bag in front of him, the man stared up at the hose.

  Something moved on top of the truck.

  The top two rolls of hose shifted again and the straps holding the stack upright slipped to the ground. Lightning flashed inside Nora as she realized the hose was no longer strapped to the truck. If the little man didn’t move now, the hose could fall and flatten him.

  The unstable roll slipped from the top.

  Why didn’t the little man react?

  The whole pile started to topple. Still the Native American man stood motionless.

  The top of the load rolled, followed by the others. Nora’s body took over, legs pumping up the slope, perhaps her voice shouting, hands in front of her.

  The man stayed rooted to the mountain.

  Nora smashed into him like a defensive tackle, pushing both of them out of the way of the crashing hose. She landed on top of his small frame. The ground vibrated with the impact of the nearby falling freight.

  Still pulsing with adrenaline, Nora dug her feet into the dirt and tried to scoot them farther away.

  Too late. A heavy weight crushed her ankle, sending hot waves of pain shooting up her leg and spine. Several more hits felt like someone with a sledgehammer pounding her shin.

  And then silence. Not even a raven cawed.

  Nora opened her eyes and pulled her face from the ground. She still lay on top of the little man and tried to move but the hose pinned her calves. She managed to shift enough for him to wiggle out. Throbbing pain made everything below her waist ignite in flames.

  Behind her, the truck bed sat empty except for two rolls of hose. The remainder of the load spread across the slope, with one roll on her legs.

  “Nora!” Cole appeared next to her head. He reached for her hand, his eyes searching her face. “Are you okay?”

  Her throat tightened and she fought panic. He always showed up just as something awful happened, and that couldn’t be a coincidenc
e. Somehow Cole caused this accident in an effort to shut her up about the bribery. She struggled with the desire to get away from him.

  Cole shouted at the driver. “Help me get this off her!”

  The overweight driver scurried around Nora’s head and grunted. The weight on her legs lightened and Nora held her breath against the throbbing. It hurt like hell but she could move her legs. Celebrate life’s little victories.

  Cole knelt beside her. “Can you stand up?”

  She struggled for strength but her voice sounded weak. “What are you doing here?”

  “What are you thinking jumping under the hose?”

  “That man … ” Yee-ow! No way could Nora stand. “Ankle,” she said between clenched teeth.

  Cole bent over to examine the foot she raised. His lean fingers tested the purpling flesh.

  The raw agony nearly made Nora pee. “Stop!”

  “Sorry.”

  She gently rotated the ankle in question slowly, the pain galloping all the way up her leg.

  “It’s sprained. I can wrap it,” Cole said.

  “Just leave me alone!”

  “Hey, buddy.” The driver stood next to the hose. “What do you want me to do?”

  Cole shrugged. “Finish unloading the truck and stack it.”

  The driver shot Nora an annoyed look. “I was told there would be help.”

  Maybe the kachina man could use a few bucks. “What about that guy?”

  Both men gave her a puzzled look.

  She scanned the slope, suddenly worried he’d been injured. “Where did he go?”

  Cole followed her gaze. “Who?”

  “That Native American guy I was talking to.”

  “Before the hose fell? I didn’t see anyone,” Cole said.

  Nora looked at the driver. “You saw him. I tried to shove him out of the way of the falling hose.”

  The driver shrugged. “I was doing the paperwork.”

  The aching in her ankle overrode everything else. “Load it, leave it. I don’t care.”