Tainted Mountain (2 page)

Like the Leonard Bernstein of activist rallies, Big Elk conducted the crowd to a crescendo. “The courts gave her permission to destroy the home of the kachinas, but there is a higher judge. We must fight for the kachinas of the mountain!”

Raymond nudged her. “You need to make a move here.”

Now that Big Elk whetted the crowd's bloodlust, she was supposed to speak reason? Right. Nora couldn't present an argument to Native Americans and enviros who thought today's decision was akin to granting her legal right to blow up the Washington Monument. She'd be lucky if they didn't shoot her full of arrows.

She needed a savior, but Scott riding in on his white stallion to save her seemed about as likely as the sky opening up and ending the drought. Nora took a deep breath.
Be Barrett.

She marched straight to Big Elk. If her legs trembled, she didn't acknowledge it; if her heart hammered, she ignored that too. No one needed to know her fear loomed so large she barely kept from peeing her pants. With her head erect, she called forth the dignity and poise of her mother, Abigail.

Ignoring Big Elk's murderous glare, she stepped in front of him and noticed for the first time that he stood several inches shorter than her five seven. No wonder he had the vicious bark of a little dog. She shouted, “Thank you, Mr. Big Elk.”

She had testified in the courts, given interviews for the media, put her money and life on the line for this. She could certainly overcome fear of public speaking. “I'm Nora Abbott, owner and manager of Kachina Ski.”

Boos and hisses.

“How would you like it if I pissed in your church?” someone yelled at her. Nothing new. Tainted water on a holy site. The analogy made sense to them.

People shouted in a jumble of heat and temper. “Go back to your white world and leave us alone!”

Two cops in uniform stood at the back of the crowd. They looked alert and focused on the steps.

More people joined in the insults, and soon distinct words disintegrated into swelling outrage.

Was it her imagination or did the crowd inch up on her?

They'd settle down and act civilized any minute now. Sun penetrated her skin, singeing her insides. Up on her mountain it would be cool with a slight breeze, the pines letting off their summer tang.

Just then Scott rounded the corner of the courthouse plaza, his dark curls as reassuring as a troop flag. Her cavalry of one. Nora nearly collapsed with relief.

A tall Native American with blue-black hair down to his waist stepped forward, his blazing eyes scorching her. “Get the hell out of our sacred places!”

The cops waded through the knot of protesters in slow motion. Others jeered and shouted in a confusion of voices.

Scott wasn't even looking her way now. Nora's courage dissolved like a tiny levy in a big flood. Instead of cutting through the crowd like a knight on his charger, Scott hurried in the wrong direction toward someone else. Barrett McCreary? The older man strode away from the courthouse. Scott bee-lined for him, an uncharacteristic frown marring his mischievous face.

The scene around her deteriorated as her eyes came back to the people in front of her. The livid young man climbed a step, his face angry as the fires of hell. “You can pack up and leave on your own or not, but you will leave.”

Others stepped up, and Nora's fear shot from her heart and climbed up her throat. What had she planned to say?

The man climbed again, and a pretty girl followed. His teeth looked like the fangs of a wolf, ready to shred her flesh. “You don't belong on the mountain.”

The cries from the crowd grew even louder now. “Save our Peaks!” “Don't desecrate the sacred Mother!” “You don't belong here!” Eyes full of vengeance, mouths opened in escalating rage, they shouted at her.

And Scott was off on his own mission. Cops only halfway to the steps. No help in sight.

The young girl's pretty eyes shone with excitement and she placed her hand on the angry young man's muscled shoulder.

He looked ready to tear out her jugular with his hands.

Nora backed up, panicked and frozen in place.

The guy leapt up the last step and advanced on her. “This moun-
tain was given to us to keep sacred for the whole world.”

The girl jumped up on the step, close behind him.

Nora took another step back and bumped into the courthouse wall.

The cops couldn't get to her in time. More people pushed toward her, forming a wall of bodies that blocked her from sight. Scott wouldn't see her now even if he looked.

Malevolence shooting from his eyes, the tall Native American pulled something from his pocket. Impossible against the riotous clatter of the surging crowd, Nora heard the
swisht
of a blade jumping from a handle.

Three

Barrett McCreary III slid
his Serengeti sunglasses over his nose, cutting the glare from the plaza. Too damn bad the glasses couldn't hide the sight of Big Elk and his rant.

“Barrett.”

Shit. Another idiot holding him up.

Cole Huntsman. For a smart man, an expert on uranium mining, he sure dressed like an illiterate granola. Cole pushed his shaggy pale hair from his forehead. “I found that study on in situ mining in Canada you asked me about.”

“It hasn't been five minutes since we spoke.”

Cole held up one of those fancy phones that could contact the moon and download an encyclopedia, if anyone knew how to use an encyclopedia anymore. “I e-mailed it to you.”

Even if he looked like a tree-hugger, this guy impressed Barrett. He was smart, efficient, and not one to waste Barrett's time. “Nice work.”

A woman's voice sounded from the courthouse steps, startling Barrett with its clarity. Across the courtyard, Nora Abbott stood on the steps, looking remarkably cool for the mess she'd put herself in. Both Barrett and Cole focused on her addressing the hostile crowd. That coppery hair and bright eyes made her cute as a penny, but she had to be smart too, to keep that ski area running through this drought. She should know better than to throw herself in front of that mob.

But that was not his problem. He hurried across the plaza while Cole was distracted. Barrett wanted nothing more than to get home, shed this stupid suit and tie, and get down to business. With the congressional hearings on uranium mining set for next week, there were palms to grease, weight to sling around, and dirt to dig.

He hadn't been quick enough. Around the corner popped Scott Abbott. Just who he didn't want to see. And certainly not in public.

“I need to talk to you,” Scott said.

“Not here.”

Crowd clatter rose from the platform.

“Tomorrow, then. On the mountain,” Scott said.

“Six a.m. There shouldn't be anyone on the trail that early.”

Scott squinted toward the noisy courthouse. His eyes widened when he saw his wife and, without another word to Barrett, he elbowed his way into the crowd.

Barrett didn't want to wait around for the finale. Big Elk had succeeded in his typical mischief. The brothers and sisters to the moon and sun were storming the steps. Par for Big Elk's course. He took a last look at the crowd and turned to leave.

Wait.

He spun back toward the steps.

It was her.

How could she be standing there? A train wreck of memory slammed into his gut in an explosion of pain followed by paralysis. His mind spun back forty years. He saw the woman he loved smiling at him, her shining black hair and turquoise necklace catching the sun and tossing it back for everyone's delight.

Ester.

He sucked in air, fighting for reality. Ester, in her velvet skirt, silver earrings, Concho belt …

But this girl on the steps wore jeans. No turquoise and silver glinted.

And Ester would never set foot in this plaza or anywhere else again.

Slowly it started to make sense. The girl amid the mob advancing on Nora Abbott was his Heather. Not Ester. Heather. He didn't know the black-haired delinquent she followed, but he would find out. No Native American jerk-off, angry at the world and looking for a handout, was going to get near his Heather. The boy would disappear from her life.

And that damned Scott Abbott needed to disappear too. All in a day's work for Barrett.

He was a virtual magician when it came to vanishing people.

Four

A hand shot out,
the blade aimed for Nora's belly.

She lost her balance. One foot slid and she crashed to her knees. She was saved from that thrust, but she had no hope of avoiding the next.

She squeezed her eyes closed, expecting the burn of flesh as the knife sliced between her ribs into her lungs. Instead of the pain of the blade stabbing through her skin, a hand closed around her wrist and jerked her to her feet. She opened her eyes and looked into the face of the enviro who'd knocked against her in the hall and accosted Barrett McCreary. Probably some Earth Firster who would turn her over to Big Elk and his henchmen.

He shoved her behind his back and faced outward. “Back off!” he yelled at the crowd.

The cops finally infiltrated the mob and shouted orders to move back. Nora focused her frightened eyes on the crowd, but the slasher was nowhere in sight. He'd vanished from the courthouse steps as completely as he had from the bathroom. Other hate-filled faces glared at her, still thirsty for blood.

The enviro pulled her through a break in the crowd and down the steps. As they ran across the street, she stumbled on the curb, reaching for his arm.

The kachina doll splashed into the gutter and her twenty dollar bill fluttered away on a breeze. Nora's fingers clutched at the sudden emptiness in her hand. Losing her last twenty stung, but seeing the kachina, its mask broken and floating in the filth of the gutter, punched a hole in her heart. Even if she didn't believe in its supernatural powers, the old man probably carved his heart into the doll, and it felt wrong to abandon it. She tugged away from the enviro, determined to save the kachina.

He closed his hand around hers and dragged her down the sidewalk into a parking lot. He gently pushed her into the shade next to a building and stood in front of her. “Are you okay?”

If
okay
meant terrified, shaken, and mad enough to spit bullets, then yes, she felt okay. She nodded, trying to catch her breath.

He studied her and bent down to wipe the line of blood from her ankle with the cuff of his sleeve. He stood. “I'm Cole Huntsman.”

From murder attempt to garden party introductions in a matter of seconds. The day went from weird to bizarre. Still, the impeccable manners she was raised with surfaced. “Nora.”

“Hey!” a voice shouted.

Cole swung around, stepping in front of Nora.

Scott strode up to him. “Who are you?”

Of course Scott would be protective against a stranger. Nora hurried to explain. “He helped me get away.”

Scott didn't look pleased, but he didn't start swinging. “Well, thanks. But I was on my way.”

“Cole, this is my husband, Scott Abbott.”

Cole squinted as if assessing. “Scott Abbott.” He stood in awkward silence for a moment, then said, “Well, you don't need me hanging around here so … ” Cole started to walk away.

Nora jumped forward. “Wait.”

A smile, more in his eyes than on his lips, lit Cole's face.

“I just wanted to say thanks.”

He put a finger to his forehead as if tipping his hat, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “Good to meet you, Nora.” He strode out of the parking lot and around the corner.

Nora switched her attention to Scott, eager to feel the safety of his arms around her. He'd come for her. Late, sure, but he was here now.

“Have you had enough, yet?” Scott's eyes flashed with anger.

She'd expected support, and his reaction smacked her upside the head. Once again, her struggle to please him had backfired. She masked her hurt. “As a matter of fact, I have. Enough of struggling to make Kachina Ski earn a living in a drought. Enough of religious freaks and rabid environmentalists and Crazy Horse wannabees sticking their nose in my business. And I've really had enough of you acting like I'm the devil.”

His face didn't soften. “Then walk away from it.”

Scott might as well suggest they buy a ranch on Mars. “I didn't even want to run a ski area! But we're in it now. We can't just give up.”

He shrugged and looked away from her. “I thought it would be fun.”

When she'd been offered Kachina Ski from her late stepfather, she wanted to turn it down. But Scott had practically begged her, promising they'd do it together. But the picture he painted of growing a fruitful business together and raising children free to roam the mountain had faded with the drought. “When we have reliable snow, it
will
be fun,” she said.

He frowned. “We have no right to alter the natural environment for profit.”

What? Mutiny now they'd just won their victory? He had been on board with the fight for snow making in the beginning. She opened her mouth to remind him of the drought-relief snow making would bring to the mountain. But she simply closed her mouth again. It didn't matter what the issue, he rarely agreed with her anymore. Never laughed with her. She couldn't remember the last time he even kissed her.

The stress of the ski business killed their hope. The drought not only sucked the land dry, but her energy and resources as well. If she could get a good year or two, pay down the debt, ease up the pressure on them both, they'd be okay together, she had felt sure of it. Maybe they'd slow down enough to have a baby. Making snow meant making money, and to Nora, that meant saving their marriage as well.

“Scott, when we started this fight you were all for doing whatever it took to keep Kachina Ski alive. What's changed?”

His eyes darted away from hers. “Things.”

Controlling her impatience was like trying to keep a tree upright after the lumberjack had yelled “Timber!” “You said you thought snow making was a good idea.”

Scott shook his head. “That was before.”

“Before
what
?”

He shifted from one foot to another. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

Sudden tears burned. More secrets, when he used to tell her everything. She remembered sitting in a mountain meadow, their packs discarded under a tree. They held hands and Scott told her how he never loved anyone as he loved her. When he laid her down with her back against their mountain and the sun in her eyes, it felt to her that their souls joined in their lovemaking. Now she struggled to get him to talk about his day.

“When have I ever not believed you?” she said.

“Since you stopped believing in anything except cash flows and lines of credit.”

A nice one-two to the heart. “Kachina Ski won't run itself, so someone has to think about the business.”

He glared at her. “See what I mean?”

Idiot.
She always said the wrong thing. “I'm sorry. What changed your mind about snow making?”

“You won't get it.”

“I want to get it. Tell me.”

He leaned against the building. “Okay. Up on the mountain yesterday when I ran the Ponderosa trail, about four miles into it, near the summit … ” He paused as if reluctant to go on.

She and Scott used to run the trails together. Other than this morning, she couldn't recall how long it had been since she'd had time for such outdoor exercise. Now, walking Abbey from the lodge down to Mountain Village constituted a big outing.

Scott started again. “I saw something blue in the trees and I stopped to get a better look.”

Nora froze, suddenly alert.

“It was a guy. I mean, he had arms and legs. He was all decked out in some kind of costume and had a mask. He had a blue sash and held feathers and a hatchet.”

Like her kachina, the one broken and abandon in the gutter or the guy she didn't see in the forest. A hard pit formed in her stomach. “Maybe you caught a Native American in the middle of a ceremony.”

“Yeah, that's what I thought. But I got the feeling he was expecting me.”

She ignored the hairs that stood on her neck.

A thin sheen of perspiration formed above his lip. “It was like the whole forest stopped moving and held its breath.”

“What happened?”

“I started walking toward him and he raised his hatchet.” Scott's eyes lost focus. “He didn't say anything. But it felt like he was warning me.”

“Warning you?”

“He was telling me not to make snow.”

Her belief lost its suspension and crashed to the ground. “What happened then?”

“I took another step toward him and he ran away. I chased him and he darted behind a tree and then … he was gone.”

“Gone?”

“Yeah. Vanished. Like he was never there. I searched all over but never found a trace of him.”

“Let me understand this. Some guy dressed in a kachina outfit met you on the trail and you got the
feeling
he was giving you a message from Native American mythical gods to sabotage your means of livelihood.”

His face closed up.

“And you believe this?” She cringed at the incredulous tone of her own voice.

“See? That's why I didn't tell you.”

“Why, because I have a firm grip on reality? Because I have some perspective?”

His eyebrows drew together. “Because for you everything is black and white.”

“The only reason you can give me for ruining our chance at success is a phantom visit from a mythological spirit. How can you expect me to believe that?”

His ears turned red, a sure sign he was losing his temper. “If you insist on snow making, something bad is going to happen.
”

“Why are you suddenly so against snow making?”

He bristled. “I told you why.” He stared at her a moment. “And …
never mind. Forget it.”

Her teeth clenched so tight against a retort her jaws hurt. “What?”

“If you don't believe the kachina, why should I bother you with anything else?”

“What else?”

“It's best if you don't know.”

He was dismissing her from his life yet again. “Or what? You'll have to kill me?”

He looked worried. “Just don't make snow, okay?”

Nora ached to give Scott everything he wanted and she would, as soon as they started making money. “Scott. This is our only chance at survival.” She wasn't talking about the business.

“Then I'm outta here.” Scott spun around and took off.

She agreed to take over Kachina Ski because he wanted it, and she fought for four years to make it work. She worked seven days a week, filed lawsuits, sat through court hearings. All for Scott, to somehow make him happy so he wouldn't leave her. Hell, she'd even forgiven him for what he did two years ago. She couldn't let her marriage end in a side alley to a parking lot. “Wait!”

When she burst around the corner onto the sidewalk, Big Elk and his usual knot of devotees stared at her from across the street. Cole stood between her and Big Elk's contingent with his arms crossed. Great. She and Scott were afternoon street entertainment like the noon shoot-out reenactment in Tombstone.

She couldn't worry about that now. “Scott! What did you mean?”

He turned around. “I mean I'm done. Finished. Through with Kachina and through with you.”

She negotiated and worked deals in business, fought daunting court battles, and created business plans to make Donald Trump weep. A modern businesswoman to be sure. Yet Scott always managed to have the upper hand with her. She wouldn't beg. Couldn't let herself. “Please, Scott.”
Damn it, have some pride
. “Don't go.”

She could feel the eyes of the crowd on her, sense their interest in her private affairs. Thank goodness her mother, Abigail, was still alive. If not, there would be major grave-rolling-over at this little episode of the
Jerry Springer Road Show
.

Scott's gaze made her feel like a hairy spider crawling across the kitchen floor. “You're strong, Nora. You don't need me.” No more shouting and red ears, just a disgusted shake of his head as he turned.

She watched her husband's back moving away down the sidewalk, dragging her heart on the pavement behind him.