Tainted Mountain

by Shannon Baker

  Heather pulled her hand back and swung, smacking Barrett on his cheek with such force it snapped his head back.

  They stood toe to toe, breathing hard and staring at each other.

  Heather’s lips peeled back in a snarl. “I hate you.”

  Even taking into account her teenaged hormones, the words hurt far worse than his stinging cheek. “But I love you. More than you can know.”

  She walked slowly out of the room, leaving the door ajar.

  Barrett sank to his desk chair. He felt her tugging at the blood that bound them together; had felt it for some time now.

  Keeping Heather safe in the moment carried urgency, but her long-term security depended on the new uranium mining. Individually, the problems didn’t amount to much, but each cog had to work or the whole thing would fall apart.

  The congressional committee needed to release the lands they’d temporarily withdrawn. Huntsman had the credentials to give convincing testimony, but he had a troublesome individual streak. Even if he performed for the committee, he might give Barrett problems later on. He was much smarter than Scott, after all, and look how that had turned out.

  And there were protesters, specifically that loose cannon Charlie Podanski and the troublemaker Big Elk, constantly in Barrett’s way. Barrett would love to smash them, but he had to tread lightly to keep from creating a public relations debacle. Big Elk was a smarmy fake and Barrett could dispatch him easily enough with cash. But Barrett knew Charlie to be relentless and once he got started, he wouldn’t quit. Luckily no one really listened to him.

  Then there was Nora Abbott. Tough in business but young and easy to manipulate. Now that her husband was gone, she’d need strong guidance. Who better than a wealthy mentor? She shouldn’t pose much trouble.

  And the Hopi had agreed to recommend mining on their lands, but he couldn’t count on them absolutely until their X was on the line.

  “Barrett.” Cole Huntsman’s voice startled him out of his plans.

  “Jesus.” He had a meeting and he’d completely forgotten about it. I must be losing my fucking mind. He never used to forget anything.

  Barrett rose from the desk and waved Cole in. “Just finishing an overseas call.”

  “Thought it might be something like that when no one answered the door. Hope you don’t mind that I let myself in.” Cole had a country bumpkin face that made him look harmless. It didn’t fool Barrett.

  “Glad you did,” Barrett said. “I’ve been working on our testimonies for the hearing.”

  One eyebrow arched on Cole’s forehead. “Our testimonies? I figured on speaking for myself.”

  “Of course. These are just some thoughts to coordinate our message.”

  “Right.” That sincere drawl and perpetually friendly face would play nicely at the hearings.

  Barrett picked up a stack of papers from his desk and handed them to Cole. He lowered himself back into his chair. “Sit down and we’ll get to work.”

  Cole took the papers and wandered over to the window, his eyes on Kachina Mountain. He acted as if he had all the time in the world, like he operated on Navajo time. Cowboys and Indians—with their disregard for time, it was a wonder the West was ever settled.

  Cole glanced at the pages Barrett prepared for the hearing. “Releasing those claims might be a tough sell to the committee.”

  Another shovelful of coal was added to his heartburn. Goddamned Interior Department withdrawing lands he needed for expansion of uranium mining. “That’s why we’ve got to coordinate our efforts.”

  Cole nodded. “Be easier if we had a champion.”

  Barrett could ease Cole’s mind by telling him about a guaranteed vote or two, assured by Barrett’s behind-the-scenes tactics. But the less Cole—or anyone else—knew about that, the safer for Barrett.

  Cole read silently for a moment. “What do you know about a Charlie Podanski?”

  Barrett’s neck hairs bristled. “He’s a kook. Why?”

  Cole shrugged. “I hear he’s a radical and can disrupt things like hearings. And that he doesn’t like you. Is there anything he can use against you in this?”

  Despite himself, Barrett laughed. “He’s past his prime. Keep tabs on him, but I doubt he’ll amount to much.”

  Cole didn’t seem to mind chunks of silence in a meeting. Finally, he said, “I’ve got a concern about the groundwater.”

  Barrett’s balls sucked into his belly. “Groundwater? How so?”

  Cole continued to look at the mountain.

  Does he know something? Impossible. Does he suspect?

  “I’m not convinced about the stability of the breccia pipe formation. Even with the in situ method, there is risk of crumbling and some of the debris leaking into the groundwater. I’m wondering if anyone on the other side will challenge it.”

  Barrett leaned back in his chair, the well-oiled springs silent. “This has all been researched. Hell, you did most of it yourself.”

  The shaggy head nodded. “Might be something I missed someone else caught.” Cole moved in slow motion to a leather Morris recliner and sat. He slouched, his long legs stretched in front of him. “When’s the last time you logged the water? Wouldn’t mind updating our records.”

  No one needed to find what Abbott’s logs revealed. “We’ve got surveys up the ass, most of which you conducted, that say mining uranium up here is perfectly safe. We had functioning test wells and the green light on everything until this goddamned moratorium. In a few days we’re going to give sincere and heartfelt testimony before the congressional committee and get them to release the claims.”

  “There’s no evidence to contradict those surveys?”

  Barrett didn’t need an employee questioning his decisions. But he did need the esteemed Cole Huntsman on his side. “The surveys are up to date. Let’s just get past this hearing. Then you can do more testing. If we see it isn’t safe to the groundwater, we’ll back off. I’m not interested in polluting the whole Colorado River, for Christ’s sake. I’ve a proven track record with respect to the environment.”

  No change in expression. “Track records don’t mean much against new information. We need to be extra careful.”

  Cole had joined McCreary energy two years ago. He was a damned good miner and carried a lot of weight in the industry. For some reason, people respected that “aw shucks” personality. He acted humble and down home, but his brilliance in matters of mining and his reputation for environmental ethics were legend. It surprised Barrett that he wanted to work for McCreary since he leaned more toward granola sensibilities than the hard reality of big energy. Barrett figured the cowboy had decided it was time to make some money.

  But maybe the cowboy had another agenda. Barrett studied him. “Why all the questions?”

  “Can’t go into combat without bullets.”

  The day suddenly piled up on Barrett. He stood, signaling the end of the meeting. “Look over those notes. Be sure to hit the talking points in your testimony.”

  Cole rose slowly. “Sorry I was late getting here. Had something come up this afternoon.”

  Barrett walked toward the door, trying to usher Cole out. He wanted nothing more than bourbon and Patsy Cline.

  “You know that ski area owner, Nora Abbott?” Cole asked cas-

  ually.

  Barrett’s skin pricked. Cole may sound offhanded but if he mentioned the Abbott woman, there would be some thinking going on under that hillbilly mask. Barrett tilted his head to indicate slight interest.

  “Her husband fell off a cliff and died this morning. I was out there when they found him. I took Nora to the hospital.”

  “What a tragedy.” What was Cole doing out there?

  Cole wasn’t making much progress toward the door. “Just before that, some Native American guy attacked her.”

  This was news. “Attacked her
?”

  Cole nodded. “Yep. Came right in the lodge and tried to kill her. It was that same guy that pulled a knife on the courthouse steps. Big guy.”

  “Did she report it?” Alex Seweingyawma. It had to be. He was supposed to be locked up on Barrett’s orders.

  “Did you know Scott Abbott?”

  Shit. Why would Cole even ask? Barrett shrugged and stepped into the hallway, making it plain he expected Cole to follow. “No.”

  Finally Cole made moves to wrap up the meeting. He offered Barrett his manly Western handshake and walked away, business conducted.

  Barrett pivoted, already focused on fixing the Alex Seweingyawma problem. He was halfway to his desk when the thought struck.

  Scott Abbott had accosted him at the courthouse. Cole was there too. Did Cole see it? Did he just catch Barrett in the lie?

  No, wait. Cole had run off to rescue Nora Abbott on the courthouse steps. He didn’t see Barrett’s encounter with Scott. Probably.

  Goddamned loose ends.

  Eight

  Raw, throbbing, and aching for relief. But it went on and on.

  After two hours of standing on the side of the mountain listening to Scott’s friends tell stories and give tribute, Nora’s pain had reached maximum force. Her agony had little to do with the bruise on her cheek, sore throat, and black-and-blue neck from the attack. The beer, lugged in coolers from the trailhead of Kachina Ski, dwindled to a few bottles and the speeches gave way to anecdotes.

  At least Abigail wasn’t here to hate this casual funeral, or whatever they were calling it. Nora wanted to honor Scott and give his friends a chance to say goodbye. Now, at the end of her ability to maintain control, she simply wished it would end.

  Nora leaned against Charlie, glad for his loyal, if a little beer-bleary, support. Abbey lay at her feet, content to snooze in the dappled shade of the pines.

  Charlie put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “Mighty fine sendoff. Scott had a boatload of friends, both here and from other places.”

  People flocked to Scott. He knew how to have fun. It always amazed her that someone so full of life and mischief would hook up with someone serious like her. At first she hadn’t trusted it, hadn’t trusted him. But he charmed her and won her over so completely that after seven years she didn’t know where he started and she ended. So many women wanted to be with Scott, but he’d chosen Nora to be his wife.

  One of Scott’s buddies finished his story. “Scott pointed his skis down, took that jump, and landed like a giant snowball. He rolled down the mountain. We thought he broke at least twenty bones. But when we got there he was brushing snow off, like, ‘Dudes, what took you so long?’ ” The friend raised his bottle. “You got there first again, man. Guess you couldn’t wait.”

  A few people murmured, most raised their bottles at the simple hat-sized pine box Nora had picked out for Scott’s ashes.

  After a moment of silence, Nora sucked in a breath. She planned to dump his ashes over the side of the mountain and leave him in a place he loved.

  Charlie’s watery eyes filled with compassion.

  How could she let him go? She could scatter Scott’s ashes anytime. It didn’t have to be now. Nora stepped from under Charlie’s arm and turned to the knot of people. Since trekking up the mountain, Nora had drawn in her body tight so she wouldn’t fly apart. She knew his friends had gathered by the sounds of shuffling feet and murmurs. She hadn’t been able to turn and see them all.

  She inhaled deeply and swallowed. “Thank you for coming. This is the way Scott would have chosen that we celebrate his life.” Celebrate his life. Who comes up with this crap?

  Abbey stood and stretched. He settled his silky head under Nora’s dangling fingers.

  They stepped forward, hugged her, kissed her, said variations of, “if there’s anything I can do.” She smiled and accepted that they loved Scott and cared for her. But she wanted to be alone.

  Charlie and Nora stood by the box as everyone else wandered away. God, when would this end? A mass of blonde drew Nora’s attention to the edge of the clearing, where people were starting to make their way down the trail.

  A big-ass ugly mule kicked Nora’s belly, followed by instant nausea. That face always caused the same reaction.

  Charlie followed Nora’s line of vision. “You got something against that girl?”

  The blonde threw her arms around one of Scott’s cycling buddies. She sobbed into his chest, and he patted her back.

  Already tender, Nora’s emotions shredded into piles of gore. “I can’t believe her nerve.”

  Charlie took a step down the trail. “If you don’t want her here, I’ll send her on her way.”

  Nora didn’t want to remember that face. Two years ago, the night she’d driven to town for a beer. Alone because Scott was supposedly competing in a bike race in Utah, she stepped into the bar. She expected happy greetings from friends, but their faces froze. It took about two seconds to see Scott cozied up to that athletic blonde at a back table.

  Just seeing that bleached head of spun shit brought back the pain, humiliation, and betrayal. Nora wanted to honor Scott today, not relive that pain.

  Charlie put a hand on Nora’s arm. “Looks like she’s ready to leave.”

  Nora stomped to the rock and picked up Scott’s box. “She’s got no breeding.” And doesn’t that sound just like Abigail. Gaa!

  The tethers of her control snapped. She sprinted toward the blonde, weighted down by the heavy pine box.

  Abbey let out a bark and raced with her.

  “Hey. Honey, wait,” Charlie called.

  Outrunning Charlie wasn’t hard. Nora’s vision narrowed to a red laser focused on the tacky blonde. The bimbo turned just as Nora slammed into her side, driving her into a tree like a croquet ball.

  The girl regained her balance. “What the hell?”

  Abbey bowed his front legs and barked, tail wagging.

  The two guys with the bimbo stood back—just the cowardly sort of friends she deserved.

  “How dare you show up here today.” Nora fought the urge to slam Scott’s box into the girl’s nose.

  Silence fell for a moment while the woman stared at Nora.

  Charlie caught up to them. He waved his arm at the blonde as if she were a wasp. “Go on. You’re not wanted.”

  Nora’s words spit at her. “Don’t you have any pride? I’m his wife.” Was his wife.

  The girl narrowed her eyes and glared at Nora. “How long do you think he stayed away from me?” When Nora didn’t answer, she said, “Try two weeks.”

  Blood rushed through Nora’s ears. This wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. They’d been trying to put their marriage back on track for almost two years.

  The bimbo nodded. “That’s right. There is a lot about him you don’t know.”

  Breathe. Stand up. Do not fall apart. Pride was all that kept her alive.

  “He used to call you Mom. You squeezed the life out of him. That’s why he came to me.”

  Despite Herculean effort, Nora slumped against Charlie.

  Charlie held out his palm. “You stop talking now.”

  Bimbo stuck the dull knife in farther. “He planned on leaving. He almost had enough saved for us to leave together. But you found out and you killed him!”

  Money? “Liar.” She pulled away from Charlie. “There was no money.”

  The smug look on Bimbo’s face infuriated Nora. “Maybe Scott felt sorry for you and didn’t want to hurt you. But I won’t protect you.”

  Charlie shooed her away. “You’re out of line.”

  Bimbo shouted at Nora. “You didn’t know anything about him. He had a job, his ticket to freedom. That’s what he said. And he was finally going to leave.” Suddenly she broke down in heaving sobs. “And now he’s gone.”

  Nora couldn’t feel her
own body.

  Tears streaked Bimbo’s makeup. With her red eyes and dripping nose, she looked more like the grieving widow than did Nora. Bimbo shrieked and ran at Nora. “And I know you did it. You killed him. I know it!”

  Bimbo drew her arm back and swung toward Nora’s face. Just before her palm slapped Nora’s cheek, a hand shot out from behind Nora and caught Bimbo on the wrist.

  Abbey set up a string of agitated barking.

  Cole Huntsman lowered the woman’s arm, giving her a fierce look. “Leave her alone.”

  No one moved for a full three seconds. Then the two guys, Bimbo’s cowardly friends, shrouded her and spirited her down the trail.

  Nora’s knees trembled. She bent over and heaved, the acid of bile burning her sore throat.

  Charlie appeared at her side, grabbing a handful of her hair and patting her back.

  Strength trickled back. It didn’t matter how many deaths Scott died to her, she would have to keep breathing. She stood and stared into the forest, gathering her forces.

  The branches, logs, flowers, and shrubs shifted from fog to focus and she realized she was staring, not at a Ponderosa as she’d expected, but at a man. Or at least he seemed like it. He wore a mask, the scary kind with the slit eyes and plug mouth. His clothes and body paint jumbled in a tangle of blue and red. This living vision of the kachina doll the little man had forced on her sent chills racing over her skin. He only had to spring forward and raise his hatchet to hack her to pieces.

  Nora cried out.

  Charlie patted her back. “Let it out.”

  She glanced down, backing away. When she swung back to avoid his attack, the man was gone. She pointed. “Where did he go?”

  Cole whirled around and studied the forest. “Who?”

  “That guy. That Native American.” Even to her it sounded crazy. But there were plenty of people who would like to harm Nora. Seeing strange men in the forest—and then not seeing them—freaked her out.

  Cole pushed his hair from his forehead. “I’ll check it out.” He started away.

  The whole thing stank. “What are you doing here?”