Heather clicked her door closed. “Grades are just white man’s way to control and catalogue people.”
“You have to at least pass to make it into community college.”
She shrugged. “Even if I wanted to go to college—which I don’t—all you’d have to do is fund a science building and I’m in.”
His jaw clenched. The women he loved most in the world could always ignite his temper. But not Abigail. He may not feel the same passion for her as he did Ester, but passion was overrated. Just the thought of her feminine and pleasing ways soothed him. “Bring your grades up next year or we’ll be looking at military schools.”
Abigail waved from the deck. Her soft blond hair glimmered in the sun and her trim body was draped in well-fitted slacks. So unlike Ester, but he found her immensely appealing. He allowed the five-second fantasy full run. By the time he and Heather climbed the stairs, he’d had his imaginary climax and stubbed out his imaginary cigarette.
Abigail took Heather’s hand. “How was the meeting with the counselor?” Abigail was a good influence on Heather and measured up as a suitable companion for him.
While Heather complained about the unfair American educational system, he turned his attention on Nora. She sat on a bench with her foot elevated. Ignoring Charlie next to her, he said, “Feeling any better?”
Abigail pulled herself away from Heather. “She’s in some pain, of course. But she’s managing with over-the-counter painkillers. She was lucky.”
“The company agreed to give us the hose at half price.” Barrett had argued a half hour to convince them the discount trumped a lawsuit for negligence. “Of course, it’s not worth the pain you’re going through.”
She didn’t seem as pleased as he expected. “It wasn’t their fault. They should get the full cost.”
“The hose didn’t jump off the truck on its own. There has to be recourse for poor safety procedures,” he said.
Abigail’s pleasant smile slipped from her face. “No, Barrett. It wasn’t an accident. Someone cut the straps.”
Heather’s small gasp said it all. Alex was at it again. Still, it wouldn’t hurt Barrett’s feelings if Alex eliminated Nora.
“Did you talk to the police?” Barrett asked.
Even Abigail’s folded arms appeared feminine. “Of course. But that Gary is more interested in Scott’s life insurance, which was paltry by the way, and some alleged threat Nora made to Scott’s mistress at the funeral.”
His deepest protection instinct kicked in, as well as his male pride. Abigail needed the shelter he could provide. “I’ll hire a detective and get to the bottom of this.”
Nora gave a weary sigh. “Great. What I’m really concerned about is the snow making. The pipe is fine. But the sprayers you ordered are all wrong. I stopped the order this morning.”
Abigail drew in a breath. “Won’t that slow the process?”
Nora nodded, keeping her focus on Barrett. “I doubt we’ll get delivery until early spring.”
Temper swirled below the surface of his control. “That’s ridiculous. Do you realize how much that delay will cost us?”
Nora bristled. “I’ve been running this place for a few years; I think I know the costs. But the sprayers I ordered are more fuel efficient, less noisy, and generally more environmentally friendly.”
“Don’t give me the fuel efficiency line. And the noise issue is moot since they run at night when no one is here. You’re afraid to move forward.” It was hard to stay calm when he’d rather smack her.
“Nora, we do not cave to eco-terrorists,” Abigail said.
At least Abigail stood on his side. “You’ve had threats for years.”
Nora struggled to her feet. “I won’t deny I’m scared and worried about protecting Abigail. But this mountain needs care too. I’ll do what’s right for it.”
Charlie raised his fist. “Right on.”
“For just once listen to someone else, Poppy,” Heather said.
Barrett sent Heather a scathing glare. “You’re in enough trouble right now.” He looked at Nora and tried to sound soothing. “You’re obviously distraught. Let’s give this a day or so and we’ll discuss it again. If you still want to delay snow making by changing the equipment, of course I’ll abide by your decision.”
Big Elk’s little buddy better hurry up or I might have to take care of Nora myself. Barrett noticed Charlie narrow his eyes and stare at him. What a waste of skin that guy is.
Abigail brushed her hands together at the job well done. “Letting it sit for a while sounds reasonable. I’ve got a pitcher of iced tea. Let’s enjoy the beautiful sunshine.”
To make Nora feel less attacked, Barrett backed off a few steps. He glanced down into a large cardboard box. He had a meeting with Big Elk tomorrow and would encourage the Alex situation—
His mind registered what his eyes had been reading for the last seconds. Logging records. Water composition. Well numbers. Signed by Scott Fucking Abbott.
Proof. Goddamned evidence that Scott worked for Barrett and of exactly what he discovered. Barrett struggled to hide all emotion. He had to get that box, destroy it. Right now.
“Iced tea sounds nice, but Heather has already missed several hours of work. She needs to earn her keep.” He gestured toward the box, concentrating on not letting his hand shake. “This looks like a box of old records that needs burning.”
Nora collapsed to the bench, all fight sucked out of her. “Yes. Burning.”
He reached down and picked up the box. Slowly, no rush. Don’t act desperate. “I’ll help Heather take it around back.”
Nora looked like a whipped dog. “Good idea.”
Abigail nodded approval.
Barrett hefted the box. “Let’s go, Heather.”
“Wait.” Nora looked up.
No! Burn it now. Do it.
Nora stood and hobbled across the deck. “Leave the box.”
Abigail rushed to throw Nora’s arm over her shoulder for support. “You need to let it go.”
Nora’s face was little more than enormous, tortured eyes. “Leave it.”
Barrett inhaled slowly. “Of course. Where would you like me to put it?” Goddamn it!
Abigail frowned, arguing wordlessly with Nora. Just as mute, Nora held firm.
Barrett wanted to close his hands around Nora’s scrawny neck and wring the life from her.
Abigail finally relented and sighed. “Let’s put it upstairs for now, shall we? In the back of a closet perhaps.”
Way to the back, where Nora wouldn’t want to retrieve it and where he could snatch it before she ever got the courage to look at the incriminating reports.
Nineteen
Nora rolled over for the billionth time, her wrapped ankle wadding up the sheet. Across the hall, Abigail slept like a baby. Except babies don’t snore like lumberjacks. Maybe she exaggerated. Abigail’s snoring sounded more like a soft purr.
Nora couldn’t sleep anyway. Like worms chewing into her guts, apprehension gnawed at her. She felt a growing resistance to making snow and the only reason she could name was that it felt wrong. Which was pretty much what Scott had been telling her before he died.
Of course having Barrett on her side was a good thing. He knew how to make money. She should be grateful for his help. But he wasn’t helping; he was running things. And the closer they got to pumping water onto the mountain, the more uneasy Nora felt. At least she got the right sprayers. One small victory.
Abbey woofed on the deck below the apartment. His claws scratched the wood as he scrambled to his feet.
Nora tossed off the covers and stumbled to her bedroom window. Her ankle still throbbed but felt stronger all the time. She slid the window open farther and leaned out to see Abbey. He barked again, focused on the woods.
Resting her hands on the ledge, she stared into t
he dark forest. It was as if electricity didn’t exist and the stars jumped from the sky like footlights on a stage.
How many summer nights had she and Scott cuddled in a sleeping bag on the slope and stared at those amazing stars? They’d talked and laughed and made love, caught up in the magic and the newness of owning Kachina Ski and living in such a beautiful place.
Just as the chasm in her heart started to crack and bleed, she hardened it. How often had he done the same thing with Maureen? The stars were just cosmic facts, not divine sparks, and Scott proved to be nothing more than a common cheater. Nora lowered her eyes to the forest and that’s when she saw the distinct flicker of fire.
Abbey barked for real now. He ran down the stairs, high-tailing it for the forest.
Nora’s skin froze. Maybe the pinpoint of light deep in the trees was Alex’s dying fire and right now he snuck through the forest, planning to slit their throats.
“Abbey!” Like the well-trained and obedient dog he was, Abbey kept on barking and running across the slope.
Abigail snored on. Should she wake her and head for town? But they would have to get to the parking lot—Alex could jump them on the way. Should she call the cops? And tell them what? That someone was camping in the woods, on public lands, for which they have every legal right.
She strained to see the flame but lost sight of its glow. In the old days—just two weeks ago—when she’d taken the time to look at the mountain, the sky, or the forest, she saw nature’s beauty. Now it seemed she was constantly squinting into the shadows looking for danger.
Abbey stopped at the edge of the trees and kept barking.
The campfire either flickered its way out or was deliberately doused. The only lights now came from the stars and they refused to help Nora.
Without warning a fireball ignited at the edge of the slope.
Nora gasped. The flames leapt higher than a man. But there was nothing except green grass where it burned, no fuel to feed a fire. It looked like an independent monster, living on its own.
Abbey dove into the shadows. A moment later, his bark turned to a yelp of pain.
“Abbey!” Nora spun from the window, her heart pounding like an unbalanced washing machine. She pulled on her jeans and awkwardly shoved her feet into shoes, gasping at the discomfort in her ankle. She grabbed the flashlight by the door and took the stairs two at a time, keeping more of her weight on her good leg. She paused at the deck railing and stared into the trees. Abbey made no sound.
The fireball slipped up the slope for several yards and then turned into the forest. It moved with the jerky gait of a runner, but it was quicker than any sprinter Nora had ever seen.
Was it Alex? For all she knew, it could be Cole out there running up and down with some high-tech eco-terrorist lantern. Except it didn’t look like a real person running. It moved too quickly, with random fits and starts. But where was Abbey?
Nora raced across the open ski run as best she could, dew quickly wetting her shoes. Despite the chilly mountain air, a film of sweat covered her body and her heart rampaged against her ribs. After several yards, she didn’t even feel the pain in her ankle.
Nora searched the forest ahead but didn’t see Abbey, a flare, a dying campfire, or anything except thick darkness. Picturing the fireball, she slowed her paced and tried to figure where it would have gone. She entered the trees, her breath sounding like a freight engine.
The moon gave scant light. She was no stranger to nighttime on the mountain, but this was no jaunty moonlit hike.
Nora gripped the flashlight, expecting Alex to jump from behind every tree, his knife poised for her throat.
“Abbey!” To her left the night lit up. Abbey barked. Fire. It blazed too far away to make out any details, but the ball of flame appeared to be about the size of a laundry basket and it hovered six feet off the ground. It was definitely not a campfire because it moved, winking in and out behind trees. The flame slipped through the forest about 50 yards uphill and Nora took off after it, following Abbey’s excited bark.
Nora chased the fire through the pines, stumbling over fallen logs and piles of brush, wondering what the hell she’d do if she caught up to it, not even sure what “it” was. Did she expect to beat it to embers with her flashlight? Was it Alex with some Native American flame carrier?
She followed the light uphill until her thighs burned and ankle protested despite the adrenaline, then turned back toward the ski run and downhill, executing a circle. Abbey barked occasionally but now it sounded more like play. The closer she came to where she entered the forest, the more nervous Nora grew. Just before the flame stepped—if stepped was even the right word—out of the trees, the light disappeared.
Nora stopped and Abbey trotted out of the trees toward her, nose to the ground. He whined and sniffed at the edge of the clearing.
Nora knelt and ran her hands over Abbey. He licked her face once but had more interest in smelling the forest. He seemed just fine.
“Pas pay um waaynuma.” The quiet voice made Nora gasp and spin around.
The little kachina salesman stepped out from behind a tree, the top of his head nearly two feet lower than the fireball had been.
Nora tried to keep from bolting. “Who are you?”
“You must protect dis moun-ain.”
Abbey shoved his muzzle in the man’s hand. The little man greeted Abbey as if they were friends, speaking to him in a quiet, guttural speech.
Nora gripped the flashlight, doubting she’d need to defend herself physically from this gentle man. But he was just plain scary in the forest in the middle of the night. Strangely, she felt like she needed to justify herself. “I’m not out to ruin Kachina Peak.”
He spoke in soft, halting accent. “You can do much good. Or you can do much harm. You choose.”
The fear and anger that propelled her on this foolhardy journey clung to her. “What is that fire? Why are you here?”
“You love dis moun-ain. You mus’ care for it.” His words fell to the forest floor with no inflection.
She turned away from him and searched the trees for Alex.
“Bad men are here.” A speck of sadness shone in his eyes in the moonlight. “Do not understand the Hopi way.”
“If slicing me with knives, strangling me, and crashing freight on me is the Hopi way, I think they understand it just fine.”
“Hopi is balance,” he said.
The fireball was gone, she didn’t see Alex anywhere, and cold seeped under her skin. She wanted to go home. “Are you here to tell me not to make snow?”
His eyes showed an intensity not evident in his voice. “You are protector of our moun-ain.”
“I’m not Hopi.”
He shrugged. “You love our sacred peak.”
Was she really having a conversation with a shriveled Native American in the forest in the middle of the night?
“Watch for spirits of the moun-ain,” he said. “Beware men speaking for Hopi. They do not speak our true way.”
“You want me to watch for kachinas?”
If doing the kachinas’ bidding made her end up living like this little guy did, she’d say no thanks. It was impossible to tell when he’d showered last, if ever. Come to think of it, he had no smell. Dust covered his black hair down to his thick moccasins. He looked like nothing more than skin and bones and bad teeth, a walking lifetime of malnutrition.
He inclined his head and words formed in slow succession. “Watch for giver of fire, spirit of death, owner of upper world. No hair, no eyelashes. Skin marked with scars of many burns.”
“Sounds like an attractive guy.”
The little man didn’t acknowledge her sarcasm. “He should not be living on our moun-ain dis time of year. But there is loss of balance.”
“Is he the one running around here with the fire?”
“Do not m
eet him face to face. No man can look upon his face.”
With no eyebrows and scars, who would want to?
“Nora!” The sound of Cole’s voice boomed in the still night. He jogged down the trail from deeper in the forest.
Nora sucked in a breath to quiet her startled heart. “What are you doing here?”
He stopped in front of her. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
“Why? Are you here to hurt me?”
Cole clenched his teeth. “I’m out here trying to keep you safe—apparently, from your own stupidity.”
She needed to get out of here, back to the safety of home and to check on her mother. “I don’t need your protection. I’ve got this guy here keeping watch over the forest.”
“What guy?”
She knew before she turned that the little man had vanished. “Never mind. I may not understand what this fireball thing is or how you’re doing it, but I want you to stop.”
Cole pushed his hair off his forehead. He stared at her a few seconds and let out a breath. Good. He was going to confess. “I saw it too. What do you think it is? I followed it but couldn’t catch up to it.”
“Right.”
His head shot up as if she’d slapped him. “I’m not your enemy, Nora. I’ve been camping out here for days keeping watch. You don’t seem to understand the danger you’re in.”
Damn right. She needed more protection than a flashlight if she continued to stand in the forest with a virtual stranger who just admitted to spying on her.
“Big Elk is messing around up here on the mountain. I think it has something to do with the lava tubes,” he said.
She stared at him.
“You know about them, right?”
“I know about the opening next to that old plane crash site. There are more?”
He nodded. “The tubes crisscross the mountain and have openings all over. It’s like a tunnel system. My Hopi friend told me about them. I’m not sure what Big Elk is doing with them, though.”
Tainted Mountain Page 12
