* * *
MONDAY MORNING ARRIVED after another sleepless night of wondering what the day would bring. Shannon dressed in the predawn murk, careful not to awaken Rose. She heard the low whinny of a horse and glanced out the bedroom window toward the corrals. Billy was already up, giving hay to the mustangs. Today was the day the BLM would collect them in a big stock trailer, all but Khola. Shannon would pony up the adoption fee for the bay mustang, not because she really wanted to ride him in the fall fair, but because she’d grown too fond of him to say goodbye.
But how would Khola take it when his companions were loaded into the trailer and he was left behind? And how would her father take the construction machinery growling onto Wolf Butte? How was this day that was beginning in such sweet stillness going to end?
Then she recalled yesterday, and the brief, tender kiss she and Billy had shared over the corral fence before Rose caught them smooching, and her heart warmed. No matter what the day brought, they’d deal with it. Khola would have Sparky and Old Joe to keep him company. She had Rose and her father...and Billy. Whatever life threw at them, they’d deal with it.
She dressed in worn jeans and flannel, carried her boots down the stairs, said the usual subdued “Mornin’,” to her father, who was predictably less cheerful than usual.
She poured herself a mug of coffee and carried it out onto the porch with Tess at her heels, the cool morning air reviving her as much as the caffeine. She heard the first meadowlark give voice to the day long before the yellow streamers of sunlight spilled into the valley. There were no signs of activity on Wolf Butte. All was quiet as the sunrise colored the sky violet and a vibrant golden yellow. She drew a deep breath into her lungs and held it for a few beats while she said a silent prayer for the strength to accept the things she couldn’t change.
Then she carried a thermos of coffee up to the corrals and poured some for Billy. Bareheaded and unshaven, he looked as strong and rugged as the land. He took the offered mug through the corral rails and gestured to the mustangs, who were jostling for position amid the piles of hay he’d divvied up amongst them. “They clean up nice, don’t they? Remember how scruffy they were when they got here?”
“When’s the BLM coming?”
“McTavish said they’d be here before breakfast.”
“I’ll take Khola for a walk, so he won’t see his friends getting trucked away,” Shannon said.
Billy shook his head, took a swallow of strong coffee. “I’ll ride him out to the back line, maybe check out the cross fencing on the leased lots, that’ll keep him occupied. You better stay close to your father. Today’s going to be a hard one.”
Shannon nodded. This wasn’t a day for arguments. “I’ll have breakfast ready when you get back.”
Her father was standing on the porch when she returned, gazing toward Wolf Butte. “Come inside, Daddy,” she pleaded.
He shook his head. “I want to watch the sunrise. I want to remember it this way.”
Melancholy followed Shannon and Tess inside the house. Rose was sitting on the kitchen stairs in her pajamas, hair mussed and cheeks flushed. She felt a rush of love and protectiveness when she looked at her daughter. “Go upstairs and wash the sleep off your face, Sunshine,” Shannon said, pouring herself a second mug of coffee. “The BLM’s coming to pick up those horses this morning, and I don’t want them mistaking you for a wild mustang.”
* * *
IT WAS A morning Billy would never forget. The feel of the strong horse moving beneath him at a rapid walk, the colors of the sunrise staining the landscape in shades of rose and gold and lighting the craggy mountain peaks on fire, the songs of meadowlarks and curlews, the smell of the earth.
He felt more alive than he had in years, full of optimism on a day when his heart should have been on the ground—and would have been, if Shannon hadn’t lifted his spirits into the clouds. The promise of her loyalty and the chance to build a future with her, these were beyond his wildest hopes and dreams. Could he believe in that future? Did a half-breed off the rez deserve it?
When Khola started to bunch up under him, wanting to run, Billy let him. The little bay mustang stretched out beneath him in a burst of power and speed. He let the mustang run flat out until they neared the fence line, then gradually reined him in.
When the horse drew close to the rear gate, he took a chance that he could ease the mustang up next to it, and swing it open.
Khola was lathered up and snorting loudly, full of adrenaline, but he let Billy maneuver him near enough to reach the stiff loop of wire encircling the post. He flipped it off, pushed the gate open and rode out onto the leased BLM lands. McTavish didn’t run cattle out here anymore but he stubbornly kept the leases, believing the old days of making a profit on grass-fed beef would return and times would get better.
Maybe they would, but it wouldn’t be beef cows that improved things. From the way all the Grange members talked, it was going to be wind turbine leases. Billy didn’t want to dwell on that. Not this morning. He was going to have this one last ride across a land that had remained virtually unchanged since he’d first laid eyes on it. He wanted to remember it this way, because he didn’t want to imagine what it was going to look like sprouting hundreds of thrashing and blinking wind turbines far into the distance.
He rode west, away from the ranch, Wolf Butte and the rising sun, so it was easy for him to spot the plume of smoke rising up in the still dawn. He reined Khola in and studied the golden haze lifting off the valley floor ahead of him.
Not smoke. Dust. Dust being kicked up by large animals. Cattle?
Billy squinted hard. No. Horses. He could barely make out the dark figures on the horses’ backs. Hard to tell how many riders were in the group, as they were all bunched up and coming toward him at a trot, perhaps a mile distant and kicking up a lot of dust. Mighty strange sight to see. Nobody ever travelled out here. There were no roads, and people didn’t walk or ride anywhere, not anymore.
He walked Khola in a big circle to keep the mustang moving and cool him off. When the riders drew closer, Billy felt a jolt of surprise. Front and center was none other than his grandfather, Henry Crow Dog. Mighty poor day to be paying a social call, too. McTavish wouldn’t be feeling too hospitable.
Henry rode right up to Billy and reined his horse in. He nodded solemnly. Billy nodded back and tried to count the riders fanning out behind him. Thirty? Maybe more. Horses and riders alike were tired and caked with dust. They were dressed in ceremonial attire. Most were tribal elders, and their horses, beneath the sweat and dust, had been painted as if they were going into battle.
“You look like some kind of war party,” Billy said.
Henry Crow Dog nodded again. “We rode hard to get here. Hardly any rest. Hope we’re not too late.”
“Too late for what?”
“The tribal council filed a lawsuit against the energy company to stop them from harming our sacred burial ground on Wolf Butte. Our dead warriors are buried there, along with McTavish’s wife, Eagle Woman. McTavish told me about the wind project when I was here last. I spoke to the tribal council about it, and we hired an attorney. The papers should be filed in federal court today, but these government things take time, so we came as soon as we could to protect our sacred place.”
Billy sat for a few moments, processing this information. He gazed first at the tribal elders on their tired horses, then at Henry Crow Dog. “Grandfather, they’re starting road construction today. They’re probably already bulldozing the base of the butte.”
Henry Crow Dog nodded again. “We will tell them to go back home.”
“There’s a lot of money at stake here,” Billy said. “This is a big deal in Bear Paw, and the law’s on the wind developer’s side. It’s better to wait for the court order. Things could get ugly if you try to stop them. You’ll probably be arrested, and you could be hurt.”
He
nry Crow Dog stared at Billy as if he hadn’t understood what his grandson had just said. Then he laughed, a low chuckle that rumbled out of his chest. He turned and glanced behind him at the tribal elders, and they all laughed with him. When he spoke again, it was to address the horse Billy was riding. “Khola,” he said. “You are a warrior’s horse. You should be carrying a warrior.”
He kicked his weary mount and rode past Billy without another word. The tribal elders followed, stoic and proud.
Billy’s face burned as they passed him by. He’d fought a different kind of war as an American soldier, but this fight involved his grandfather, his tribe, his history and his ancestral lands. A history he’d always cursed. A half-breed, he’d never felt he belonged in either the white man’s world or with the tribe. Only here, on McTavish’s ranch, had he found his true place.
Shannon had said they could move away and still be a family. But could he abandon this land? Who would he be if he did that? Who did he want to be?
The elders filed past him silently, eyes to the front. The dust raised by their passage coated Khola’s sweaty shoulders and left a bitter taste in Billy’s mouth as he watched them ride away.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SHANNON STOOD BESIDE her father up at the corrals as they watched the gooseneck trailer with the mustangs they’d trained depart down the ranch road. “They said we did a fine job, Daddy,” Shannon said. “I hope those mustangs all find forever homes at the auction. They’re bringing more next month. Twice as many. That’s good, right?”
“At this rate it’ll be a while before we’re millionaires,” McTavish said drily, tucking the check they’d given him into his shirt pocket.
“We could open that mustang camp Billy talked about,” Shannon suggested. “I bet it would catch on quick and help a lot of veterans.”
“Not even shell-shocked combat veterans would want to hang out on a ranch surrounded by wind turbines.”
“Then why don’t we move someplace else? People could learn a lot from you, Daddy. You know so much about training horses and dogs. You’ve worked with so many famous movie stars. The stories you could tell could fill a book.”
Her father said nothing, just closed the corral gate.
She drew Rose up against her legs and stroked her daughter’s silken hair. “Hungry?” she asked.
Rose nodded enthusiastically. “I could eat a horse!”
Shannon laughed. “Don’t let them hear that. C’mon. Billy’ll be back soon and I promised to have breakfast ready.”
“Too late, Momma, here he comes,” Rose said, pointing.
Sure enough, Billy was approaching from the road that went up past the machinery shed. Wearing an expression Shannon couldn’t fathom beneath the brim of his hat, he rode Khola right up to the corral, swung out of the saddle and turned to face them.
“My grandfather and all the tribal elders are headed up to Wolf Butte on horseback,” he announced without preamble. “They’re dressed in full tribal regalia and they’ve painted their horses. Henry told me the tribe filed a court order to stop construction on the butte, due to it being an historic and cultural site.” He looked sharply at McTavish. “Quite a coincidence, them showing up this morning, just one day after we found out about Patriot Energy’s plan to start road construction. They rode all night to get here.”
McTavish met Billy’s gaze with one that would have had Shannon cringing in her boots. She glanced between them. “So, what happens next?”
“Nothing good,” Billy said. “I told Henry to wait for the court order to be filed but they’re heading over to the butte as we speak to protect what they believe is their sacred ground. There’s bound to be trouble.”
“This fight’s not over till it’s over,” her father said. “The Shoshone have a good case against Patriot Energy.”
“All this will do is slow things down. The project’s going to be built, one way or the other.”
“Maybe there’s another option,” Shannon said slowly. “Maybe if Patriot Energy thought this new legal battle with the tribe over Wolf Butte was going to drag things out forever and cost tons of money in legal fees, they might be open to the idea of changing the turbine placement.”
Billy’s eyes narrowed in thought. “In order to bypass McTavish land and the butte, the only place to run transmission lines would be straight across Bannon’s high pastures.”
“So, maybe they could put the line of turbines they were planning to erect on Wolf Butte there instead,” Shannon suggested. “What do you think?”
“It would save Patriot Energy building another couple miles of transmission lines running to Wolf Butte,” Billy concurred, nodding. “They might consider it.”
“Why wouldn’t they? It’s a win-win for everyone. Bannon would get his lease money, Wolf Butte and the historic Shoshone burial and battle grounds will be spared, my mother’s ashes would remain undisturbed, and the eagles she loved could continue to fly in free airspace.”
“Bannon would never consider that option,” her father said stonily. “He wants us to live under those wind turbines and suffer until hell freezes over.”
“It’s worth a shot,” Shannon said. “If we want to protect Wolf Butte, we have to try. I’ll make the pitch to Bannon, but before I go, I’ll call the newspapers and television stations. If Henry Crow Dog’s riding up there with all the tribal elders, the least we can do is make sure the whole world knows about their fight. This is a big story.”
She paused. “I’m sure Henry would appreciate your support,” she said to Billy. “Rose has some bright-colored finger paints, if you want to prepare Khola for battle. I’ll leave them on the table for you.”
“Thanks,” Billy said. “I might just do that.”
“You’ll end up in jail along with the rest of them if you ride up there today,” her father warned.
“Maybe, but there are worse things to be jailed for than standing up for a mountain. For my people.” Billy looked at Khola and the bay mustang gazed back at him with dark, clear eyes. He rubbed the horse’s withers, stroked the damp, sweaty neck, then glanced at Shannon. “Besides, Khola’d look real sharp wearing war paint.”
* * *
SHANNON’S HEART WAS beating fast as she navigated the dirt roads to the Bannon ranch. She hoped she could somehow avert what was sure to be a nasty confrontation on Wolf Butte as well as the media event of the year. She wished Rose had stayed with her grandfather, but she’d pitched a fit when Shannon suggested she remain behind. “I wanna see Henry Crow Dog,” she’d wailed. “Please, Momma, I wanna go, too!”
Would the bulldozers already be at work, building the thirty-foot-wide road to the summit of Wolf Butte? Would Bannon even listen to what she had to say?
She swung up the ranch road leading to the Wolf Butte trail and pulled to a stop. There were lots of pickups, two big dump trucks with equally big trailers and two huge bulldozers that had already started pushing dirt around. Men in hard hats milled about as two news crews started to set up cameras. No sign of Tom Carroll or Boyd Bannon.
She continued on to the Bannons’ house, loose gravel pinging beneath the car as she sped down the dirt road. There were three vehicles there, between the pole barn and the house. “Stay in the car, Rose,” she ordered as she parked and got out. “I’ll be right back.”
At that moment, Boyd Bannon stepped onto the porch, his expression dark as a thundercloud.
“You’re not welcome here, Shannon,” he said, hands on his hips. “Tom Carroll just informed me about the lawsuit the Shoshone filed in federal court today. I know your father’s behind it.” Mrs. Bannon stepped out behind her husband, and Miranda edged out from around her mother. Shannon thought she caught a glimpse of Tom Carroll inside the doorway but couldn’t be sure.
“Please, Mr. Bannon, just listen to what I have to say.” Shannon’s mouth was dry and her palms were sweaty. “It
’s true that Wolf Butte has historic significance to the Shoshone, and to my father and me it has a deeply personal significance, as well. So what I’m proposing is, instead of wasting a lot of time and money fighting the lawsuit, why not move those turbines from Wolf Butte to your high pastures instead? They’d be a lot closer to the rerouted transmission lines.”
“No.”
“You’d still get your lease payments and the Shoshone could preserve their ceremonial place and burial grounds.”
“That’s my land, and I’ll do with it what I want. Now get off my ranch. I won’t say it again.”
“Please, Mr. Bannon...”
“Do I have to call the sheriff?”
“He’s probably already out at the access road,” Shannon said. “The tribal elders are up on Wolf Butte, preparing for a standoff. There’s a lot of media, too. This is going to be a big story.”
“I should’ve figured your father would pull a last-minute stunt like this.”
“It doesn’t have to be so ugly. Everyone could win if we just compromised. I know it’s your land, but I’m prepared to buy it off you, if you’d consider selling it to me.”
“No McTavish will ever own that land,” Bannon spat out.
“It’s a thousand acres of scrub brush and rock. That’s what you always say.” Mrs. Bannon spoke up in an unexpectedly tart tone of voice. “You can’t hay up there and you can’t grow crops or graze animals because they might fall off the cliffs. You always said Wolf Butte was good-for-nothing land the town was taxing you for.”
“That was before we could lease it for the wind turbines,” Bannon growled at his wife.
“How much, Mr. Bannon?” Shannon said. “How much would you sell a thousand acres of scrub brush and rock for?”
“Every single one of those turbine leases pays me three thousand dollars a year and the lease runs for twenty years. Twenty years.”
A Family For Rose Page 21
