Tainted Mountain by Shannon Baker Page A

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.”
    â€œThere’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?”
    â€œCan’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.
    â€œYou 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.
    â€œHer husband fell off a cliff and died this morning. I was out there when they found him. I took Nora to the hospital.”
    â€œWhat 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.”
    â€œDid she report it?” Alex Seweingyawma. It had to be. He was supposed to be locked up on Barrett’s orders.
    â€œDid 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