CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Holder had trouble keeping up with Helen as she descended the ridge at a near run. She skipped lightly down a switchback trail of her own making, shale sliding at her feet.

She didn’t look back, not even to see whether he was behind her. But he was making progress as best he could in cowboy boots. What did she think she was going to do, anyway, once they caught up with the rez girl? Get her own hands dirty? Fat chance of that happening.

The wind whipped mercilessly, and Holder was glad he’d traded his cowboy hat and denim jacket for a pair of coveralls and an insulated hunting cap with earflaps.

“Left,” he said from behind her, and motioned with one long arm to the west. It pleased him that he was the only one who knew where to find the girl, that he’d tracked her so long and so well.

When they reached a plateau Helen stopped short, then jogged in place to stay warm.

The freezing rain was turning to snow. It drifted into piles set against clumps of bluestem and a nearby stand of red cedars and, miles from where they stood, a van tipped into a ditch that pointed like a finger toward Crawl Canyon.

Holder was sick of the mayor riding his ass, especially when he was the one doing the work. He was the one sticking his neck out, taking all the risk, and all she did was complain. Reminded him of his long-gone mother, she did, the anger spinning out from her like a heat wave. He’d been too powerless then, too young to get a city job and bring some money in. The bank seized the farm. His parents had stewed in their anger until it obliterated their family. It was an old wound, and the money he was about to make was going to heal it.

There was nothing he wouldn’t do to change his fortune. All those years, he’d bided his time, knowing the right opportunity would come. Faith, that’s how he thought of it. Faith.

He was going to own this town.

“Over there,” he said.

They worked their way ever lower, looking for an easy path to slide into the ravine, Helen holding on to the sleeve of his coveralls to keep from falling.

“I’m not losing everything over a beetle,” Helen said.

“Wouldn’t matter whether it was a beetle or somethin’ else,” Holder said. “Could be a blind cave spider like the ones that jammed up that rancher in Texas. Hell, ever hear of the lesser prairie-chicken? Ask any rancher in western Kansas and they’ll tell you, if you see one of these so-called endangered birds on your land, keep it quiet. Otherwise, Fish and Game will come around to have a look-see, and you won’t have a say in what you do with your land anymore. The fines alone would—”

“And guess what will happen if this deal falls through,” Helen interrupted. “You won’t get a dime—that’s what. Know what I should do? Find some other route to the oil on the reservation, let some other landowner make all that money.”

Holder thought of his mother, the way she’d exploded or drifted into days-long silence. He knew what poverty could do.

“I can’t believe I have to be out here to make sure you do your job. You think I have time for this? I have a city to run.” She looked up at Holder. “And I put this complex project together, not you. You think Antell is easy to work with? You think Blackstream Oil goes around just handing out money? And the tribal council? It’s a miracle we have an agreement at all.”

They reached the bottom of the ravine.

“Not far now,” he said, and held a gloved finger up to his mouth like a secret.

“After today I don’t want any part of it,” she whispered angrily. “After you take care of this problem we have out here”—she waved her arms—“I don’t want you to contact me anymore. Get rid of the girl; then that’s it. We’re done.”

“Quiet,” said Holder, fighting to keep his voice low. “You need to stop pushing. You hear me?”

“You just make sure we find her,” Helen said. “It should have been done already. I shouldn’t have to micromanage every little thing you can’t take care of on your own. You had one job. One job. And you can’t even do that properly.”

Holder’s hand curled around a loose stone embedded in the wall of the ravine. He knew without even looking that he could palm it like a basketball, could feel the winning shot at his fingertips.

“Don’t you forget, Holder, we’re in this together. If the oil deal falls through with the rez because of you or some bug”—Helen spit the word bug into the wind shearing the rock with the mounting storm—“I’ll bring you down with me. No, that’s not true. I will make sure you go away for this instead of me.”

Holder pulled the stone and swung for the side of her head. The last thing Helen heard was her own scream bouncing off stone walls.