The Warrior's Way. Jenna Kernan
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know it.”
“We also have bright blue with flecks of iron pyrite up on Turquoise Ridge. That’s our main mining sight now. It’s pale blue to dark blue. We get a little green sometimes. But that’s rare.”
“You wear it on your belt,” she said.
He tilted the buckle. “Yeah. This is from that ridge,” he said, grazing a thumb over the brilliant blue outer inlay that surrounded the medicine wheel. Then he lifted his hand to brush the grey Stetson on his head. “My hatband, this paler blue with the fleck of black chert matrix, this is from Turquoise Ridge.”
“Chert?”
“Those are the blackish inclusion of the host rock that makes the cut stones more valuable, similar to spider web veining. Some collectors prefer the veining and inclusions to the solid blue stone.”
“You know your turquoise,” she said.
“Major biz here. Digging it, selling it at the rock-and-mineral shows. We go as far as Australia for shows. And we make jewelry.” He looked back over the rim to the blue river of turquoise that threaded through the dark stone. He pointed. “We derived our name from that vein of turquoise. It would be a shame to cut it all away. We do collect what erodes and you’d be surprised.”
He followed the direction of her gaze as she glanced from the mineral vein down to Piñon Forks and then returned her attention to the opposite rim a mile up from where they stood, pausing on the yellow rim of rock. This was the narrowest section of the canyon. Here the walls became pinched so the canyon was wide enough only for the river that touched the cliffs on both sides. He always thought that this spot must have been a heck of a rapid before the dam.
He tried to picture the surging torrent that once climbed far of the smooth walls and hoped he’d never see the water forced through that narrow gap.
Now her attention flicked to the wide flood plain, where his rez had placed their major settlement, Piñon Forks, then lifted to fix on the Skeleton Cliff Dam.
“That is really close,” she said, folding her arms before her. The gesture lifted the tops of her breasts so that he saw the mounds of firm tempting flesh over the scoop of her maroon blouse. His mouth went as dry as the cliff stone.
She turned to him and opened her mouth to speak, then caught the direction of his stare. Her hands dropped to her sides. Her amber eyes and sinking brows sent a clear message of displeasure.
“Sorry,” he said.
“I was about to say that the reservoir system in total is at a high-water point for the year. August rainfall set a new record and so a break in any of the dams would theoretically compromise the one below. If I was trying to destroy the system I would focus on Alchesay Canyon Dam because it’s the largest and holds back Goodwin Lake.”
“Your cousin told us that the FBI presence is focused on that dam as well. But what if they hit this one? Skeleton Cliff Dam is very close to our land. It wasn’t even land before they dammed this river.”
“Listen, with the force of that water and the speed, I have to be honest. If the dam goes, there would not be time to evacuate. And that break would carry enough water and debris to at least overflow Red Rock Dam below your lands. Likely Mesa Salado Dam, too.”
“That one is above the Yavapi Indian Reservation.”
“It would shut down the power grid for Phoenix.” Her hushed voice relayed the gravity of her thoughts.
“Your cousin told us he can’t discuss the surveillance methods on the dam system, just that they do have eyes on all the dams, have taken preventative action and established rapid response for various scenarios.”
“We do our job, Jack.”
“So what steps do we take?”
“Other than evacuate all low-land areas indefinitely, I can’t really offer suggestions.” She waved her hand toward the opposite rim. “Your best hope is to protect the dams.”
“They aren’t our dams. We can’t protect them.”
“We’re protecting them.”
Jack sent a look her way that he hoped relayed his lack of faith in the government protecting his people—history was on his side on that one. She rolled her eyes, returning her attention to the flood plan.
“Evacuate now,” she said.
“We have nowhere to go.” She made a face. Then she shook her head and her voice took on a sarcastic edge. “Well, you could blow up that entire ridge up there. That would stop anything. Theoretically.”
He’d never considered fighting an explosion with another one. But it could work.
Her eyes rounded. “Jack, it was a joke. Just a stupid offhanded remark. You can’t blow up that canyon wall.”
“I can’t. But you could.”
“That’s crazy. I’m not blowing up anything. I’m here to advise you,” said Sophia. She was sweating now, but it was a cold sweat and her skin had gone to gooseflesh.
One thing she knew with certainty—there was no way in hell she was ever, under any circumstances, doing anything that could affect the outcome of her fatal force investigation. Destroying federal land in a massive unauthorized explosion qualified.
“No,” she said. “No way and hell no.”
Jack’s smile told her that this wasn’t over and she felt like kicking herself for opening her big mouth. What if they did something incredibly stupid, like tried to blow that opposite wall and then they told her supervisors that it was her suggestion?
“You can’t be seriously considering this.” She tried to make her voice reflect her incredulity, but instead there was a definite tremor.
“I’ll consider anything that keeps my people from drowning.”
“We’re protecting the dam system, Jack. You and your warrior society don’t have to do anything. This is federal land. All of it. It falls under federal jurisdiction.”
He pointed toward Piñon Forks. “That’s Apache land and we will protect it as we see fit.”
“I hope you like federal prisons, because that’s where you’re heading if you blow one single rock of this canyon. This is a wetland system. It’s crucial to the power grid and it’s beautiful.”
“You have a better idea?”
“That wasn’t an idea! It was a joke.”
“How would you set the blasts, in your joke?” he asked.
“You must think I’m crazy to answer a question like that. Besides you don’t have access to the kind of explosives you’d need.”
“We have mining explosives, det cord, blasting caps and rolls of shock tubing.”
He used the abbreviation for detonation cord, used to trigger explosions of the main charge and his knowledge caused her to lift her brows in surprise. “Turquoise mining,” he said, answering her unspoken question. “The community operation is mostly underground now, following the veins as they run deeper. Plus we have lots of smaller claims. My friend Dylan Tehauno has a really good one up there on Turquoise Ridge. Lots of blasting material here.”
“If you are considering this, I have to report you.”
He smiled as his eyes challenged her. “Just a joke. Like yours.” He glanced toward the west. The town below was already cast in shadows, but up here it blazed orange as the sun made its final descent.
He sat on the canyon rim and glanced up at her. “Want to watch the sunset?”
She