Tattered Legacy by Baker Shannon

Author:Baker, Shannon [Baker, Shannon]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery, eco-terrorist, Colorado, Nature, Fiction, outdoor, environmental, Arizona, Hopi culture, Native American
Publisher: Llewellyn Worldwide, LTD.
Published: 2015-03-01T08:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-TWO

ABIGAIL’S RANTING SOUNDED LIKE The Chipmunks on speed. When the shaking subsided and her bones felt solid, Nora stood up. She found her phone in her backpack and called Marlene.

Marlene’s voice boomed through the phone. Maybe her annoyance wasn’t directed at Nora, but she sounded like she wanted to punch something. “You’re at the visitors’ center? The brakes? Are you okay?”

“Just hurry. Abigail’s lecture is about to drill a hole in my brain.”

“Wait.” Marlene spoke to someone. After a minute she came back on the line. “Bill Hardy is here. He said he’d come along with me.”

“Bill Hardy?”

Marlene spoke to the phantom Bill. “I’ll lock up and meet you at the garage.” The bell above the door tinkled and Marlene spoke into the phone. “Bill owns the repair shop down the street from me.”

That must be the shop Darrell warned her against. “The Conoco? How do you know Bill?”

“He’s a friend.” Marlene sounded distracted, probably closing up the Read Rock.

“And you think he’s a good mechanic? Fair?”

“What are you talking about? I just told you he’s a friend. So yeah, he’s fair. Would you like to call the Better Business Bureau?” The bell dinged again and a door bang closed.

Nora closed her eyes against the glare. “No, sorry. I’m not thinking.”

“Of course not. We’re on the way.”

Marlene and Bill Hardy arrived in less than a half hour, long enough for Abigail to calm down. She had pulled out some moistened towelettes and done some sort of magical repair to her face and hair that made her look as though she’d just stepped out of the salon. The sweat drying from her shirt and a quick wipe of one of Abigail’s towlettes constituted enough freshening up for Nora.

Park rangers and a few curious tourists ventured out, hoping to get the story. Nora explained the brake failure and that help was on the way. Since no one was injured and the damage was limited to the Jeep’s mirrors, the authorities seemed willing to let the incident drop.

Abigail sat in the Jeep with the doors opened to catch the slight breeze. Abbey stretched out in the shade under the Jeep. Nora paced, going from a three-foot Mormon tea shrub, around two rocks the size of picnic tables, and back again, her boots crunching on a crust of gravel and grit.

Marlene and Bill arrived in a tow truck that had faded to a colorless gray. Tool boxes lined the heavy truck and an assortment of tools and equipment filled the bed. Marlene spilled out of the passenger side, her red-and-yellow-striped skirt billowing in the breeze. She strode over to Nora and Abigail and stopped to inspect them. “You seem okay.”

“Barely,” Abigail spewed in a breathless fury. “That Jeep is done for and it nearly took us out with it.”

Bill Hardy sauntered over. He might have been fifty or eighty, with deep lines etched in his face. He reached out to shake Nora’s hand, his grease-stained paw bearing black half moons under his fingernails. He wore dark blue Oshkosh overalls and a stretched and faded T-shirt.

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