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Resource Management, the firm selected to supply that water, produced compelling evidence. The president of SSRM, Darryl Johnson, provided proof they had acquired the necessary water rights, plus they could renew the water supply with new methods for capturing runoff from what little rain there was, as well as tapping into the snowcaps. This latter contingency plan was attacked as specious by two conservation groups, Washoe Water Rights and Friends of Sierra County, but SSRM still carried the day. Not only had its red-headed president given a presentation, so had Craig Locke, Director of Acquisitions. Also present at the board meeting were Oliver Hitchens and Elizabeth McCormick, although Oliver and Liz did not testify.
    Bitterly disappointed at what they felt were skewed facts, the two conservation groups stormed out of the meeting. They’d lost this fight but vowed to lose no more. Their joint press release to the media was ignored by the local papers as were most of the zoning proceedings.
    The only part of their statement that was printed: “If only there were more Jeep Reeds.” SSRM countered this with, “While we greatly respect Miss Reed’s business acumen and charitable activities, we think she is mistaken in her quest to control usage of water underneath Red Rock Valley.”
    Since the late 1950s, Jeep had been buying up or optioning water rights in the Valley. Often she paid an annual rent with an option to buy. Her fear was that the aquifer underneath Red Rock Valley would be diverted to Reno and thereby harm cattlemen and ranchers, of which she was one.
    Her statements over the years, always brief, focused on sustainable growth and preserving the precious resources of Washoe County.
    She had not been asked to comment on the Horseshoe Estates zoning approval.
    As it happened, there appeared to be little interest in Wade Properties’ victory because the news was dominated by the economic collapse of Nevada’s glamorous neighbor, California. Of all the stories in the news, this one certainly concerned Nevada residents the most. They knew they’d be dealing with the fallout.
    In fact, Wade Properties’ zoning approval went unmentioned on all the local TV broadcasts.

CHAPTER FOUR

    T he first weekend in December, a massive blizzard blanketed not just Nevada but much of the western half of the country. The eastern edge of this weather monster snowed on Denver as its western edge dumped on Reno. Airports shut down; roadways were deserted. Schools and churches, supermarkets and banks, all closed. Hospitals did what they could, but the best hope for anyone suffering a heart attack was prayer. Ambulances couldn’t negotiate roads any better than other vehicles. The storm was so severe that the plows just couldn’t keep up with the snowfall. The milelong drive up to Jeep’s house remained buried under two and a half feet of snow. Enrique left the back doors of the stable and sheds open so the horses and cattle could come and go as they pleased. At night he closed the horses in, for the temperatures dropped below zero out in the valley. The cattle, with heavier coats and more fat, could come and go at will.
    Basques are tough people. Salaberry is a Basque name. Enrique Salaberry displayed the clean-cut features and the taut small body characteristic of the tough Basque people. Basques played jai alai, a game for lightning reflexes, better than any other people in the world. The Basques—small-statured men who were light on their feet and had incredible hand-eye coordination—dazzled in those few places like south Florida where jai alai was played. Take your eyes off the goatskin ball hurtling at you at 180 mph and you could die. A few players had.
    Jeep assumed Enrique’s grandparents’ generation had fled Spain’s tyrannical dictator, Franco. Century after century, Basque hopes for independence were tabled or brutally crushed. The Spanish Civil War and its aftermath, much of it still buried in Spanish and