building. âOkay. Up on the mountain yesterday when I ran the Ponderosa trail, about four miles into it, near the summit ⦠â He paused as if reluctant to go on.
She and Scott used to run the trails together. Other than this morning, she couldnât recall how long it had been since sheâd had time for such outdoor exercise. Now, walking Abbey from the lodge down to Mountain Village constituted a big outing.
Scott started again. âI saw something blue in the trees and I stopped to get a better look.â
Nora froze, suddenly alert.
âIt was a guy. I mean, he had arms and legs. He was all decked out in some kind of costume and had a mask. He had a blue sash and held feathers and a hatchet.â
Like her kachina, the one broken and abandon in the gutter or the guy she didnât see in the forest. A hard pit formed in her stomach. âMaybe you caught a Native American in the middle of a ceremony.â
âYeah, thatâs what I thought. But I got the feeling he was expecting me.â
She ignored the hairs that stood on her neck.
A thin sheen of perspiration formed above his lip. âIt was like the whole forest stopped moving and held its breath.â
âWhat happened?â
âI started walking toward him and he raised his hatchet.â Scottâs eyes lost focus. âHe didnât say anything. But it felt like he was warning me.â
âWarning you?â
âHe was telling me not to make snow.â
Her belief lost its suspension and crashed to the ground. âWhat happened then?â
âI took another step toward him and he ran away. I chased him and he darted behind a tree and then ⦠he was gone.â
âGone?â
âYeah. Vanished. Like he was never there. I searched all over but never found a trace of him.â
âLet me understand this. Some guy dressed in a kachina outfit met you on the trail and you got the feeling he was giving you a message from Native American mythical gods to sabotage your means of livelihood.â
His face closed up.
âAnd you believe this?â She cringed at the incredulous tone of her own voice.
âSee? Thatâs why I didnât tell you.â
âWhy, because I have a firm grip on reality? Because I have some perspective?â
His eyebrows drew together. âBecause for you everything is black and white.â
âThe only reason you can give me for ruining our chance at success is a phantom visit from a mythological spirit. How can you expect me to believe that?â
His ears turned red, a sure sign he was losing his temper. âIf you insist on snow making, something bad is going to happen. â
âWhy are you suddenly so against snow making?â
He bristled. âI told you why.â He stared at her a moment. âAnd â¦
never mind. Forget it.â
Her teeth clenched so tight against a retort her jaws hurt. âWhat?â
âIf you donât believe the kachina, why should I bother you with anything else?â
âWhat else?â
âItâs best if you donât know.â
He was dismissing her from his life yet again. âOr what? Youâll have to kill me?â
He looked worried. âJust donât make snow, okay?â
Nora ached to give Scott everything he wanted and she would, as soon as they started making money. âScott. This is our only chance at survival.â She wasnât talking about the business.
âThen Iâm outta here.â Scott spun around and took off.
She agreed to take over Kachina Ski because he wanted it, and she fought for four years to make it work. She worked seven days a week, filed lawsuits, sat through court hearings. All for Scott, to somehow make him happy so he wouldnât leave her. Hell, sheâd even forgiven him for what he did two years ago. She couldnât let her marriage end in a side alley to a parking lot. âWait!â
When she burst