Page 43 of Dark Side of the River

He wanted to say they hadn’t gone that far yet, but he saved his breath, pretty sure they’d been headed in this direction for a lot longer than he’d been home. All that passion they’d put into trying to best each other all these years, it had manifested itself into this. He’d known for some time now, and he figured she had known as well—probably even before he knew.

“I honestly don’t know how my father would react. I do know that he wants the animosity between our families to stop.” He could feel her gaze on him.

“You know what’s at the heart of it, don’t you?” she asked. “Our parents were lovers.”

“You got all this from the local scuttlebutt, so I’m sure it’s true,” he said.

“It is. They had to sneak around because their families were already fighting. Has your father ever told you why he married your mother instead of mine?” He shook his head. “I suspect it had something to do with his father and hers threatening to send them packing. I think my mother would say that she would have given up everything for him. But who knows if she would have given up the ranch for love. I do know that she never got over him. As they say, there is nothing like a woman scorned.”

Or a man scorned, he said to himself, thinking of the elephant in the cab of the pickup—Stuart.

Ahead, he could see mostly pickups parked around the old barn. Lights glowed from inside. Lanterns? It looked like an old-timey church revival meeting. He was relieved that Pickett hadn’t put the word out and canceled the event. Then he worried that what they were seeing was exactly what it looked like, some church meeting. But most churches didn’t meet in an abandoned barn away from town at night or keep the meeting location secret from everyone but its members. He thought Pickett wouldn’t lie to him—except if he thought he was protecting him.

Cooper parked, noticing a large pickup parked some distance away, the license plate illuminated by a shaft of light from inside the barn. The plate number was the same one Tilly had gotten the sheriff to run for her. Jason Murdock, the private detective. What was he doing here? Looking for vandals?

Maybe tonight they would find out. They’d seen his rig parked at Howie Gunderson’s, who worked for CH4, and now he was here at the Dirty Business meeting? It wasn’t clear which side Murdock was on or what his real business was here in their valley. But if he was looking for the vandals who’d been sabotaging well drilling equipment, Cooper figured he might have come to the right place.

As they climbed out of the pickup, he could hear voices engaged in numerous conversations, some louder than others. But as he opened the barn door and stepped in behind Tilly, a lot of the voices fell silent.

He spotted local rancher Ralph Jones sitting on an old table at the front of the room. Ralph gave him a nod before rising. He held up his hands to quiet everyone. “Just to make sure you’re all in the right place, this is a meeting of the anti-methane-drilling group Dirty Business. If you’re for drilling, you need to turn around and leave. We’re not here to debate. We’re here to stop the drilling.”

The group quieted. Most had brought lawn chairs and now sat. Some stood against the wall. Pickett motioned for Cooper and Tilly to join him near the front. He’d apparently brought two extra chairs for them. Cooper and Tilly walked through the crowd to join him and sat in the chairs he offered.

“We have a speaker tonight who is going to explain a few things about the wells drying up in our valley,” Ralph said. “Phil Bergstrom is a geologist. Phil, the floor is all yours.”

Cooper listened with only half an ear as Phil explained about aquifers and the amount of water needed to extract the methane from the cracks in the coalbeds and the harm the abandoned wells were doing to the environment.

“Methane has more than eight times the warming power of carbon dioxide,” Bergstrom said. “At least twenty-five percent of today’s global warming is driven by methane from what we’re doing to our planet.”

Bergstrom was preaching to the choir. Cooper had researched the process when the geologists and gas companies had first started drilling in the state. He figured everyone in the barn already knew this. Like him, they could have looked it up online.

He found himself glancing around the crowd of mostly ranchers and a few of their wives. There were even a few businessmen from town. He couldn’t help being surprised at how many people were in attendance. He recognized most everyone, except for a man standing up at the far back. Murdock? If so, he was a large man with a gray crew cut. He wore canvas pants and a black windbreaker that matched his Stetson.

When Phil finished, several people spoke about the deals the gas people were offering. Others talked about how they hadn’t been warned that they might not have water on their ranch after the company drilled. Another talked about how the fishing in nearby Tongue River Reservoir had declined since the gas companies had begun drilling in their area. They blamed all the salty water that had been dumped into the river.

Finally, Ralph passed around some more information about who they could call with their complaints. A few rabble-rousers stood up and demanded to know why they weren’t running the whole bunch of gas company men out of Powder River County.

The meeting came to a close, but people didn’t seem to want to leave. He and Tilly went outside, where a few had gathered to talk and smoke. When Ralph came out, Cooper pulled him aside.

“We’re trying to find out who shot Oakley Stafford,” he said. “Can you tell me if she’s been coming to these meetings?”

“Something we don’t do is tell anyone who comes or doesn’t come to the meetings,” Ralph said. “I’d appreciate it if the two of you would do the same after attending tonight.”

“Please,” Tilly said.

“Why don’t you ask your sister? I heard she’s going to pull through,” the rancher said. “Don’t you have a well on the Stafford Ranch? I understand there might be more drilled.”

“That’s my mother’s doing, not mine,” she said.

Ralph shook his head and turned to Cooper. “There’s talk of wells on your ranch as well.”

“It would have to be over my father’s dead body,” he said, worried that might be Treyton’s plan.

The rancher looked at Tilly. “I’m sorry, but some people have been ostracized after coming to a meeting. We only agreed to meet tonight after one of our members vouched for Cooper. Please don’t make me regret it. Talk to your sister,” he said to Tilly.

Cooper could feel people watching them with suspicion. “This might have been a mistake,” he said under his breath as they walked to his pickup and climbed in. He searched for the man at the back whom he hadn’t recognized. The man was nowhere in sight.

As Cooper pulled out to head back to the abandoned station for Tilly’s pickup, he saw that Jason Murdock’s rig was gone. Apparently, the PI had already left.

---