Read Online Water Rites by Mary Rosenblum - Free Book Online

the dust.
    The Association man cleared his throat. “Water piracy is a big-time felony. You draw a lot of federal years.” He looked over their heads, up into the hard blue sky. “You can get the death penalty, depending on how much you hurt folk down-flow. I know you folks are upset. It’s tough, watching someone you know go under. I suppose, since I didn’t actually see anyone hole that pipe, I could just patch it, write it up as a materials failure.”
    Slick. Dan stretched his aching knee gently. The man was putting himself on their side, just one of the thirsty, fighting the drought like everyone else. Underneath his smile, he was letting them know they couldn’t win. He’d do a smooth card trick, Dan thought sourly.
    He watched the eyes shift some more, feet scuff up more dust. They were listening to the ugly echoes of felony and death sentence, deciding they could meet the rate hike somehow, and that Matt was a reckless fool, not worth risking the family for. Nobody took risks for anyone else anymore. You had enough risks of your own. Dan leaned against the hot metal, waiting to see who’d sneak away first.
    “We could maybe understand your rate hike.” Montoya stepped out of the crowd, thumbs tucked into his belt. “We know it costs a lot to feed all those Corps people while they keep the Pipe flowing. And we gotta pay Canada for the water that feeds the Rocky Mountain Trench. We know all that. It’s this retroactive bit that’s hard to swallow.” His smile looked weathered, as old as the cliffs. “We’ve given you whatever you asked for, worked ourselves ’till we drop to pay off your water. Matt ’n Sara ain’t no lazy bums. They work as hard as any of us, and they could make the hike. They can’t make the hike you laid on the last six months of water. None of us can.” He tilted his head, his eyes on the Association man. “Seems kind of . . . well . . . coincidental, you offerin’ to buy ’em out like that. You in the land business now?”
    “That was charity.” The Association man’s voice had lost a bit of its smooth tone.
    “Was it?” Montoya frowned, appearing to consider. “Seems like you could’a waived the retroactive hike for charity. Matt ’n Sara work as hard as any of us. If they go down, I figure we’re all gonna go down. Where are we gonna go? Since I don’t think we have any good options, I guess we’d better figure something out.”
    Dan heard the responsive murmur, even though Montoya’s tone had been quiet and reasonable. The bodies shifted again, edging closer now. They were a crowd again, not just a bunch of tired, worried men and women ready to slink away and take what they could get.
    The Association man felt it, too, and threw Sam a quick, hard glance, before his face smoothed out. “Hell, I told you I’m not here to start a fight.” He gave them a rueful smile, like he was sorry they couldn’t be friends. “If you don’t pay your fees, or if you cut into the pipes, the Association’s gonna come down on you hard and legal. Backed up by the Corps.”
    “Fine,” someone hollered from the back of the crowd. “We’d rather deal with the Corps. They don’t want our land.”
    “Have it your way.” The man shrugged, turned his back on them.
    His two silent watch dogs followed him, their backs stiff. Someone cheered as the van lurched down the slope. That started them all cheering again, milling around, slapping backs and hugging, like they’d really backed the Association down.
    Montoya was in the center of it all, but as if he felt Dan’s attention, he looked up and their eyes met. His were bleak in spite of his smile. He knew what was coming. Dan turned away and headed for the pickup, leaning hard on his stick. As he rounded the front of the flatbed, he stopped. Jesse stood on the far side, talking to a thickset, bearded man with the pale skin and tattooed left arm of a convoy trucker.
    “. . . she picked up a ride east, figures she’ll get