Read Online Season of Storm by Sellers Alexandra - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sellers Alexandra
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look at him.
"What did you hope to gain?" she demanded fiercely, her eyes on the map, on the desk, on the floor—anywhere but on him, because she was afraid of the force of her own fury. Her hands were tense, her fingers extended like upturned raven's claws. "You got your inquiry, you got your time, what else did you want? Frighten him? You nearly killed him! For all we know, you did kill him!"
When she looked at him he was watching her, his hooded eyes grave. "Why?" she demanded. "Why did you do that to my father?"
Johnny Winterhawk breathed once and stood up, moving around the other side of the desk away from her. The sun slanted through greenery and glowed on the warm wood of the floor, and on his black-clad thighs and chest and his sleek black hair as he crossed the room. He stopped and stared out the window, his hands in his pockets.
He said, "We knew that your father was going to move an outfit into the northern part of Cat Bite Valley, up by Salmontail Lake, as quietly as possible, and begin logging operations as early as next week. We were hoping to convince him last night that he should wait until the inquiry had issued its report before he did any logging in the area."
Shulamith stared across the room at him. "What on earth do you mean?" she asked, amazed. "Surely you got a temporary injunction against St. John's to prevent any lumbering in the area till the inquiry delivered its verdict?" If they hadn't done that, she didn't think much of their organization.
Johnny Winterhawk shook his head. "The Supreme Court of British Columbia refused to grant us an injunction," he said. "The appeals court heard the appeal this week, but it's reserved its decision. If the appeals court upholds the earlier decision then the Chopa are in limbo and legally your father can do anything he damn pleases."
In some perhaps naive way, Smith had faith in the justice system. She was not blind to it faults and errors, but she believed in the country's urge to justice. What she was hearing from Johnny Winterhawk now shook her.
"The Supreme Court refused to grant a temporary injunction even though the government had appointed a commission of inquiry?" she repeated. Some basic sense of security began to crumble; she felt as though the world had shifted a little under her feet. "But that's impossible!"
"Is it?" Johnny Winterhawk asked quietly. Hands in his pockets, he was gazing out over the sea. Below them on the cliffside she could just catch a glimpse of the cedar wall of the kitchen; at a different angle, below through the trees, she could see a small cove with a sand beach.
"But..." she stammered, trying to remember the arguments of environmentalists and native groups that she had heard in the past. "But if logging operations are even begun in the area, the salmon spawning grounds will be destroyed," she managed. "Won't they?"
"Of course."
"So then, whatever the commission recommended after that would be pointless. The decision will have been made...by my father, really." It was impossible.
Johnny Winterhawk said nothing. And suddenly in the silence she believed it.
"Doesn't it make you angry?" she asked, a frown settling on her brow as an unfamiliar outrage flickered into life in her.
He laughed, throwing his head back and showing his teeth. His hair fell back and then forward over his forehead as he turned from the window to look at her. His dark gaze was frank and steady.
"Yes, I'm angry," he said. "But it's futile to get angry over the predictable or the inevitable, and what happened in the courts was both."
"Was it?" Smith wondered suddenly if she'd been living in a cloister all her life. Between learning the ropes at St. John Forest Products and doing her father's business entertaining she had had little time for getting involved in social issues. She had somehow assumed that other people were looking after social progress, slowly, perhaps, but surely. And yet this man thought that rank injustice was inevitable
"What did you hope to gain?" she demanded fiercely, her eyes on the map, on the desk, on the floor—anywhere but on him, because she was afraid of the force of her own fury. Her hands were tense, her fingers extended like upturned raven's claws. "You got your inquiry, you got your time, what else did you want? Frighten him? You nearly killed him! For all we know, you did kill him!"
When she looked at him he was watching her, his hooded eyes grave. "Why?" she demanded. "Why did you do that to my father?"
Johnny Winterhawk breathed once and stood up, moving around the other side of the desk away from her. The sun slanted through greenery and glowed on the warm wood of the floor, and on his black-clad thighs and chest and his sleek black hair as he crossed the room. He stopped and stared out the window, his hands in his pockets.
He said, "We knew that your father was going to move an outfit into the northern part of Cat Bite Valley, up by Salmontail Lake, as quietly as possible, and begin logging operations as early as next week. We were hoping to convince him last night that he should wait until the inquiry had issued its report before he did any logging in the area."
Shulamith stared across the room at him. "What on earth do you mean?" she asked, amazed. "Surely you got a temporary injunction against St. John's to prevent any lumbering in the area till the inquiry delivered its verdict?" If they hadn't done that, she didn't think much of their organization.
Johnny Winterhawk shook his head. "The Supreme Court of British Columbia refused to grant us an injunction," he said. "The appeals court heard the appeal this week, but it's reserved its decision. If the appeals court upholds the earlier decision then the Chopa are in limbo and legally your father can do anything he damn pleases."
In some perhaps naive way, Smith had faith in the justice system. She was not blind to it faults and errors, but she believed in the country's urge to justice. What she was hearing from Johnny Winterhawk now shook her.
"The Supreme Court refused to grant a temporary injunction even though the government had appointed a commission of inquiry?" she repeated. Some basic sense of security began to crumble; she felt as though the world had shifted a little under her feet. "But that's impossible!"
"Is it?" Johnny Winterhawk asked quietly. Hands in his pockets, he was gazing out over the sea. Below them on the cliffside she could just catch a glimpse of the cedar wall of the kitchen; at a different angle, below through the trees, she could see a small cove with a sand beach.
"But..." she stammered, trying to remember the arguments of environmentalists and native groups that she had heard in the past. "But if logging operations are even begun in the area, the salmon spawning grounds will be destroyed," she managed. "Won't they?"
"Of course."
"So then, whatever the commission recommended after that would be pointless. The decision will have been made...by my father, really." It was impossible.
Johnny Winterhawk said nothing. And suddenly in the silence she believed it.
"Doesn't it make you angry?" she asked, a frown settling on her brow as an unfamiliar outrage flickered into life in her.
He laughed, throwing his head back and showing his teeth. His hair fell back and then forward over his forehead as he turned from the window to look at her. His dark gaze was frank and steady.
"Yes, I'm angry," he said. "But it's futile to get angry over the predictable or the inevitable, and what happened in the courts was both."
"Was it?" Smith wondered suddenly if she'd been living in a cloister all her life. Between learning the ropes at St. John Forest Products and doing her father's business entertaining she had had little time for getting involved in social issues. She had somehow assumed that other people were looking after social progress, slowly, perhaps, but surely. And yet this man thought that rank injustice was inevitable
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