“Shane who?” Stacy asked.
The older man eyed her warily. “Just Shane.”
“We’re here to help any way we can,” George said, before Stacy could respond.
Shane was still studying Connor. “We’re always happy to welcome new volunteers.” He looked away and, raising his voice, said, “Let’s get started, folks. We have a lot to talk about.” He assumed a wide-legged stance at the front of the pavilion, theposture of a coach before the big game. “First of all, thanks for coming all the way out here on a cold night,” he said. “We felt like we needed to get a little farther away from town because we heard rumors the sheriff’s department planned to disrupt our meetings as illegal gatherings. They don’t have a legal leg to stand on, but it’s just another way to hassle us.”
Angry murmurs rose from the crowd.
“We’re all here tonight because we care about the same things,” Shane continued. “SkyCrest Resort is trying to take land from the public, close it off to free access to ordinary people like us and charge for the privilege of recreating there, further lining their own pockets.”
Boos rose up from several in the crowd.
Shane nodded. “They’ve done this sort of thing before. Back in 1968, my grandfather fell on hard times, and the resort developers took advantage of him to buy a big chunk of our family ranch for a criminally low price. They’re trying the same kind of swindle with Blaine Mountain.”
More boos. Shane waited for the clamor to subside. “I won’t keep you standing around in the cold,” he said. “The main purpose of tonight’s gathering is to plan our next protest. As you know, in a little over a week, we’ll celebrate Martin Luther King weekend. It’s one of the busiest weekends of the year at SkyCrest, so there will be lots of tourists in the ski village and on the slopes. It’s our opportunity to make a big impact.”
Stacy compressed her lips together. Did Shane intend for the wordimpactto sound so sinister, or did she only think that because she suspected the group had four boxes of explosives at their disposal?
“Tourists are all for the expansion,” someone toward the back of the pavilion said. “If they’re fighting the holiday crowds, they’ll be even more in favor of new terrain.”
“Not if we can help them see how unsafe the idea is,” Shane said.
Stacy tensed.
“How do we do that?” Jace asked.
“Our new friend here has just shared that ski patrol at SkyCrest is understaffed.” Shane nodded at Connor, who looked decidedly uncomfortable. “More crowds on a holiday weekend will mean more accidents. Maybe too many for patrol to handle comfortably.”
“We have extra staff on holidays,” Connor said. “We’ll handle everything.”
“Not if there are more accidents than usual,” Shane said.
“What are you proposing?” George spoke up. “Are we going to booby-trap the runs or something?”
A murmur rose from the crowd. Shane held up his hands. “I’m not suggesting anything illegal,” he said. “I don’t want to see anyone unnecessarily hurt.”
The wordunnecessarilyhad Stacy on high alert.
The crowd calmed. Shane studied them. He had intense blue eyes, and a charisma Stacy could feel. “What if everyone here tonight also decided to ski that weekend?” he asked after a long pause. “And not just those of you here. I’ve put the word out all over the state, inviting others to join us here at the ranch that weekend, to help protest this taking of public land away from the public.”
A cheer rose from some in the crowd. Shane smiled.
“So the plan is just to have a lot of people around, criticizing the resort?” someone in the crowd asked.
“I’m suggesting people deliberately seek out the most crowded runs,” Shane said. “Maybe we ski a little slower than usual or stop more often or lose our balance getting off the chairlift.”
“We impede traffic, you mean?” someone asked.
“Exactly. And if anyone says anything or anyone collides with us, we complain loudly about the resort not having enough staff. They can’t handle the crowds. They can’t take care of the terrain they already have. Adding more is irresponsible. They’re not interested in their guests. They’re merely greedy.”
“You know, it could work,” someone behind Stacy said.
“Might be fun,” added someone else.
“Sounds dangerous,” said a third person.
“It does sound dangerous,” Stacy muttered. George gently squeezed her arm, and she shot him an annoyed look.
