Durango (18 page)

A project originally designed to provide irrigation water for southwestern Colorado in the 1960s had, by the 1990s, produced a feasibility study that showed irrigated agriculture in the area would produce only about thirty-six cents in benefits for every dollar of construction and operation costs to the government. Even the most powerful Colorado senators and congresspersons could not persuade their colleagues to appropriate funds based on such economics.

Thus, what had started out as a water project for farmers and ranchers in 1968 had now become a project primarily for Indian tribes to develop their resources. Agricultural interests, originally in the forefront of boosting the project, and tourism and recreational interests who had earlier seen expansionist benefits from the water storage project, were now much less enthusiastic. Therefore, public support for the Animas–La Plata was greatly diminished, and anyway, federal dollars were now harder to come by.

All this drawn-out economic evolution caused further feasibility studies to be carried out, and in the early 1990s the Animas–La Plata, originally designed to store 192,000 acre feet of water, was now reduced to a storage capacity of 120,000 acre feet, of which some 57,100 acre feet of water would be diverted from the river system and stored annually for the municipal and industrial uses of the Southern Utes and the Ute Mountain Utes to the west.

At the same time, demand for municipal and industrial water was increasing in southwestern Colorado as elsewhere and more on the energy-rich Southern Ute reservation than even in the city of Durango. Of the 57,100 acre feet for the tribes, the Southern Utes were to receive 26,500 acre feet of water for their towns and resource development and a small amount, 3,400 acre feet annually, for a modest increase in agricultural irrigation.

The settlement also provided $60.5 million to be divided between the two tribes for commercial and community development. The Southern Utes used a portion of this amount to finance their startup development company, Red Willow.

All this was well and good, at least on paper, except for one rather crucial element: there still was no Animas–La Plata project, and the Southern Utes had been waiting a good number of years since waiving their historic water rights in anticipation of water from the project. Leonard Cloud and Sam Maynard had gone to Washington, yet again, to testify before congressional committees. The tribal chairman was succinct: “The Southern Ute Tribe will not allow the United States government to again break a treaty obligation to the Indian people.” And to put a finer point on it: “We are not willing to repeat the mistakes of the past with regard to
our
water.”

The presence of the possessive pronoun in the last phrase was not accidental, nor was its significance lost on members of Congress, even including those who thought Indians still wore headdresses and buckskin and rode horses.

Leonard Cloud was exasperated. What do we do, Dan? I've got tribal members who think the Great White Father in Washington—he articulated this phrase with disdain—has taken us to the cleaners yet again. We sign this agreement not to perfect our water rights in the courts in exchange for water from a project that may not be built. It looks like we've lost again. And here we've got all this coal and oil and gas and no water to develop it. It looks to us like the political “leaders” in Denver and Washington have suddenly lost interest in this water project now that it's primarily for us Indians.

Leonard, that's what we're here to try to figure out, Sheridan said. We need to think creatively, maybe even come up with a new political coalition.

He studied the proposed project maps on Cloud's table, tracing the pipeline routes that would connect the Ridges Basin Dam south of Durango with the reservation on whose northern boundary it was to be located.

I spent last weekend up in the high country letting the cougars see if I had gotten too old to eat, and I had a chance to think this over, Sheridan said. I don't know whether Sammy would agree or not, but it seems to me we have to do at least two things. We have to make our support coalition bigger. And we have to get the local folks back in the game. For example, let's propose to the Bureau of Reclamation that all these agreements be amended to bring in the Navajos down in New Mexico and some of the local water districts. Unless I'm badly mistaken, there's enough unallocated water, even with the smaller storage dam, for some small allocations, and what you've done is expand the base of people who've got an interest in seeing the project go forward.

Makes sense, Sam Maynard said. We thought about doing that a while back but couldn't get much interest among the water powers. Let's see how much we've got to divide up. He thumbed through a very thick briefing book and a stack of files in his overstuffed brief case. Finally he came up with a file of water storage figures.

Okay, as far as I can tell just eyeballing this thing right now, it looks like we might have about 25,000 acre feet a year to spread around without shortchanging either Ute tribe.

Leonard Cloud said, So, we have our brothers the Navajo, the San Juan Water Commission in New Mexico, and the Animas–La Plata Conservancy District itself to bring into our coalition.

Sheridan said, Let's divide up the 25,000 acre feet this way, just in round numbers. From what I have heard, the Navajo Nation would get on board, together with the New Mexico congressional delegation, if we ran a pipeline from here, he indicated Farmington, down to here, indicating Shiprock, New Mexico, and gave them around 5,000 acre feet a year. Sam, let me know if I'm wrong, but the San Juan Water Commission could come back in for about 10,000 acre feet. Then the state of Colorado could use 5,000 or so acre feet for its parks and recreational use. And the Animas–La Plata Conservancy District could get about half that, which they've been trying to get. And then some spare change for that little water conservancy district down in New Mexico.

Leonard Cloud said, Sam, can we do that without sacrificing our guaranteed rights?

I hadn't thought about it before, but the answer is yes, Leonard, Sam said. I like Dan's theory. Spread the water around and develop a new constituency coalition to get financing for the project. This way, instead of going from a Durango white-guy project to a Ute project, we convert this to a white-guy-and-Ute project. It's a compromise that costs us little or nothing.

Leonard said, Why are you smiling?

Because I should have been smart enough to think of it, Sam said, and I didn't.

Leonard Cloud said, Maybe we ought to pay Mr. Daniel Sheridan the legal fees this month.

35.

The men ordered in some coffee and spent another couple of hours going over the water numbers and discussing political strategy. By late afternoon they had agreement that it was worth a try as a new approach to put the Animas–La Plata project back in play, break the stalemate, and relieve heightening tensions in the community. Leonard Cloud and his tribal council would hold talks with the Navajo Nation in New Mexico to bring them on board politically.

As he left Ignacio, Sheridan found himself a dusty block or so from Two Hawks' small house. He left the main street and pulled up in front of the old man's place. He waited for two or three minutes and then the thin arm appeared in the door and waved him in.

Two Hawks greeted him and gestured to a sagging chair. How are things at the top of the Florida these days? he asked.

Sheridan said, Me and the cows are doing fine up there. After a moment he continued, I went up to that place, that lake I told you about, in the high country a couple of days ago. Ran onto a big old cougar in a tree.

The old man's eyes wrinkled. Did he eat you?

No, but he sure could have if he decided to.

He was wondering why you would trespass on his territory, Two Hawks said.

I reckon that's so, Sheridan said. I did my best to be polite and apologize for the intrusion.

From the looks of it, it must have worked, the old man said, his eyes still smiling.

What does a creature like that think when he sees one of us? Sheridan asked as he gestured at the two of them.

No way to know, Two Hawks said. He's probably wishing you'll go away and not cause him any trouble. Shoot him or something. They've roamed these parts longer even than my own people. We've chased them up into the high country pretty much. They still survive in spite of all our efforts to get rid of them.

He still sees the natural places as his territory, doesn't he? Sheridan said.

Two Hawks said, He does. It's who he is. It's in his nature. He's free up there, just like he used to be free everywhere. He gestured in a big circle over his head.

Sheridan said, He'd pretty much cleaned up a young deer up there. But he was still hanging around. Wasn't much left to eat.

He still thought you were there to take it, Two Hawks said. We're the same way. Only it's not about food anymore. It's about our cars and TV boxes and little treasures like that. Somebody tries to take them, we kill them. After a minute or two of quiet, the old man asked, Did you leave?

I left that spot, slowly but quickly, if you know what I mean, Sheridan smiled.

That's the way to do it, Two Hawks said. You show respect by moving away. But you should never show fear. Anyway, he knows you're afraid. He can smell it.

Sheridan chuckled. I'm sure he could. My mind wasn't afraid, but the rest of me was. But I didn't leave that lake site. It's kind of gotten to be my church, I guess you'd say. It's where I go to think and…you might even say to pray, though it's not like regular church service prayer.

Two Hawks nodded. I know that kind of prayer, he said. It's my kind also. It's my peoples' kind of prayer. That is, until the missionaries gave us their kind of religion.

Well, I'd like to know, was I wrong to stay up there, in the cat's place? Sheridan asked. I ate my supper and curled up by the fire for the night. He could have jumped me in the night pretty easily.

Two Hawks' eyes wrinkled again. He watched you. He watched you all night. You weren't afraid anymore and he could tell that. I suppose he was thinking if you didn't want to harm him, why should he harm you? Besides—the holy man smiled—he already had his supper.

Sheridan said, It was very strange to share that place with the lion. It was his place. It still is his place. But that place has been a comfort to me in some bad times. And a pleasure in better times.

So long as you don't spread poison around or shoot the place up, he'll share it with you. Just treat the water and the trees and the grass with respect. I know you well enough to know you will clean the place up when you leave and restore it to health. That's all that cat creature cares about. He's the king there. It's his kingdom. You must respect it. If you do, he will respect you.

The two men sat in silence for a while. Then Two Hawks said, You're trying to help us with the water, I guess.

Sheridan had no notion of how the old man could have known that. I just gave Mr. Cloud and his people some ideas, he replied. That's what I was doing up in the high country. Thinking about this. There's some water to negotiate with and I thought it might be spread around a little for everyone's benefit.

Two Hawks nodded. I suppose that makes sense. Benefit as many as possible. But when these engineers start moving their big machines around, just remember to respect the water. It is sacred, especially in these parts. We will all be judged, including my people, on whether we treat this water, this gift, with respect. Maybe even a kind of reverence. Without this water there is no life.

Over his many years with Two Hawks, Sheridan anticipated the moment and stayed silent. The old man bowed his head, then looked up. He raised both hands and began a slow, quiet chant. It was mostly in the native language. But from time to time Sheridan could make out English words…
pray,
and
the land,
and
earth
and sky,
and
all the creatures.
He always seemed to want to hold his breath when this happened, not to break the spell.

After a moment's silence, Two Hawks moved his raised palms in Sheridan's direction. He asked for a blessing on his friend. He thanked the Spirit for sending this man to help his people. He said that Sheridan was worthy of a blessing, that he respected the natural world and all the creatures in it. He asked the Spirit to go with his friend Sheridan and always be with him.

The prayer ended and Sheridan breathed out. They then got up, and Sheridan went to the open door. Two Hawks said, Take care of yourself. And give that cougar lots of room.

36.

My turn to cook, Sheridan said to Caroline on the phone. Jameson at six and elk sometime after that. See you Friday. And, by the way, bring your new painting to show me. I haven't seen any in a while.

A few minutes after six that Friday, she drove off Florida Road through the Sheridan ranch gate. Toby bounded up, happy to see his good friend. She had a brown-paper bundle under her arm.

She put the bundle on the dining room table, knowing from history that they would eat in the kitchen, and he embraced her. It lasted a long time. Uncharacteristically he said, I guess I've missed you.

She laughed. You guess? Either you did or you didn't. Oh, well. Always the cowboy. Never comfortable with affection.

I'm comfortable with affection, he said, patting her backside. I'm just not always comfortable talking about it.

You manage your demonstrations of what you call affection, she said, in a way that gives you a chance to see if I've gained weight.

Now Sheridan laughed. Not my purpose. I hope to have a chance to make a more thorough inspection later. But in the meantime, you haven't. Just so you understand, I pat Red on the rump too, and it's not to see whether he's gained weight.

You cowboys, she laughed. All alike. About as romantic as a slipped disk.