Durango by Gary Hart

angry too. We think we’re not being heard. All these big guys Bill’s talking about are being heard. They pay these high-priced lobbyists back in Washington to bang on the doors all the time. And they make big contributions to campaigns. Why can’t the rest of us go to a town meeting and speak up? I think this whole thing is nothing but a boondoggle for a bunch of fat cats. I like this place the way it is.
    Dan Sheridan walked in as Mr. Murphy said, You see, that’s what’s wrong. A bunch of greenies show up here and start telling us how to run this town and what we can and can’t do. That’s what I object to. I care as much about this place as anybody. But I’ve got a business to run. My hardware store’s not going to make it unless we get some more customers. I can’t sell hardware to a bunch of river rafters and hippies.
    I’m not a hippie, Tom, the professor said.
    I didn’t say you were, Mr. Murphy said. But a bunch of those people you’re taking to the senator’s town meeting will be. I guarantee it. And last time I checked they hadn’t taken a bath in a while either.
    Easy, Sheridan said as he placed his hot coffee on the table.
    We’re talking about the project, Bill Van Ness said.
    So I gather, Sheridan said. What else is there these days?
    We’d talk about sports, Sam said, except the Rockies are having a bad season and the Broncos don’t look to do much better this fall. Anyway, we shouldn’t pollute your coffee with a touchy subject you’ve got something to do with.
    Why not? Sheridan said. Everybody else does. Can’t walk down Main without getting stopped by one group or another wanting to shut the project down or start it up.
    Mr. Murphy glowered. Well, if the professor here and his greenies keep trying to shut this community down it’s going to get pretty nasty.
    The professor, normally very placid, pushed his chair back. That’s not true and you know it. And calling us a bunch of greenies is kind of demeaning, frankly. Not everyone has to agree with you on everything.
    Sheridan held up his hand. Okay, now we’re not going to let this thing destroy any friendships. At least not if I have anything to do with it. He gestured for the professor to sit down. Instead Smithson headed for the door.
    Sam sighed. I don’t like the way this thing is going, he said. Everybody can’t get his way here. Either the dam will get built or it won’t. Either way somebody’s going to be disappointed. What I’m afraid of is that the disappointment will turn to anger instead of being forgotten. That’s not a good thing.
    Couldn’t agree more, Sheridan said.
    As they all left, Sheridan stopped Sam Maynard. I think it’s time you and I talked to Leonard to see if the Utes might help us solve this.
    16.
    Twelve years later, the Animas–La Plata continued to occupy a kind of civil war status, and Patrick Carroll went to see Duane Smithson, his former history professor. He had a purpose.
    Professor, he said as he settled into the worn chair in his mentor’s small office, Mr. Sheridan has to be the key to this whole thing. And you’re the one to talk to him about it. Why can’t you just talk to him about civic duty like you do in your classes?
    He doesn’t need any lectures on civic duty, Patrick, the professor said.
    All this stuff that happened years ago, Patrick said. It’s old. Everyone’s forgotten. Now’s the time for him to pick up where he left off. When he was driven out.
    He wasn’t “driven out,” Smithson said sharply. He walked away. There’s a big difference.
    Okay, walked away, the young man said. Anyway, he still has a lot of respect in this town.
    That he does, the professor said. But there are still those who think he brought it on himself. Or that he was trying to protect someone—
    I know, “someone,” Patrick said.
    â€”or that he