Torrid Nights by Lindsay McKenna Page A

of the many pieces of equipment used to shape and mold the road. “I did a load-time study based on haul distance, equipment used and the rolling friction factors. I also checked the odometer records on each machine as well as the cubic yards of dirt hauled per day.”
    “And what did you find?”
    He gave a shrug of his broad shoulders. “Nothing.”
    Mackenna fought against a smile. How typical of him to think that she, as a woman, would be unable to comprehend equipment use, time and maintenance. If she read his guarded expression correctly, he was genuinely puzzled. “Would you like my evaluation of why we fell behind?” she inquired softly.
    He gave a brief nod. “Yes.”
    She curled up on the couch, tugging the blanket across her legs. “First, the site that the soil analysis team chose to be the main gravel pit turned out to be inadequate. It did not yield the projected amounts.”
    He tilted his head, resting his chin on his hands. “You’re the soils expert. Why did you okay that site?” he challenged.
    Mackenna was actually quite proud of her handling of the job. As she relaxed into her explanation her hands moved enthusiastically, adding emphasis to her words. “The site was chosen before I was sent out. I became aware of the problem almost immediately after signing on. I went directly to the pit and retested the stone.
    “If they’d bothered to test on a two-hundred-foot grid instead of a five-hundred-foot one, they’d have found that the gravel seams were insufficient,” she said, her voice tinged with disgust. “Moreover, the gravel being extracted was of only marginal hardness. When it was compacted, it deteriorated, preventing free drainage. And you know what happens when extensive fragmentation of the gravel and blocked drainage occur. You get a road that pumps.”
    He nodded, appearing more at ease. “So as the construction equipment ran over the roadbed the gravel didn’t support its weight, and the road compressed, preventing adequate drainage.”
    Mackenna pursed her lips. “And as soon as the weight was removed, the road rebounded. The pumping action had completely destroyed the road’s ability to handle loads of a ton or more. Which means it was damned near useless. We had to check every foot for soft spots, remove those we found, and replace it with good material. The extra time, material and equipment it took to bridge those soft pockets added time to our schedule and increased the overall cost. That’s the main reason we fell behind. And now, to compound matters, we’re running out of the main seam. Soon there will be nothing but porous rock left.”
    “And what have you done about it?”
    She gave him an irritated look. “You’ve only just bought out Benson Construction, so I’m sure you haven’t gone through all my letters and reports yet. I called the main office, wrote and even flew to Hong Kong to convince management of the need to find another gravel pit. That meant money and time. The old owners felt we could go with the porous rock. I argued against it because I knew the road wouldn’t stand up more than five years under wear and tear.”
    “Moralistic, aren’t you?” he chided mildly.
    She didn’t react to his gentle baiting. “It does come down to morals in one sense. Sure, I could build the rest of the road and it would look great…for a few years. But I’ve never believed in shoddy materials or workmanship. And I’m not about to put my name on something that isn’t going to last.”
    “So what have you been doing about it behind their backs?” He allowed a hint of a smile to shadow his mouth, his eyes glimmering with mirth.
    “I located another pit on my own.”
    “Where’d the money come from?”
    “I used savings from economies in the mechanical section to pay for the search. So no extra money went to finance it from the overall budget.”
    “Go on.”
    “I’ve got a solid seam of good-consistency lava rock up near Mount Bromo. It’s an