Free A Man of His Word by Sarah M. Anderson Page B

internet access to do it.
    She only had four weeks left.

Seven
    D an stood over the huge architectural drawing, comparing the plans on the blue sheet to the engineering report. Virgil Naylor, the chief of Naylor Engineering, hovered behind him, pointing out the details. Naylor was a slight, nervous man, no doubt made all the more nervous by Dan’s silence.
    Something about the engineering report didn’t add up, but he was having a hell of a time nailing Naylor down. He flipped to a footnote in the middle of the report. “But you say here that a run-of-river dam would generate almost as many megawatts.”
    â€œGiven optimum conditions.” Naylor’s hands fluttered as he waved the suggestion away.
    â€œYes, given. So why aren’t we doing a run-of-river dam?” Because that would make the most sense. A run-of-river dam wouldn’t flood that pretty little valley or any significant part of the Red Creek reservation.
    Naylor’s mouth puckered like he was sucking on a lemon.“Because run-of-river dams cannot store any electricity for slow times.”
    â€œAnd the cost benefit of that storage is?”
    Naylor seemed to get a shade pinker. The effect was not a pretty one. “Over the life of the dam, it averages out to a .019 cent gain per kilowatt.”
    Dan stared at the man in surprise. “With a peak operating capacity of 150 megawatts?”
    â€œYes.” Naylor snapped the word off.
    Dan did the math. “That’s a difference of less than three thousand dollars a year.”
    â€œMr. Armstrong, I’m sure you can understand the advantages of long-term hydroelectric storage…” Naylor launched into all the reasons why it was best, for the third time in the last two hours.
    Hell of a way to spend a Saturday, Dan thought in increasing frustration. He wondered if he could get Jim Evans, his engineer down in Amarillo, up here to look over this mess. Just then, his phone buzzed. Thank God, he thought as he unsnapped it from the holster. He didn’t recognize the number, but it was a South Dakota area code. “Hello?”
    â€œDan? This is Rosebud. Donnelly,” she added, like he knew tons of Rosebuds.
    She was calling him. All those cookies must have worked. Dan ordered his face not to smile as he excused himself and hurried outside, away from any prying ears. “Hey. What’s up?” Sheesh, what was he—thirteen again?
    â€œUm, well, I’m…well, I’m stuck.” She sounded thoroughly miserable about it. “My car died, and no one else can come get me. I need help.”
    A damsel in distress. And she was calling him. She was either really desperate or…well, no use getting ahead of himself. “I’m just finishing up a meeting. Where are you?”
    He thought the call had been dropped, but finally she said, “Do you know where the University of South Dakota is?”
    â€œNo. Why are you at a university?”
    â€œUm…research. Can you pick me up or not?”
    The damsel was really desperate, it seemed. “Give me fifteen minutes to finish this meeting.”
    â€œI’m in parking lot D, behind the library. You should get here in an hour.”
    â€œThen I’ll be seein’ you in an hour.” He ended the call and stared at the phone. Research? Did the university even have a law library?
    â€œMr. Armstrong?” Naylor hovered his way out onto the porch. “It’s getting late. Do you have any other questions?”
    â€œJust one.” It took a second to get his brain off Rosebud waiting for him and back onto engineering reports. “Who else have you told about the run-of-river option?”
    The man turned positively red, which was an ugly shade on his sallow skin. “I assure you that all the work at Naylor Engineering remains completely confidential at all times. We take client privileges—”
    Dan cut him off with a wave of his hand.