Sagebrush Sedition. Warren J. Stucki

up the other side. Fighting dust, hairpin curves and jolting over boulders, washboard, roots and potholes, they lurched up the fifteen percent grade, eventually leveling out on the far wall.

      From here, the view was unparalleled. Appearing mostly steel-wool gray in color with splashes of creamy brown sandstone, the Kaiparowits Plateau stretched out far below them, dotted with a smattering of dwarf pinions and junipers. The plateau was upturned at the edges, like the rim of a saucer, with the western border being supported by the strange saw-toothed Cockscomb formation. The eastern border was shouldered up by the massive Straight Cliffs and to the far south Roper could see the blue-green gashes in the tabletop, marking the plateau’s deepening network of drainage canyons. Wahweap Creek, Warm Creek, Last Chance Creek, Reese’s Canyon, Navajo Canyon, Rodgers Canyon, Monday Canyon, Sunday Canyon all emptied south into Lake Powell. Glancing through the window to the north, he could make out the long slender snaking arm of Headquarters Valley. Even though the trip here had been a bit like a roller coaster ride, Roper had to admit the view made the trip worth it.

      The agenda for the day, as the ever genial Deputy Monument Manager Sparks had earlier briefed, was to drive to the top the Kaiparowits Plateau and see what was happening with the various coal leases. In principal at least, Andalex and PacifiCorp had agreed to sell their leases back to the U.S. government, removing all their mining equipment, but not so with Highland Mining & Mineral. Andalex and PacifiCorp leases were located on the southern rim of the plateau, close to the Burning Hills, whereas Highland’s lease was right here on top, almost the geographic center of the huge plateau, in the Paradise Canyon area.

      Apparently, Angus Macdonald, sole owner of Highland, had agreed to absolutely nothing and had in fact been recalcitrant and difficult to find. There had been no negotiations with him and none had been scheduled. Rumor had it he had been camping out somewhere on the Kaiparowits, probably near his lease, but no one from the BLM had been able to talk to him since that pivotal day, September eighteenth, the day the monument was created. Scuttlebutt had it however, that he was furious and did not want to talk or negotiate.

      Sparky had instructed Sean and Roper to scout out the Plateau, particularly the Paradise Canyon area to make sure there had been no recent digging, and if they could find Macdonald, try to arrange a day for him to meet with Manager Brisco. After that, if there still was time, they were to inspect any ranching operations in the area. Specifically, check on the number of cows presently grazing and if the number was appropriate for the present poor range condition. With the drought, Sparky had needlessly reminded them, the land would not support nearly as many cows. Sean had snorted at this and Roper silently suspected one was probably too many for him.

      Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Roper glanced over at Sean. His freckled jaw was set and his green eyes focused straight ahead. To Roper, the complete lack of conversation was beginning to feel more than just a little strained.

      “You ever hike up there to Grosvenor’s Arch?” he finally asked.

      “Of course,” Sean replied curtly.

      “Me too,” Roper volunteered then waited, but there was no response from Sean. “Kinda makes you realize the monument is probably necessary—” More silence. “—to preserve God’s handiwork,” Roper’s voice trailed off. He felt a bit foolish, like an old man with senile dementia talking to himself.

      “God had nothing to do with it,” Sean suddenly barked, startling Roper. He’d almost forgot he’d said anything.

      “Well, all I’m saying—”

      “—so anything beautiful is from God, anything ugly or repulsive is from Satan. Pretty naive stuff isn’t it?” Sean hissed, still not looking at Roper.

      “I was just trying to make conversat—”

      “—Grosvenor’s arch was created by the very natural forces of nature, wind, water and frost. You don’t have to throw God into the mix. That’s just another layer that’s not needed.”

      “If you find a Rolex in the desert, you instinctively think it was made—”

      “—don’t give me that tired old watchmaker’s crap. I don’t see any machined parts lying around Grosvenor’s,” Sean declared as they bounced through another pothole, banging both their heads on the roof. “Do you?”

      “Well no, not in that sense, but certainly the human body is pretty intricate. So complex, it makes you think there has to be a creator.”

      “Yeah, he created man in his own image, I remember. Yet, man eats, drinks, defecates, urinates and copulates like any other mammal. Maybe, your precious damn cows were also created in God’s image.”

      “Maybe not the exact image,” Roper said, “but if you’ve got a template that works—”

      “—with a sledgehammer anyone can pound a square peg through a round hole.”

      “Well then, what do you believe?” Roper asked, immediately thinking he should have shut up. “I’m sure you’ve got a theory.”

      “Damn right, I do,” Sean confirmed. “I believe Darwin got it right on the first try. The reason we eat drink and copulate like animals is because we are animals. I know that idea drives you creationists crazy. You prefer to distance yourselves from the animals, but if you take into consideration the track record of the human race, I’m sure the animals would like to distance themselves from us. However, despite their objections, we did descend from primates.”

      “That’s is your opin—”

      “—I’m not finished yet,” Sean interrupted. “Eventually man developed the capacity for abstract thinking. With this newly acquired skill, he became capable of contemplating his own demise. Of course, this scared the hell out of him, so out of necessity he invented an antidote, something powerful enough to grant him eternal life. With a task this big, he needed a super power, a supreme being, so he created God. But eternal life is still a pretty big favor to ask of anyone, including God, so man developed an elaborate system to court God’s favor. Hence, worship, religion and sacrifice were born. Now that’s your real creation.”

      “This is getting us nowhere,” Roper said, “you’re certainly entitled to your opinion.”

      “And regardless of the absurdity, you are also entitled to yours,” Sean snarled as he braked down for a curve.

      Again, they rode in chilly silence. The road, resembling an obstacle course, darted up and down numerous dry washes and around countless S-curves, but in spite of the occasional assent, the trend was ever downward. Navigating off the steep bulwark of the Gut required all of Sean’s attention. Finally, the road leveled off a bit as they crossed the almost barren stretch of Four Mile Bench and approached the pygmy forest of Dog Flat. Without comment, Sean abruptly turned south off the more well-traveled road onto a barely visible two-tire track.

      “This is not the road to Paradise Canyon,” Roper observed.

      No answer.

      “Paradise Canyon is the other—”

      “—I know damn well,” Sean blurted out, “where Paradise Canyon is.”

      “Then, may I ask, where we are going?”

      “I just want to check on the Ruby Flat dig.” Sean forced out the words, as if it took a great effort. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”

      “An archeological dig?”

      “Paleontology.”

      “Looking for what?”

      “Dinosaurs.”

      “I didn’t know you were interested in that,” Roper said, arching an eyebrow.

      “Got my bachelor’s degree in paleontology,” Sean answered, warming slightly. “At the time, there were no jobs. So I’ve never really worked in the field.”

      “I know what you mean, my degree’s