In contrast, Bullcreek and her family have always lived on the reservation. Her brother, the late Bert Wash, was the tribal chairman before Leon Bear's father, Richard, replaced him. Fluent in the Goshute tongue, she calls herself a traditionalist.

She feels that the large utility corporations are invading their small tribe because they don't recognize their traditions. "You don't have to live in teepees to be a traditionalist," she said.

Bullcreek and her neighbor, Sammy Blackbear, have been leading the fight against the nuclear waste storage facility since Bear signed the lease with Private Fuel Storage in 1997. They organized a small opposition group called Ohnogo Gaudadeh Devia (Goshute for "mountain community"), mustering support from other Native American tribes, environmentalists and politicos.

Their attorney, Duncan Steadman, has filed a federal action to force the Bureau of Indian Affairs to reverse its approval of the lease agreement. State officials have openly supported the lawsuit and the Goshute opposition, using state funds to foster the legal challenge.

"I felt I had to be outspoken or lose everything that has been passed down from generations," Bullcreek said. "The stories that tell why we became the people we are and how we should consider our animal life, our air, things that are sacred to us."

Bullcreek has a powerful ally on her side. Gov. Mike Leavitt is confident the state can block the waste through a series of legal and regulatory challenges to the Nuclear Regulatory Commission licensing process.

Leavitt is also looking to Rep. Jim Hansen, R-Utah, chairman of the House Resources Committee, to exert congressional muscle to thwart PFS. And he considers President George W. Bush a friend who could feasibly block the deal through executive order.

But Sen. Orrin Hatch, R-Utah, is warning the governor that there is little that can be done in Washington to block the nuclear waste dump, and that powerful political forces are at work to make it happen. And make no mistake about it, he said: If nuclear waste comes to Utah, it will be permanent.

"The state needs to do some clever, creative thinking about how to stop this," Hatch said.

Leavitt insists he is. He plans to twist the arm of Minnesota Gov. Jesse Ventura to put the political stops on Minnesota-based PFS from shipping nuclear wastes from power plants there.

Closer to home, Leavitt is pushing the Utah Legislature to pass a law prohibiting Tooele County from providing electricity or water or other public services to the site. And he wants lawmakers to give him $1.6 million for a legal and public relations war on PFS.

And the war will be carried outside of Utah where accidents during rail transport of nuclear wastes could expose millions to the dangers of nuclear contamination.

Bear approaches the state's opposition with Zen-like indifference. Maybe the Goshutes win, maybe the state does. But if the proposal falls through, all is not lost.

"We're not dead in the water yet," he said. "We'll look for something else."

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E-MAIL: spang@desnews.com ; donna@desnews.com