by V. L. Locey
“Nate, you need to snap out of it!” Kyle shouted, ripping me out of that dark past. I blinked at the darkness that had fallen over the land. “We got incoming!”
No sooner had he said that a pack of four-wheelers sped past us, lights out, they split like the Red Sea before Moses. I spun around in my seat, trying to make out the machines or the riders, but it was simply too dark.
“Do we follow?” Kyle asked as we streaked along, the dry creek bed leading us to the site.
“No,” I ground out, my fingers gouging the dashboard. “I have to get to Bishop. I can’t lose him. I can’t be late!”
Kyle said nothing as he focused on driving. The lanterns at the site came into view. I nearly climbed out then, but I waited, somehow, until the truck stopped. Then I threw the door open and ran as fast as I could into the tangle of downed tarps.
“Over here!”
I spun to see Veer over by the latrine, waving his hands over his head. The camp was now flooded with headlights. I ran over to him, and he was sporting a gash on his cheek.
“We tried to fight them off but there were too many,” Veer’s apology turning into white noise as I leaped over a cooler of spilled soft drinks to kneel beside Bishop. He was flat out, blood running from his scalp down over his forehead. His eyes were open and for a second, all I could see was Kailey’s lifeless stare. Then, he blinked at the blood in his eyes, and I exhaled a breath I didn’t even know I’d been holding.
“Hey, cowboy,” Bishop groaned and tried to sit up. “Oh fuck, yeah no.” He wobbled a bit. I slid my arms around him and eased him back to the hard dirt. “They rode up on us from that way,” Bishop said while waving a bloodied hand in the general direction of the Hollow Wind land. Kyle was yelling at the others. Someone was shouting directions into the walkie talkies. Landon, I think, telling Montrell to send out a paramedic unit. “Did they get the bones? I swear I will kill those bastards if they got more of my trike.”
“Just rest. We’ll worry about bones later.” I ran my hands over his arms. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“No, just my head. Veer, did they get anything?” He tried to sit up again, blanched, and then threw up all over himself. Stubborn ass. I eased him back down. There was so much going on at once, Bishop bloody and sick, the others shouting to each other. People running around the dig site, and all I could do was cradle Bishop in my arms while I dabbed at his bloody head with my hankie. “If they stole more bones, I want you to round up a posse.”
It took over forty-five minutes for the Copper Falls ambulance to arrive. By then Bishop had gotten to his feet so he could wobble around the site checking on his bones, in particular one of the horns that they’d lovingly gotten out of the ground just two days ago. Thankfully, the poachers had struck out this time, probably due to the two rabid paleontologists defending their site with shovels and picks until the cavalry could arrive.
“I really think you should go to the ER,” Ronnie, one of two first responders who had arrived, was telling my boyfriend. Again. “Your symptoms sound like it could be a concussion.”
“I’m fine. They’ll do nothing for a concussion but watch me. Nate can watch me. We have to get this area secured and my students—”
“We’ll do that for you,” I interjected as we sat in the back of the ambulance, Bishop’s head being tended to by Pauline, the other paramedic. “You’re going home to bed where I can supervise your condition.”
He winced as Pauline apologized but continued to apply some sort of glue to his four inch laceration. His face was a mess, dirt and blood dried everywhere, not to mention his clothing was ruined and stank. No, he was not lingering around out here. He was going to my cabin to get cleaned up and into bed. And if he thought to argue with me, I’d remind him just who the foreman of this ranch was.
“You’re awfully demanding suddenly,” he whispered, grimaced, and started talking to Pauline about a skull he had read about that had been found during an excavation in Britain. Seems there had been a Viking bone spoon with the fractured skull, but he had hypothesized that the spoon was not the murder weapon, but then again, it could have been.
“You know how those Vikings were. Ouch!” he hissed. I held his hand and smiled, like a dolt, I couldn’t stop smiling. And the more he rambled on the wider my grin became. He was okay, or would be, I was pretty sure. Worry still clawed at my guts but he seemed all right. There had been so much blood...
But he hadn’t died before I could get here.
Kyle rapped on the open door of the ambulance. “Can I talk to you privately?” he asked then gave Bishop a thumbs-up.
“I’ll be right outside,” I told Bishop. He nodded, incredibly slowly, and I gave his hand a squeeze before slipping out into the cool night. Kyle and I walked a few feet from the ambulance, the flashing red lights bouncing off the trucks and tents. “What did you find?”
“We followed the tracks to the property line. Someone cut the fencing, and they hightailed it onto the Hollow Wind land. I say we go pay the fucking McCrary’s a social call and ask them where the bones are. And if they don’t tell us we’ll give them what they gave to Veer and your man.”
“No,” I replied with a shake of my head. “We’re calling the sheriff.” My number one started to protest. “Kyle, do not fight me on this.” He snapped his jaw shut. “We have no proof that the poachers have any ties to the McCrary’s.”
“But the tracks led right to their land,” he argued anyway. Knowing his hatred for the neighbors was pushing him to be such a hardhead, I let it go but stuck to my guns. After a ten minute discussion with Landon making the call that finally shut up my first-in-command, I left them to handle the law aspect. I was more concerned with getting some hands back on watch out here and getting Bishop home.
Both were done within the hour, and I had just eased Bishop into bed after a long, hot shower and some of that rooibos vanilla chai tea that he enjoyed. A box had miraculously turned up in my cupboard a few weeks ago, right around the time his toothbrush took up residence beside mine in the holder.
“Lay back now,” I instructed while lifting the half empty mug of tea from his hands.
“I like it when you pamper me, but you don’t have to.” He leaned back into the mound of pillows I’d stacked up behind him. His hair was still damp. I could see the bright red gash on his scalp where his flesh had been glued back together. It had taken me using just the tips of my fingers in the shower to gently wash away the blood while not disturbing the adhesive.
“Humor me,” I replied, pulling the covers up to our chins after I had doused the light. “You have no idea how terrified I was when Veer’s panicked voice came over the walkie talkie.”
“Yeah, I think I do.” He rolled to face me, his fingers dancing up my face to stroke my beard. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Someone has to help you work on your surfing form.”
Bane leaped up to join us, taking a few moments to knead on the cover before curling into a tight red ball of fur between Bishop and me.
I kissed his lips softly. He drifted off quickly, his steady sounds of sleep should have comforted me, but my mind was a whirlwind of thought, worry, and guilt. We’d let our guard down. That was on us, me and Landon, for pulling those extra hands from the dig site. I would never be able to forgive myself for the injuries Bishop and Veer had suffered tonight.
About an hour into my flagellation, my phone buzzed. The sound was loud and jarring in the quiet of a summer night. I slid from under Bishop, taking care that his head came to rest gently on his pillow, then snatched the vibrating phone off the nightstand and padded out to the living room in my briefs. The room was warm, and I threw the front door open then stepped outside to stare up at the sliver of moon.
“Hey,” I said into the cell.
“I was about to hangup and come check on you two,” Landon replied.
“Bishop was sleeping, and I didn’t want to wake him up so I snuck outside.”
“Ah okay. Sorry
to disturb you. We were worried.” I found that quite touching considering Landon was my employer. He and Montrell were genuinely caring people. I’d had many a boss who were not over my years. “So, Mark just left. We told him everything that’s taken place since...well since forever ago it seems. He was not overly impressed with us not contacting him about the theft at the house although he did understand. He did express a desire to get the curio dusted for fingerprints but since all the glass is now in the trash and the cleaning crew has been here...” He sighed deeply. “Since it’s such a small office he has there in Copper Falls there’s no lab of any sort, so they’ve put in a call to Jackson Hole for their forensic people to come out. Montrell and I are waiting for them to show up now.”
“I hope they can find something to clear Will.”
“Me too. There’s been too many secrets on this ranch to suit me. Anyway, he’s now at the cabins talking to Veer. He wanted to come out and get a statement from Bishop, but I told him that could wait until tomorrow. I could tell that you were really distressed seeing him hurt.”
I nodded even though the man couldn’t see me. A coyote howled nearby and one of the horses in the barn whinnied at the sound.
“It was upsetting,” I said, my throat suddenly thick. I looked from the moon to the stars. The hundred billion trillion of them in the inky blackness. My vision blurred. A tear escaped. I dashed it away with haste. Landon had no clue why I’d been so rattled. Perhaps it was time to come clean with the man. “When you first came out here you asked me about my past. Why and how I’d come to be working at the Prairie Smoke. I lied to you.”
“About what?” He sounded tense. So I told him. Everything. Just as I had told Bishop.
When I was done the moon and stars were still in place, but I felt as if I’d stepped through some sort of portal onto a planet with zero gravity. The weight of keeping Kailey’s death and my guilt over not being there for her when she passed over had held me a prisoner for ages. Bound with lead shackles my soul had been unable to fly, to find any kind of peace. Now, I felt lighter. It was amazing what the mere act of speaking of something painful to people who cared could do for a man’s spirit.
“If you want me to leave the ranch, I’d understand. I lied to you,” I said at the end.
“Nate, dear God, as if I would hold that tiny little omission against you,” he coughed out. “Give me a moment.” I waited, the soles of my feet resting on the worn planks of my tiny porch, my eyes on the cosmos. He cleared his throat and blew his nose. “Okay, I’m better now. You’re not going anywhere. Do you really think I could survive one day without you running this ranch?”
“Well...”
“No, be honest.”
That made me smile a bit. “No.”
“Damn right. So you’re staying right here until you retire.” I chuckled. “Nate, I am incredibly sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. It was years ago but I still think of her daily.”
“As you should. Tiny angels should be carried in our hearts and memories forever.” He coughed again. I gave him time. “Okay, so, I want you to go to bed. Try to sleep. Mark will be out tomorrow, or today I suppose, to speak with Bishop. I need you to keep a tight rein on Kyle until this is settled. We have no proof of any kind that the sunny little clan we live next to have anything to do with any of our problems.”
“Agreed, and I’ll sit on him no worries.”
“Good man. Now go to bed. We’ll talk more later tomorrow. Today. Whatever the fuck.”
“Thank you, Landon. For being so understanding.”
“Thank you for being such a fine man and foreman. Go to bed. Rest easy. We’ll figure all of this out.”
“Night, boss.” I ended the call then took another few moments to find the Big Dipper before my sight touched on the Tetons. Their earth song played in my ears, and I was healed yet again. I slid in beside Bishop and Bane, sleep avoiding me, and spent the night listening to the concerto of nature wafting through my bedroom window as my lover slept at my side.
Chapter Thirteen
I’d only meant to sit down outside of Tiberius’s stall after graining him to rest for a minute. The square bale of hay looked so inviting, and I was so damn tired. I’d not gotten a moment of sleep the night before. I was too busy listening to the crickets, owls, wolves, and Bishop breathing to nod off. Even with double the amount of caffeine in me, I was fading fast. It sucked to get old. Back in my college days, I could go two or three days on little to no sleep. Now I have one bad night, and my ass was dragging.
So, I took a break. Something that I rarely did especially in front of the hands, but I was just going to rest my stiff back for a second. Ass on hay, back on stall door, legs stretched out in front of me, I closed my eyes to contemplate on things.
“Hey.” A jolt to my boot startled me out of what had been deep sleep. I jerked and glanced upward, glowering at Kyle as he stood above me with Mark at his side. “Sorry to wake you up...”
“I wasn’t sleeping. I was just thinking.” I stood and offered Mark my hand as the ranch hands gave the lawman the widest berth they could.
It was sad, but I understood. Hundreds of years of the police treating the Native Americans in our country as if they were second-class citizens had built up a healthy dislike for the men from the reservation who came over to work for us. We’d never had a bit of trouble from any of the workers the Bureau of Indian Affairs sent our way through a job placement program. It was how Perry came to us as well as many others over the years. Hell, we’d had more trouble with Will Abbott in less than a month than we had ever had from the Native Americans who worked here. But old hate dies hard. Thankfully, Mark was one of the good ones. Speaking of Will, he chose that time to meander by with some tack and a swollen lip. I’d not seen Perry this morning, but I doubted he looked much better.
“Think we can talk?” Mark asked. I waved a hand at the barn doors. Kyle, me, and the man in the stiffly pressed tan uniform with the big silver badge stepped out into the early morning sun. We made our way to the corral, a small pasture with white wooden fencing that needed painting badly. Inside the pasture were Perry’s red and white pinto mare Chex and her foal Kima.
“This do?” I asked. Mark nodded then removed his hat to show a balding head with more silver than brown hair.
“Warming up fast,” Mark opened with as he dabbed at his sweaty brow. Kyle and I bobbed our heads. “I’ve already been to the big house and spoke to Landon. He wanted me to relay to you what I found last night.” He looked right at me. “And to relay a warning to you,” he said then glared at Kyle. My first bristled a bit but wisely kept his mouth closed.
“Go on,” I prompted as Kima kicked up her heels while her mama grazed on sweet grass.
“The tracks at the scene do lead directly into the Hollow Wind property,” Mark said then crammed his hankie back into his pants pocket.
“I told you that last night,” Kyle stated with vinegar. I gave him a scowl. “Well, I did.”
“Yes, you did,” Mark replied as he adjusted his hat on his head. “And I had to see for myself. I’ll be riding to the McCrary house once I leave here to speak with them and ask politely if they would let me search their barns. If they refuse, I’ll have to get a warrant which will take time that I’d rather not waste but—”
“Let me go talk to them,” Kyle said with a gleam in his eye.
“No one from this ranch is to step foot on the Hollow Wind land. If I get a call saying anyone was seen even near their property, I will toss asses into my jail cell. It might be small, but I wager I can fit a few of you in there.”
“So they just come over here and rob us and the university blind, and we’re supposed to sit here on our thumbs?! That’s bullshit. Mark, you know the McCrary’s are shit.”
“I know that without evidence nothing can be done. I also know that there are laws in place that I have to adhere to. Now, that is how this is going to play out. Do not make me get my ugly face out of the j
ar. No one likes it, least of all me.”
Mark stared at Kyle with cold gray eyes.
“Fine. Fuck around with your warrants and shit while they sell off all the professor’s bones. Stupid laws,” he grumbled as he stalked off, anger rising off him like heat waves off a blacktopped road.
“Nate,” Mark said, and I held up a hand.
“I’ll keep him on a short leash. Any news on the burglary at the big house?”
“Nothing yet. The forensic boys should have something for me soon. They said three to five days, but I know one fellow so he might be able to get a rush put on it. For now, you all are going to have to chill out as the kids say.”
“Chilling is hard when people are hurting someone you care about, but we’ll do our best.”
“Good. Now, any chance I can speak with this professor of yours?”
I gave him a nod not even thinking to say that Bishop wasn’t mine. That denial ship had sailed.
I led him to my cabin to discover Bishop was up, showered, and was burning some eggs and charring some toast.
“Hey, so this is happening,” he said with a wave of a spatula. I threw the kitchen window open to let the smoke roll out before I gently nudged him away from the stove with my hip.
“Bishop, this is Mark Lucerne, the Copper Falls sheriff. Mark, this is Dr. Bishop Haney.” They shook hands. “Mark, can I interest you in some breakfast?”
He gingerly lifted a slice of black toast from the toaster. “Not if it all looks like this.”
“It won’t,” I said then gave Bishop a small smile.
I tossed the black toast out the door to the chickens then whipped us up a pan of scrambled eggs with salsa and melted pepper jack cheese, new toast on the side as well as a fresh pot of coffee. As Mark ate, he peppered Bishop with questions. Bishop answered them the best he was able. He’d not gotten a good look at the bone poachers given the mayhem of men and ATVs racing around the site in the dark. Also there was the small fact that one of the criminals had clunked him on the head, still on a four-wheeler, as they rode in like Jesse James and his gang on motorized steeds.