by V. L. Locey
“The only thing I can tell you for sure is that they knew exactly which tent held the smaller finds, the ones that they could pack out with ease. And since we move things around on a weekly basis as we add more to the tally, that tells me one thing...” Bishop looked up from his half eaten breakfast to Mark.
“That there’s a rat among your hands,” Mark concluded as he looked at me.
“It seems so, but we have no idea who it is.” I sighed. My last few bites of egg not nearly as appealing as they had been.
“I’m going to have to question them all,” Mark stated before taking a sip of black coffee.
“Good luck with getting anything that way,” I said with candor. “Any chance you can ring up Loren Meneuz and ask him to speak with the men? He’s a constable on the reservation.”
“Mm, maybe. I know they’re swamped on most days with only two BIA officers to cover over thirty-five hundred miles. I’ll give him a call though.”
“If you can’t reach him let Perry know. I’m sure his grandfather will know the number.”
“Will do.” He downed the rest of his coffee as he stood. “Thank you for the food, Nate. Professor, if you think of anything else, anything at all, you can reach me here.” He handed Bishop a card, shook his hand again, and dropped his hat back onto his head. “I’m heading to the McCrary’s from here to see if they’ll be polite and let me and my deputy have a look around.”
“I’ve never known them to be polite,” I tossed out while studying Bishop. He looked washed out.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything. I’d never seen one of them come walking into my office to tell me that they had nothing to do with the first round of thefts either but lo and behold it did happen.” Ah yes, Shepherd. I had seen him leaving the sheriff’s office that day I was in town. “We’ll see how it rolls. Hope you get to feeling better, professor. Nate, I’ll let myself out.” Mark left his empty plate and mug on the island. After the front door clicked shut, I got up and began clearing the plates.
“I need to go to the site. Can you give me the keys to the—”
“The only place you’re going to is the sofa,” I tossed over my shoulder while scraping leftovers into the dirty frying pan to fling out to the chickens.
“You’re not the boss of me,” he parried with just enough whine to make me snicker.
“Respect your elders, young man.”
He blew a raspberry at my back. “Can you at least take me out so I can assist in cataloging what was taken and what we have left?” I sighed. “I’ll do nothing but sit in the shade and flaunt my doctoral authority all over the undergrads by making them do menial tasks such as running, fetching, and fanning my face with their thesis papers.”
“Two hours, in the shade, with the man who loves you at your side to ensure you don’t overdo.” I peeked over my shoulder and caught the eye roll but said nothing.
“Fine.” He’d given up far too easily, a sure sign he wasn’t up to snuff.
Once the kitchen was cleaned up and my chickens were feasting on toast crust and red peppers someone had picked out of their eggs, I helped Bishop with his hair. Pulling the thick mass up into his silly man bun tugged on the gash, so we simply tied it into a loose ponytail with a dark blue ribbon from Kailey’s box of hair accents. I was sure she would be happy to share with Bishop.
Kyle had gone to town with Perry and a few other hands to pick up a feed delivery so I rounded up Will and told him to search the supply sheds and barns for tarps and meet us at the dig. He tossed his shit fork to Ron Simmons, one of the newest hires, with a sigh of relief and a wince when he rolled his shoulders. Nothing like cleaning stalls to build upper body strength. Bet he wouldn’t appreciate the money we were saving him on a gym membership. Not that there was a gym within a thousand miles but the point was still valid.
***
Bishop was true to his word once we arrived. He supervised the clean-up and counting of artifacts. Were bones considered artifacts? Well, whatever. He sat in the shade or a torn tent and counted fossils, dark shades never coming off which worried me. Was his head aching? Probably so. Mine had for a few days, and it was nothing in comparison to the thumping Bishop had gotten.
I did the fetching for him, and the fanning, but didn’t use anyone’s thesis. I just used a battery-powered fan. Will rumbled up on one of our older four-wheelers, a mound of tarps strapped to the back rack.
“Sorry it took so long. I had to dig pretty hard to find these,” Will said as he handed out the tarps to the college students. He moseyed over to check out whatever Bishop was doing on a tablet, hands in his pockets, his busted lip dry and peeling, his left eye forming a dull shiner. “Did they take a lot?”
“Enough, the motherfuckers,” Bishop snarled as he typed.
“They’re stupid,” Will said, his gaze flitting over the only female on the dig team as she stretched up to secure a tarp over one of several holes in the ground. “I mean, they’re so blatant. Who rides up to a place you want to rob on four-wheelers? It’s dumb.”
“Rumor has it they’re from the next ranch,” Paula said as she went to tiptoe. Will’s gaze roamed down her backside and thighs.
“There is no proof to back up that rumor,” I pointed out.
“Well, if they take them to some old barn, they’re even stupider than I thought. No one with half a brain leaves shit lying around. If I were in charge of this operation I would have only run on paved roads so the cops couldn’t follow us so easily.” He swatted a fly that landed on his red neck. “Then I’d hightail it to Watson City where there’s a dude who deals in black market shit. No way would I leave something as valuable as a dinosaur—”
“Hold up, son,” I said, stepping away from Bishop for a moment. The sun was hot as hell, the air alive with insects. “Are you saying there’s a man in Watson City who fences stolen property?”
Will tore his eyes from Veer to glance at me. “Yeah.”
“And you know this how?” I folded my arms over my chest. The university students had stalled out as well to listen.
“Not because I sold some stupid hockey goose cup to him,” Will snapped, bristling like a peccary.
“No one ever said you did. I only asked where you knew this mysterious fence from.” I took a step closer, our sight locked.
“He was in juvie with me,” Will said with a casual roll of a shoulder. “When we got out we kept in touch.”
The wheels in my head were spinning. “Can you get us a meeting with this buddy of yours?”
Will glanced from Veer to me then to Bishop. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I gave you a job. Also because it’s the right thing to do,” I replied without raising my voice. Will pulled out his vape cigarette and gave me a look of utter disinterest.
“Let me think on it.” He meandered off to find a place to vape when Craig chastised him for blowing mist in his face.
“You know, I’m usually pretty chill but that guy makes me want to shove a longboard up his ass,” Bishop snapped then took off his sunglasses to rub at his eyes.
“Headache?” I asked, dropping down into a crouch in front of him.
“Yeah, it’s getting pretty bad.”
I eased the tablet out of his hand, passed it to Veer, and stood. “Too much screen time. Time for you to go home and rest.” He mumbled a bit, just a bit, but got to his sandals.
“Veer, you finish cataloging. Bring the final tally to my place this evening. The night shift should be here before you leave. If they’re not then use the long-range walkie talkies to contact the main house who will call me. No one is to be out here after dusk.” I gave all four of the undergrads my stone cold “I mean business” look then escorted Bishop to my truck.
His face was tight and drawn when he slid into the cab. “Are you sure you shouldn’t have gone to the ER? I’ll be happy to take you.”
He gave me a reedy smile. “You’re such a worry wort. It’ll go away. I just need some darkness and
a few Advil. Maybe a handsome cowpoke sucking my dick?”
I snorted in amusement at the outlandish face he made. “I never knew blowjobs could cure headaches.”
“Baby, a blowjob cures anything. Ask any man.”
I patted his arm then shut the passenger door, turning, and almost colliding with Will Abbott. He walked off a few yards before jerking his head at me to join him.
“Tootch,” Will mumbled.
“Excuse me?”
“My friend. His name is Tootch.”
“Tootch?”
“Lance Gaylord.” His blue eyes darted about as if he thought someone would hear him revealing the name of this crooked buddy of his. I was pretty sure the prairie dogs over on the next rise didn’t give two shits about this Lance Gaylord.
“Thank you.” I offered him my hand.
He eyed it as if it were a scorpion. “I can show you where he does business, but I’m not taking that cop. He’ll haul me in for something like aiding and abetting or something, and I need to stay clean for parole. It’s me and you, that’s it.”
I paused for a moment, hand still in the air, to think that over. “What about a tribal officer?”
“No. Cops. Just you and me. And Perry.”
“Perry? Why him?”
“Because I said so! Fuck, man, you want to get your boyfriend’s bones back or not?”
“Okay, just us three. Tonight as soon as dinner is over. It’ll take us about two hours or so to get to Watson City. Is that okay?”
“Yeah sure, it’s fine.” He slapped his palm over mine, pumped my hand once, then jogged off to his four-wheeler and rode off without a backward glance.
“Hey, everything okay?” Bishop called from the truck.
I slowly turned and flashed a bright smile. “Yep, everything is just fine. Let’s get you home so I can fret over you some more.”
***
Surfer dude paleontologists can be really stubborn when they want to be.
As can ranchers and men in love.
It had taken me a good twenty minutes of arguing with Bishop as I got ready to go pick up Will and Perry to finally get him to see that he was not going. No way in hell. The man just had his head glued back together less than twenty-four hours ago.
“But this man might have my bones!” he said, again, for the tenth time.
“And if he does we’ll get them back,” I stated, again, for the tenth time. “You’re supposed to be resting. Also,” I jammed in as he opened his mouth to make a point, “Will said it could only be the three of us. If you’re there he may balk, and then we’ll lose this one possible lead.”
“I hate you.” He began sulking. It was rather adorable, but I didn’t mention that.
“No, you don’t,” I replied as I grabbed my keys and wallet.
“You’re right,” he huffed from his nest on the sofa. I’d made sure he had everything he needed for the night alone. Food, tea, blanket, pillows, Netflix password, cat between his legs, and a few Advil just in case. “Call me, okay? As soon as you leave this nefarious den of stolen antiquities.”
“For some reason, I doubt there will be many antiquities. Probably just lots of watches, tablets, and whatever else kids are stealing these days.” I took my hat from the side table and settled it on my head. “I promise I’ll call as soon as the meeting is over.”
His bottom lip was still dangling when I left, even after a tender goodbye kiss.
The ride to the bunkhouse was short. Not short enough given the sour looks both young men were wearing. Perry climbed in first, then Will, his long legs bent up so far his knees were close to his chin. Will nudged and prodded. Perry shoved. Will shoved back. And I spoke up.
“Okay, enough!” I barked and the foolishness ceased. “I don’t know what the real story is with you two, but it ends now. Will, you asked for Perry to come along so stop being an asshole about the room he takes up.” Perry’s eyes flew to Will, who decided to stare out the window on his right. “Perry, I expect better from the man who’s in charge of the bunkhouse. This will be a long ride and all our nerves are frayed. Stop acting like children.”
Spleen vented, I cranked up Gordon’s “Canadian Railroad Trilogy” as we pulled away from the long log building the hands called home.
The ride south was quiet save full albums from Gordon, Harry, and James Taylor. The youngsters packed into the cab mumbled a bit every time I ejected one CD and slid in another which made me chuckle internally. After about an hour of my music, they both shoved earbuds into their heads and rode along in silence, shooting each other sly glances.
I had my suspicions about the two of them but kept my thoughts to myself. I’d ask a few questions when the time was right.
When we pulled into the small town of Watson City a little after nine at night, I took note of the rundown appearances of the homes and storefronts. Sadly, it was pretty typical of farming communities across the country. Watson City had been built in a hurry back in the days of the Wyoming cattle boom of the late eighteen hundreds. Afterward, it had to find other means of survival and by the looks of it, the city was failing to cling to life. Also typical.
Young men and women did not flock to ranching and farming as they used to. When the young people left all that remained of a town were retirees and memories of how things used to be. Watson City was gasping for every breath.
“There’s a garage over there, behind the old video store,” Will announced, the first words he had spoken in over two hours. I turned down Harry and parked in front of a boarded-up Blockbuster. A hot wind blew down the street, kicking up papers and dirt. “Stay here.”
He slipped out of the truck like a wraith. I killed the engine then gave Perry a long, hard look.
“Care to tell me what exactly the story is with you two?” A couple of kids peddled past on bikes, calling out obscenities as they passed. A skinny dog ran after them.
“Nope.” Perry sat stiff as a new board, arms crossed over his chest, staring straight ahead.
“Well, whatever it is, I want it sorted out. I put you in charge of the hands to keep the peace in the bunkhouse. You’re usually so levelheaded about things and people. Is it because he has a record?”
“Nope.”
He rolled his lips over his teeth much like his grandfather did when he was having trouble keeping a dirty joke contained. I doubted Perry was biting back some raunchy pun or limerick.
“Okay, I get it. It’s personal. Just remember that a good foreman doesn’t allow his personal life to eke into his professional life.”
“Yes, sir,” he replied, some of the icy snap now missing from his tone.
Sensing I’d gotten all I was going to get from the tightlipped fellow beside me, I let my attention move to the street. A few cars rolled past as the lights at the ends of the main drag shifted from green to yellow to red. Perry wiggled over a bit, sighing when he straightened out his legs. He began rubbing his thighs as he studied the alleyway that Will had disappeared into. After ten minutes had slowly ticked off Perry’s palms were moving in a blur. His worn jeans were going to ignite soon. I was about to say something to him when two forms stepped out of the shadowed alley. Will was one, Tootch the other, or so I assumed.
They walked up to the truck. Will leaned on the door, elbow just inside the open window. The other young man was shorter than Will, pudgy, with skin as pale as snow. He was wearing one of those snapback hats or whatever the hell they were called. I could only see one side of his face, and most of that was hidden by the brim of the black cap. He had terrible acne.
“Tootch said that the bone dudes have been to see him twice,” Will informed us, his voice low and secretive.
“Yeah, twice,” Tootch seconded.
“They were really hot to get rid of those bones,” Will whispered.
“Yeah, hot,” Tootch added.
“Since he doesn’t deal in that kind of shit he told them to go to Laramie.”
“Yeah, Laramie.”
I sat
on the urge to slap the parrot in the camo ballcap. Perry was quiet as a church mouse beside me.
“They got mad. One of them, a big Indian dude with a chipped front tooth, hit him in the face.”
“Yeah, fucker.” Tootch turned his head to show us the shiner he was sporting then quickly went back to staring down the street, shoulders up by his ears, hat low on his brow.
“Chip Tooth Dude left him a cell number to call in case he changed his mind within the next two days. Then they broke all the windows in his car as a way of saying he better change his mind. Tootch has since then gone out of the redistribution of previously owned goods and is working at the Buck-A-Basket dollar store out on the highway stocking shelves.”
“Yeah, Buck-A-Basket,” Tootch muttered then held out his hand.
I looked from the open palm to Will. He shrugged. “I told him there was a fifty in it if he told us about the dino bone dudes.”
“I’ll give you a hundred if you share that cell phone number,” I said to Tootch. He bit down on his lower lip, grunted, and shoved his hand into his front pocket. He pulled out a strip of lined paper that read NOTES in some fancy script. The skinny bit of paper fluttered into my hand. “Thank you, Tootch. We really appreciate your cooperation.”
“Yeah, cooperation.” He shook his empty hand at me. Rising up, I dug my wallet out of my back pocket, peeled off two hundred dollar bills, and passed them to Tootch. He shoved them into the front pocket of his baggy jeans then left, melting into the alleyway like a shade.
“What are you going to do with the number?” Will asked when he wedged himself back into the cab of the truck. There was less shoving this time. Both seemed reluctant to touch the other but there was no way not to in such a small space.
“I’m going to give it to Mark,” I stated, placing the thin scrap into my wallet.
“You promised I’d not be mentioned in this!”
“And you won’t be. I’ll tell Mark that some anonymous do-gooder passed the information along to me and I, being a do-gooder as well, was handing it over to law enforcement.”