by Des Hunt
The horses were very wary of our approach, and at first wouldn’t let us get closer than thirty metres before they retreated. As I moved forward, I spoke gently to them and they settled a bit, but not enough for me to get close to touching them. In the end I let them be.
I decided that they must be wild horses. That didn’t mean that they’d been stolen. Every so often the Department of Conservation removed horses from the wild herd and passed them on to other groups. Some of them got broken in and became excellent jumpers. A good Kaimanawa horse could sell for more than a thousand dollars. Maybe that was what the Basinhead Gang were doing: breaking in wild horses and selling them for a profit. The container could contain the gear for breaking the horses. The whole thing could be perfectly legal.
Our return to the path took us through one of the few patches of scrub on the canyon floor. It was in there that we made a grisly discovery—the corpse of a horse. It had plainly been dead for some time, for there was hardly any smell. All of the innards had decayed, leaving a purple mess within the skeleton. It could have been a month old or a year; there was no way we could tell.
‘How do you think it died?’ asked Mits.
‘Who knows?’
‘Maybe it was old age.’
‘We can soon tell.’ I picked up the skull and forced open the jaws. ‘Hey, look here! Someone’s removed some teeth.’
All one side of the upper jaw was missing. The jaw had been pulverised with something like a hammer to release the roots. Whoever did it sure wanted to get those teeth.
‘It didn’t die of old age,’ said Mits, as if he knew all about horses.
‘Ha!’ I replied. ‘What do you know about horses’ teeth?’
‘Nothing! But I can recognize a bullet hole when I see one. Look!’ He pointed to a neat hole in the top of the skull, just behind the eye sockets. ‘Somebody shot it.’
That’s when I started feeling sick. Something was going on around this place, and I felt none of it was right. There were padlocked containers, trucks in the middle of the night, horses hidden in canyons, and now a horse that had been shot dead. The worst thing was that we weren’t finished in the canyon yet, and I doubted that the Basinhead Gang were either. Sooner or later we were going to meet them face to face, and who could tell what would happen then?
Chapter 13
We returned to Napier on Sunday afternoon. There was nothing more we could do about the fossil until we got help, and hanging around the canyon would only increase the chances of clashing with the Basinhead Gang.
Unfortunately, my plan to have Ms Marshall visit the canyon during the next week was dashed when I called at the museum on Monday: she was out of town and wouldn’t return until late Wednesday. All I could do was make an appointment for Thursday and hope she could come to Pounamu at the weekend.
It was a frustrating three days, waiting around until Thursday. However, it did give us the chance to prepare our presentation. Mits worked on a PowerPoint presentation using the photos he’d taken, while I worked on the casts.
The epoxy resin mould was an inverted image of the fossil. To get the true image I had to fill it with plaster of Paris. It took some experimenting before I had several excellent replicas of the cast. I then worked on them with paints until, at a glance, you would think they were the real thing.
On Wednesday night, Mrs Smithson invited Dad and me for dinner so that both families could view our presentation. Mits started with his PowerPoint projected onto the large screen in the Smithsons’ lounge. He’d done an impressive job. By blending images into one another, you got the impression of The Tooth being unveiled before your eyes.
Then, on the last slide, he’d let his fantasy take flight. He had superimposed a picture of a dragon so that The Tooth was part of the dragon’s mouth. It was so well done you could almost imagine that the overhang contained the skeleton of the dragon. Everyone had a good chuckle about it.
I then presented my models. While they had less of an impact than the photos, everyone agreed that they looked remarkably like a real fossil, and gave a sense of being incredibly ancient. Altogether it was a great evening and ended up with them promising their support.
I’d wanted to meet Karen Marshall by myself; however, Mits insisted on being there. I agreed only when he accepted that I would do the talking and he would remove the slide showing the dragon. The last thing we needed was her thinking we were just silly kids, full of fantasies.
We met her in an office on the top floor. The room was decorated with fossils and stuffed birds. On her desk were a number of smaller objects, including a glass paperweight containing what looked like a dinosaur tooth.
After I’d introduced Mits, she asked, ‘So, I gather you’re here to see your mother’s things?’
‘Yes, please,’ I replied. ‘But there’s something we’d like to show you first.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh yes, and what’s that?’
‘We’ve found a dinosaur fossil.’
‘Oh?’ she said in a doubting voice.
‘Yes,’ I went on, trying to ignore her reaction. ‘And we made a cast of it.’ I fished a replica out of my bag and placed it on her desk. She picked it up, and slowly the look on her face changed from one of doubt to one of astonishment. It was wonderful to watch.
‘You made this?’ she said, excitedly.
‘Yes.’
‘You’re not having me on, are you?’ The doubt was slowly returning.
‘No. We’ve also got a lot of photos which we can show you.’
Mits pulled out the disc. ‘Can we use your computer?’
The disc was loaded and Mits went through his presentation. Karen stopped him at a couple of places to ask questions, which I answered. Then, just when I thought it was finished, Mits clicked to the dragon one.
‘Oops,’ he said, although I knew he’d done it intentionally.
Karen burst out laughing. ‘Very good,’ she said laughing some more. ‘Yes, we all have our dreams. I’ve always wanted to find a big dinosaur fossil, but it’s unlikely to happen around here. Still, this tooth will do very nicely.’
She studied the replica some more. ‘So, how did you know where to look?’
I told her the complete story from my earliest memories, right through to our discovery in the middle of the night.
‘You kids are incredible,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Absolutely incredible.’ She picked up the glass paperweight. ‘Do you know what this is?’
‘A dinosaur tooth?’ I suggested.
‘Yes. But it’s much more than that. It is a replica of the Mantell tooth—the first dinosaur fossil ever identified. This was found in England in 1820 by a Mary Mantell. Her husband, Gideon Mantell, identified it as the tooth from a large reptile which he called the Iguanadon. Later, another man—Richard Owen—invented the name ‘dinosaur’—meaning terrible lizard—to describe it and other fossils that were beginning to be found. Gideon and Mary’s son, Walter, came to live in New Zealand, bringing with him this fossil. It now lies in Te Papa as one of their most important treasures. The Mantell tooth really was the start of all thinking about dinosaurs. That’s how important a single tooth can be.’
Her eyes went to the replica in her hand. ‘And your fossil will also become a treasure. Perhaps it will become known as the Thomas tooth,’ she chuckled. ‘It might seem like just a tooth, but for New Zealand palaeontologists it will be a gold mine.’
I smiled. ‘So, you’ll help us get it out of the rock?’
‘The museum will certainly want to be involved,’ she replied. ‘But we will probably need people from Te Papa as well. We would want to examine all of the surrounding rocks and that could take a long time.’
‘We don’t have a long time,’ said Mits. ‘It’s likely to be flooded soon.’ We then went on to explain about the hydro dam and the lake.
She listened in silence. When we’d finished, she said, ‘I think I’d better go out there and take a look.’
This w
as just what we wanted. I’d already organized to take Dad out on Saturday. ‘Can you come this weekend?’
‘Yes,’ she said without hesitation. ‘But do we have permission to go onto the place? The museum couldn’t go onto private land unless we had permission.’
‘I’ll get permission,’ I said quickly.
‘It has to be in writing.’ She pulled a form out of a drawer. ‘As soon as this is signed we can go.’
I took the form and we left soon afterwards. In our excitement, Mum’s paintings were forgotten and we didn’t make the trip down to the basement. I didn’t mind. We were doing other things which were equally important in remembering her. The paintings would wait for another day.
That evening it started raining. By the time I went to bed it was pouring down. Every time I woke, I could hear the rain pounding on our iron roof. The drought was over. I listened and worried. If they had closed the diversion tunnel at the dam, then we were in real trouble.
By mid-morning the rain had stopped, much to my relief. After ringing Grandad to get the address, I set off on my bike for the retirement village where Fred and Sarah Hyde were now living. I needed a signature on the museum’s permission slip.
The village was nestled under some hills out Taradale way. I didn’t know which particular unit was the Hydes’, so I had to call at the office. Then they had to telephone Sarah and Fred to see if they wanted to see me.
‘What did you say the name was?’ came a loud male voice out of the telephone.
‘Timothy Thomas, Mr Hyde,’ repeated the office lady.
‘Timothy Thomas? Never heard of him. Tell him to go away.’ Then we heard a muffled voice in the background. ‘Oh,’ said Fred, ‘that boy.’ Then louder. ‘All right, he can come over. Though I don’t know why he would want to see us.’
The office lady gave me directions, and a minute later I was knocking at their door, wondering what I was letting myself in for.
Sarah Hyde opened the door and greeted me warmly, before leading the way into a small lounge. Fred was sitting in a rocker chair by a ranchslider. He acknowledged my presence with a nod. Then we sat in silence while Sarah insisted on getting me a drink and some cake.
When everyone was seated, Sarah asked, ‘Do you remember us?’
‘No. I’m sorry. I remember very little from that time.’
‘Well, you were only small, weren’t you?’
‘He’s still small,’ put in Fred. ‘Hasn’t grown up much at all. He’s still a runt.’
‘Oh, there’s plenty of time to grow yet. He could end up bigger than you,’ said Sarah. She was plainly annoyed by her husband’s rudeness.
Fred snorted. ‘Had a phone call from your grandfather the other day. He’s not much of a man either.’
That’s all right, I thought, because he thinks you’re a silly old coot. Out loud I said, ‘That was about the people living on your farm. Do you know what they’re doing?’
‘Clearing the scrub is what they’re doing. Are you suggesting something else?’ His voice showed the first touch of fear.
‘They’re also doing something with horses,’ I said. ‘They’ve got horses down in the canyon by the river.’
‘They’re allowed to. They can do what they like.’ This time the fear was obvious. I decided to leave the horses alone.
‘Is that what you’ve come about? To tell me what they’re doing. Well, you’ve wasted your time. I don’t want to know.’
‘No,’ I said patiently. ‘I came to ask for permission to go onto the land looking for fossils. I’ve got a form from the museum that needs signing.’
Fred thought about that for a while before asking, ‘What sort of fossils?’
I had rehearsed my answer to this. ‘We won’t know for certain until we’ve looked. But the rocks are the right type and age for something.’
I could see him processing the information. I got the feeling that he wanted to agree, but something was holding him back. ‘No!’ he said finally.
As soon as I started to argue he cut me off. ‘I said no! And that is my final answer. Now get out of my house.’
What could I do? Nothing, except to stand and leave. Sarah followed me to the door before closing it with a bang. Dejected, I walked slowly back to the office where I’d parked my bike. What was I going to do now? Without permission, Karen Marshall could not help us; without Karen, we couldn’t retrieve the dinosaur. And if it stayed in the rock, it would soon be lost for ever. The whole thing was being messed up by a grumpy, rude old man.
Then I heard my name called; not loudly, but urgently and with determination.
‘Timothy. Wait!’ It was Sarah Hyde. She guided me behind the office so that we were out of view of their house.
‘I’m sorry about that,’ she said, sadly. ‘His mind’s not the way it once was.’
‘He seemed scared,’ I said.
She thought for a while before answering. Then she pointed to a house three down from theirs. ‘That’s where Mr and Mrs Williams live. They’re a nice couple, but their boys are mongrels. They’re the ones out at the farm. The other day, after your grandad rang, I mentioned the call to them. Half an hour later one of the sons arrives at our house. I wasn’t in the room, but from the sound of his voice I felt he was threatening Fred. And ever since he left, Fred’s been jumpy. You’re right, he is scared. That’s why he wouldn’t sign the paper.’
It was my turn to think for a while. ‘Mrs Hyde,’ I began. ‘We’ve already found a fossil on your farm—a very important one. If we don’t get it out of the rock soon, we never will. They’ll be filling the dam soon and it’ll get flooded. We really do need that permission slip signed.’
‘I’ll sign it,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m a joint owner, so my signature is as good as his.’
‘Great,’ I said holding out the paper and a pen.
I’d already filled in the names and details of the property, using information that Grandad had supplied. All she had to do was sign. She held it against a wall and wrote her signature with a flourish.
I let out a sigh of relief. As she handed it back she asked, ‘Where is the fossil?’
‘Please don’t tell anybody, but it’s in the canyon.’
‘Oh!’ she said raising her hand to her mouth. ‘Then I can’t give you permission to go there.’
‘Why not?’ I asked; my heart was sinking again.
‘We don’t own it anymore. We sold all of the river land to the electricity company. That’s how we could afford to come here. They own all of the land that will be flooded.’
I suppose I should have thought of that.
‘But I don’t think they’ll mind,’ she added, smiling. ‘After all, it’ll be a lake soon. Why should they care?’
‘I won’t tell them, Mrs Hyde, if you don’t.’
She winked at me. ‘Mum’s the word, eh!’
‘Yes. And it might be best if you don’t tell anybody about my visit. Especially Mr and Mrs Williams. Their sons might cause more trouble.’
‘Oh, don’t you worry,’ she replied, firmly. ‘I won’t be talking to them ever again. And I certainly won’t be talking to their mongrel sons.’
Good, I thought as we said our goodbyes, and I hope I never have to either.
Chapter 14
It rained again Friday night, and, while it was not as heavy as the previous lot, I still worried about the dam filling. The rain hadn’t stopped when, at eight o’clock sharp on Saturday morning, Karen Marshall pulled up in front of our place in her dirt-splattered SUV.
I introduced Dad to Karen, and vice versa. They’d spoken on the phone, so they weren’t exactly strangers. I couldn’t help but notice Dad’s shyness when he shook hands, and I wondered if this was why he’d never found another partner.
The trip passed quickly, with Karen telling us stories from her life as a curator. She’d worked in a university geology department for several years after getting her doctorate. It was then that she did a lot of field work in out-of-the-wa
y places. Later she’d moved to Te Papa where she’d worked on the presentation of exhibits. She had stories about famous people she’d met, and paintings worth millions of dollars that she’d handled. For the past three years she’d been working in Napier and was hoping, eventually, to move up to being the Head Curator.
Mits and I might as well not have been in the car. Karen was talking to Dad, not us. Only occasionally would she speak to us via the rear-view mirror. We were also ignored by Dad. He had his body turned so that he could watch her driving and talking. I had the feeling that something was happening between them that I wasn’t quite reading.
After Gentle Annie, we turned down the road to the dam site. Things had certainly changed. There was now a small lake backing up from the dam. The diversion tunnel was covered in water, so we figured that it must’ve been closed. The river above the lake was carrying much more water than before.
It was still raining when we got to Pounamu. We had planned to go straight to the canyon, but decided to call into Nanna and Grandad’s to wait and see if the rain would stop.
Dad seemed embarrassed as he introduced Karen. I saw a slight smile form on Nanna’s face as she looked at the two—I’m sure she was seeing something of what I’d noticed in the car. The two women greeted each other warmly. Then after Grandad had shaken Karen’s hand, he turned and took Dad’s. There was no mistaking Dad’s surprise and mine, too—I’d never seen them shake hands before.
We were invited to stay for lunch and, even though we had food in the car, the offer was accepted. That lunch was the first time I could remember Dad and me ever eating together with my grandparents. It was like the sort of family meal I enjoyed at the Smithsons. The conversation was easy, there was lots of laughter, and everyone was involved. In a way I was disappointed when it stopped raining and we had to leave.
There were no vehicles outside Fred and Sarah’s old house. In fact nothing to show that it was inhabited. We drove on past.