The Dinosaur Hunter(25)
“I’m not familiar with Yosemite University,” I said.
“It’s up north,” Pick replied. “Near Oregon.”
“Is it part of the University of California system?”
“Affiliated.”
“I thought you said you were from UC Berkeley.”
He shrugged. “I was kind of blowing smoke. It sounds better than Yosemite. But I did graduate from Berkeley.”
I handed the document back. “OK, thanks.”
“Is that all?” he asked, looking surprised.
“That’s all.”
I looked into Pick’s eyes and saw relief. I remembered teaching a rookie cop one time a very important lesson of interrogation: Tell a guilty man you’re through with your questions and you’ll see relief in his eyes. Every time. He just can’t hide it.
9
Shortly after Pick and I got back to the dig site, Montana did its thing. Even though we were into June, the weather blew up cold and started pouring rain, which then proceeded to turn into sleet. Jeanette and Amelia jumped on her four-wheeler and got the heck out of there before they got stuck in the gumbo. Ray and I hoofed it back to the tractor, then drove back to the barn. The last I saw of the three paleontologists was Pick sitting in the girls’ truck, safe and dry, while Laura and Tanya were putting up a tent. My guess it was Pick’s.
The skies stayed a sullen gray for the next two days and even spat a little snow. We didn’t hear a word from Pick and his ladies and we assumed they were hunkered down. Jeanette used the time to pay some bills and ordered me inside to help her. She had an old computer with some accounting software on it, which was hooked to a cranky printer. Of course, I knew the drill. Since Jeanette had never really learned to type, she wanted me to key the receipts and bills into the computer while she sat at the kitchen table and read them out. She also wanted me to listen while she griped about every one of the expenses. We were both very good at these jobs.
I was always astonished at the amount of money required to keep the Square C operating. Electricity, maintenance and repair of the equipment, medicine for the cows, fencing, fuel, insurance, feed—it all added up. The last thing a rancher ever spends money on is himself and I was pretty sure Jeanette had not bought herself any new clothes since Bill had died. Ray got some for school, of course, mainly because he outgrew what he had.
About halfway through the receipts, I remembered I’d forgotten to tell Jeanette something. “Pick showed me his permission to be on the BLM. Ted Brescoe signed it. It said he’s from Yosemite University in California, which, according to him, is in northern California near the Oregon border. I never heard of it.”
She peered over her half-glasses at me. “Sounds like you don’t believe him.”
“I don’t know why he’d lie about it,” I replied.
She tapped her pencil on the table. “What are you thinking?”
I shrugged. “I’m not thinking anything, Jeanette. I’m just telling you what I found out.”
Jeanette pondered a bit more, then said, “I like that fellow but I’m not sure why.”
“Some men just need a mother, I guess,” I said.
Jeanette looked at me, then said, “Maybe that’s it.”
We went back to work.
On the night before our branding day, the temperatures dropped into the 30s and I half expected it to start sleeting again but then the sun came booming up and it turned into a pretty day. To get the calves in the branding pen, it was necessary to also bring in their moms. Ray, Soupy, and I went out and gathered in the first bunch of pairs. Amelia and Buddy, her dad, were there to help. Then along came Cade Morgan, looking a bit lost, driving up in his Mercedes. Then, Pick, Laura, and Tanya came trundling in from the direction of the BLM. We were going to have quite the eclectic crew.
Ray and I got off our horses and he went over to have a word with Amelia and her dad. I was curious as to why Cade Morgan was there so I walked up to him and held out my hand. Cade was wearing crisp, clean jeans, a white shirt, expensive running shoes, and a straw hat. Bill Coulter always said never hire a man with a straw hat because he’d spend all day chasing it.
We shook hands and I asked, “You come to help us brand, Cade?”
The Californian gave me a two-hundred-watt grin, the kind a man gives you when he’s after your wallet or your girl. “I just came to watch,” he said, then added before I made a comment, “Jeanette said it was OK.”
I was in the mood to give Mr. Cade Morgan a little bit of a third degree. “Have you seen anything strange out your way?” I asked. “People you’ve never seen on the road or trucks, four-wheelers, anything?”