“Then what do you suggest?” Jeanette asked.
Pick took a deep breath. “Look, I’m not sure what’s here. I only have my suspicions. For all I know, there’s only the bones showing now. Can’t you wait until we uncover more before we worry about what to do with them? I promise you this. I’ll keep you apprised every step of the way and not remove a single bone without your approval.”
Jeanette took off her hat and tapped it against her leg. “I am a sequential thinker, Dr. Pickford. I see a great deal of work ahead that will result in plastered bones coming down my hill. I see those plastered bones stacking up. Then I see them going somewhere, perhaps when I don’t know it, but where would that be?”
“I will need them to go a lab where I can study them properly.”
“Where? Yosemite University?”
“Probably not,” Pick said. “It doesn’t have the facilities I need.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t,” Jeanette said, tapping her hat harder against her leg, “since it doesn’t exist. I checked.”
“It exists wherever I am,” Pick said. “I am Yosemite University.”
“It’s a scam, Dr. Pickford, as I suspect you are.”
Pick pursed his lips, then said, “Not a scam. A cover. I have a wide academic background but I can’t really tie myself down to only one institution.”
“When you first came on my ranch, you told me you were from UC-Berkeley.”
“I got my doctorate there.”
“That’s not what you said. You said you were from there, meaning implicitly that you worked there. And then Mike saw your BLM permit and it had on it this mythical Yosemite University.”
Pick took a moment to gather himself, then said, “I already explained that to Mike. Didn’t he tell you? Anyway, I’m sorry about that. Sometimes, it’s easier to kind of talk in a shorthand way, rather than try to explain everything.”
“In other words, sometimes it’s easier to lie,” Jeanette said.
Pick shrugged.
“So,” Jeanette went on, “who do you work for, Dr. Pickford?”
“I work for myself,” he said.
“So,” Jeanette said again, “who do you work for, Dr. Pickford?”
Pick frowned, perhaps thinking Jeanette hadn’t heard or misunderstood the answer he’d already given, but then the light came on. “I suppose I work for you.”
“That’s right. Anyone who works on the Square C works for me. Anything recovered off the Square C belongs to me. Nothing will be removed from this ranch without my approval. Do we understand one another?”
Pick absorbed that, then said, “Yes, as long as you understand my position. I am here for science, not profit.”
“I think we can both get what we want,” Jeanette said and put her hat on. “Dr. Pickford, you may proceed. How long do you think it will take to excavate the site?”
“The rest of the summer, I think,” Pick said.
“Then let’s get on with it.”
“Since you’ve offered, I need a few things,” Pick said. “Jackhammers, a supply of water for plaster, food and drink for our crew, about a dozen chisels, picks, shovels, pry bars, and ice picks. Also a variety of paint brushes and brooms. I can make up a complete list for you if you like.”
Jeanette gave Pick a hard stare, then said, “Give me your list. I’ll see what I can do.”
“I need the jackhammers right away,” Pick said.
“All right, Dr. Pickford,” Jeanette replied testily, then put forth her hand. “Let’s make an agreement. Shake.”
Pick grasped her hand. “What are we agreeing to?” he asked.
“We’re agreeing to a ten to ninety percent split to any proceeds made from this enterprise,” Jeanette said. “My hand is my bond.”
“Well…” Pick released his hand. “Who gets the ten percent?”
Jeanette chuckled. “You do, Dr. Pickford.”
“That doesn’t sound very fair,” he said.
Jeanette was still smiling. “I’ve done my research. The courts have always sided with the property owner on fossil disputes. So it’s my call what you get. I might increase it if I think you’ve done a good job. I’m not one for signing contracts and getting lawyers involved so you’re just going to have to trust me as I’ve decided, against my better judgment, to trust you. We’ll work it out but, for now, you will be rewarded one dollar out of every ten if you can successfully dig up and guide me to the proper marketing of these creatures. Deal?”
“I’m a scientist, not a marketer!” Pick sputtered, but then hung his head, recognizing finally that our boss had him well over her barrel. He allowed a sigh, then said, “All right, Mrs. Coulter. It seems I have no choice on any of this. We have a deal. Please don’t forget my jackhammers and the other things on the list I will provide before you leave.”