The Dinosaur Hunter(91)

“I’m glad it did, Jeanette,” I said.

Since I didn’t want to talk about that, I stood up and took a step down the hill, stopping when I heard her giggle. It was a giggle that turned into a laugh. In fact, she started laughing so hard there were tears curling through the encrusted dirt on her face.

She looked at me looking back at her in shock. “Oh, Mike, I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her filthy hand. “But kissing me with that cow shit on my face…every time I think about it, I can’t help but laugh.”

“Well,” I said, “I guess I can’t be too mad. I’m always saying you don’t laugh enough.”

She chuckled a few more times, then her smile faded. “I never loved Bill Coulter,” she said, “but I respected him. I decided early on to become the woman he deserved.” Her eyes turned soft. “He never loved me, either, but he knew he’d found a woman who could help him build the Square C into a profitable, modern enterprise. When we had Ray, we knew we had a partnership that only death would end. Still, I confess sometimes I missed being loved. Until you said it, Mike, no man ever told me he loved me. I’m sorry it happened on the day it did. You should have told me earlier.”

“What was the point?” I asked, my voice small even in my ears.

She pondered my question. “Maybe it’s this heat or maybe because I’m so tired or maybe it’s because I’ve been listening to the crazy things Pick says but here’s what just popped into my mind. Could it be that everything that’s happened, from the moment Pick arrived, was so you’d have to tell me you loved me? Does that make sense to you?”

“No,” I said. Then, after a moment of reflection, I said, “That would be something, wouldn’t it?”

“A domino falls so that all the other dominoes fall, too. But there are dominoes we can’t even see. All leading to love.”

“I wouldn’t try to float that one at the next Cattleman’s Association meeting, Jeanette.”

She nodded. “Anyway, Mike, thank you.”

A man expressing love to a woman who replies with an expression of gratitude is not going to be happy. That was me at that moment. Although I knew she was through with me, I had another thing to say. “What would you think if I had someone move into my trailer?”

The surprise on her face was palpable. “Tanya?” she asked.

“Yes. If she wants to. I don’t know that she does.”

“I don’t think that would be a good example for Ray.”

“You’re right,” I admitted. “Maybe I can get a place in town.”

“That would be a long drive and I wouldn’t have you to help me at night.” She gave it some more thought, then said, “Have you considered marrying the girl?”

“Not really.”

“I think…” She gave herself a moment, then said, “I think you need to discover how you feel about Tanya before you take the next step, Mike. When you know that, we can talk.”

“Fine,” I said and walked down the hill.





29




The next morning, the mayor of Jericho arrived, wearing a wide-brimmed hat, jeans, shirt, and field boots. Edith walked among the tombstone-jacketed bones, having herself a good look, then climbed the hill. There she found us tunneling into the embankment. No one greeted her. We were too busy. She watched silently while Ray and I shoveled and picked. Behind us, Tanya crept forward on her hands and knees, sifting through the disturbed matrix to find any little bones that might be hiding there. Occasionally, I would catch Tanya’s eye and she would smile and I would smile and then we’d go right back to work. Above us, Laura, Jeanette, Brian, and Philip were removing another layer of sandstone. Jeanette finally took note of Edith and walked over to her while the rest us of took a break. At Jeanette’s greeting, Edith said, “Ted’s sick so he asked me to come out and represent the BLM. My purpose is to observe, not to interfere.”

Jeanette said, “This is Square C land, not BLM.”

“Yes, of course,” Edith answered. “But Ted says until the survey is done and the map is updated, the BLM boundary is unclear. I have to support my husband on this, Jeanette.”

Jeanette, ever agreeable, replied, “Get off my property, Edith.”

Edith didn’t budge. “The old BLM line is right over there. If I went there, I could still see what you’re doing.”

Jeanette absorbed that, then waved her hand. “Be my guest.”

“Please be reasonable,” Edith said. “Ted’s very sick but he has a job to do. I promised him I would do it.” Her eyes sought me out. “If you’ll let me stay, I’ll help you dig. Would that be all right, Mike?”