As they broke up to go back to their tents, Nora turned to Clive. “What the hell’s gotten into you?” she asked in a low voice. “Riling up Peel the way you did? You think that’s going to help?”

“I can’t stand these sanctimonious religious types, dictating to scientists what they can and can’t do.”

“Sanctimonious,” said Nora angrily. “That’s rich, coming from you—and Voltaire. Well, you can pat yourself on the back for standing up for science—and royally screwing up in the process.”

25

May 12

NORA AWOKE WELL before dawn to hear Burleson talking in a raised voice to Wiggett. From the tone, she knew immediately something was wrong. She dragged herself from her sleeping bag, dressed, and went outside. The breakfast fire was just lit and Maggie was working on a Dutch oven full of biscuit dough. Clive and her two assistants had yet to emerge from their tents.

“What’s going on?” Nora asked.

“Peel’s gone,” Burleson said. “Packed and left during the night. Seems like he quit.”

“I can’t say I’m all that surprised,” said Nora.

“I’ll bring another horse wrangler up from the ranch. No worries about that. It’s just a goddamned annoyance. Peel was a fine wrangler—too bad he got so self-righteous and worked up.”

The party gradually assembled around the fire, and they ate breakfast as the sun broke over the trees and a cloudless day dawned. A good day to work, Nora thought. With the excavation of the midden heap nearing completion, they could move on to opening up the shelter and hearth area of the camp. There would undoubtedly be a concentration of artifacts and bone fragments there, a mother lode of sorts.

She and Clive filled their day packs with lunch, water, and a few tools, then set off with Adelsky and Salazar. The usual ravens followed them as they hiked, cawing their displeasure. When they arrived, the valley was still in shadow, a cold mist rising in tendrils from its grassy floor.

Suddenly Clive’s voice broke through the cawing. “What the hell?” he burst out.

They had just rounded a bend, bringing the meadow into sight. Even from this distance, Nora could see that several of the tarps had been pulled aside and were lying loose.

They broke into a jog. The tarps covering the midden were askew, the pegs pulled up. For a moment, Nora thought the previous evening’s thunderstorm might have done the damage—but then she noticed fresh hoof marks and boot prints around the muddy site.

“A horse has been up here,” she said. “Walking all over the damn place.”

“We’ve been robbed!” Clive cried out as they reached the edge of the midden, now exposed to the elements.

Nora stared in dismay. The midden had been badly disturbed. All three skulls they’d found were missing, as well as several of the larger bones and bone fragments—literally ripped out of the ground. Boot prints could be seen everywhere.

Nora looked around wildly. Down by the stream, the tarp that covered Carville’s body was also askew.

“Oh, no.” She rushed down with Clive and the others. The little skeleton was gone—every last bone picked cleanly out of the earth.

“Peel,” said Clive. “That son of a bitch did this.”

“He must have taken them for reburial,” Nora said.

She glanced over at the shocked faces of Adelsky and Salazar. This was an almost unthinkable development. A stain on her professionalism, a scandal for the Institute—and, potentially, a flat-out archaeological disaster.

“The strongbox,” Clive said. “I wonder if he took that, too.” He jogged off to the HQ tent while Nora continued to assess the damage. The area with Reinhardt and Spitzer hadn’t been touched, at least, its tarp still pegged down. But quite a few of the more intact bones were missing from the midden, and—almost as bad—the site had been seriously contaminated.

Clive emerged from the tent. “The gold’s still there.”

Nora turned to her assistants. “Jason, Bruce, please rephotograph the entire site, and document the boot and hoofprints as well—then stabilize and tarp down everything as best you can. Clive and I will go back to camp and report this.”

As they walked down the trail, Clive asked: “What next?”

“What next? Next we call the Forest Service and report the theft. And then…I’ll have to call the Institute.”

Clive was silent for a moment before speaking again. “I agree you have to call the Institute. But don’t you think it’s a little premature to call in the authorities?”

“Why?”

“You spelled it out yesterday. As soon as you report it, that Agent Swanson is going to be back up here, all hot and bothered. And maybe shut us down.”

Nora cursed under her breath, recalling that Parkin’s skull was among the three taken. “But how can we avoid reporting it?”

“It’s likely the value of those stolen bones is under a thousand dollars, which would make stealing them a misdemeanor.”

“Less than a thousand dollars?” Nora said. “Those relics are priceless.”

“To you and me, yes. Not so much to the local police. Most likely, this would be viewed as a misdemeanor violation of the National Historic Preservation Act of 1966.”

“What about the Antiquities Act?”

“Look, Nora, let’s not go off half-cocked. Let’s see what Burleson says. Maybe Peel hasn’t gone far. Maybe he’s going to show up in town and turn the bones in to some priest or something.”

Nora sighed. “Okay. Good point. Let’s see what Burleson has to say before we decide anything.”

* * *

Back at camp, Burleson was beside himself with fury when he heard about the desecration and looting. The lanky man stomped around, letting fly a string of curses that shocked even Nora. He turned and collared Wiggett. “Saddle our horses. We’re going after Peel. Catch that damn-fool son of a bitch and get your bones back. I mean, it’s not like the sheriff would get off his fat ass for something like this.”

Nora exchanged a look with Clive.

Burleson took a deep breath, calming down. “What do you think Peel’s going to do with those bones? He’s not going to sell them, and he’s not going to destroy them. I’ll call my staff at Red Mountain Ranch. They’ll talk to the local clergy, stake out Peel’s house, watch the trail exit, maybe the nearby cemeteries—there’s only two of those, after all. We’ll get your bones back. Give me forty-eight hours and then, if we haven’t resolved this, we’ll call in the cavalry.”

“Thank you,” Nora said.

“I apologize again for Peel’s behavior. Meanwhile, let’s keep the specifics—his looting of the bones, I mean—between us. No point in agitating Maggie and Drew more than they already are.”

Nora nodded.

“One thing you can be sure of: Peel is taking tender care of those artifacts.”

Nora hoped Burleson was right, and that Peel and his stolen loot would be back in short order. She let him get on the satellite phone and notify his people at the ranch. Then she and Clive watched as the man saddled up and rode off with the assistant wrangler.