Dry Bones: A Walt Longmire Mystery Read Online Free Page A

a deal with the landowner.” He pointed toward the backhoe. “Just to make sure that exactly this type of thing didn’t happen.” He paused for a moment and pointedly sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?”
    Vic threw a chin toward me. “Oh, the sheriff here got pissed on.”
    It was about then that a round from some sort of small arms fire caromed off the cab, leaving a narrow but nasty gash on the windshield, and Dave ducked. “My God, they’re shooting at us again!”
    I stared at the groove as Omar yelled back over his shoulder, “Ballistic armor glass.”
    He hit the gas and barreled down the makeshift two-track toward the roadblock as I turned back to Dave. “They shot at you before?”
    “You’re damn right they did!”
    Another ricochet and Omar fishtailed to the side and gunned it again, in hopes that if we made it closer to the parked vehicles the shooter might be less inclined to fire. We stopped in front of the two flatbeds.
    Vic drew her Glock, but I held out a hand, rose up, and got out the other side, just as an Indian cowboy charged up the hillside to slap what looked to be a bolt-action.22 from the hands of a teenage boy.
    I walked around both trucks with my hands raised, quickly covering the twenty yards between us. “All right, I’m not sure whose property we’re on, but we need to stop the shooting right now.”
    With one last, hard look toward the kid, the Indian cowboy turned as another, older man in a black flat-brim hat joined him. “Sorry about that, Sheriff . . .”
    The teenager interrupted. “You told me to stand guard and not let anybody in!”
    The Indian cowboy picked up the rifle and threw it to the older man with the black hat as Vic and Dave joined us. “I didn’t mean for you to shoot the sheriff.”
    “What’s going on here?”
    He smiled a wide grin. “Protecting our investments.” He slapped the teen in the back of the head, knocking off his straw hat, and gestured toward Dave. “You can shoot Dave if you want to . . .” The kid actually reached for the rifle on the older man’s shoulder. “Leave your uncle alone; I was kidding.” He then threw the bearded paleontologist a glance. “Kind of.”
    I looked at where the bucket of the big CASE backhoe was scraping away the side of the hill. “You need to stop excavating. Dave here says that you’re going to do irreparable damage to the dig.”
    The Indian cowboy lifted a hand and whipped off his own hat, raising it in a wide wave, his dark hair swooping around his head like a flight of crows. The sound of the heavy equipment halted almost immediately. He turned back to look at us, his perfect teeth contrasting with the tan skin of his handsome face as he extended his hand. “Randy Lone Elk, Sheriff. I don’t think we’ve met.” He gestured toward the older man holding the rifle. “This is my Uncle Enic.” He lip-pointed toward the teenager. “And the All-American sniper here is Taylor, my nephew.”
    I shook the hand and gestured toward Baumann. “Dave here is concerned about the integrity of his site.”
    “His
site, huh?” He continued grinning. “Then he doesn’t know exactly where
his
site is.” He spread his arms and half turned, exemplifying the open country. “We are trying to draw some attention, and I guess it worked.” He gestured toward Dave. “These guys are attempting to get this fossil out of here before anybody could find out, but we’re renegotiating the deal.” He looked at me and then at Omar’s vehicle. “What the hell is that thing, anyway?”
    I ignored the question. “Dave here tells me that you’ve been compensated to the tune of thirty-seven thousand dollars on this dig.”
    Randy Lone Elk pointed a finger at Baumann’s chest. “That’s bullshit, and even if it wasn’t, thirty-seven thousand dollars is a joke, if not an insult.”
    The paleontologist spoke up. “It’s a fair price for what we’ve uncovered so far, more than anyone has ever been