He’d gotten too lazy. Too comfortable. And that couldn’t be allowed.
After all these years, the people she surrounded herself with were loyal. Obedient. Willing to do whatever she asked, as though their lives depended on it.
Which they did.
And it didn’t hurt that she compensated them well for their devotion.
Why this idiot decided to diverge from the plan was almost beyond her comprehension.
No matter. She lifted her chin. Every time she gazed into the mirror, she marveled at her gifts. She might not be young by the world’s standards, not that anyone knew her actual lifespan in years. But anyone who looked at her saw her beauty. Her strength. Her resolve. Her independence.
She’d been complimented for them time and again.
Those words of affirmation would continue because people always saw what they wanted to see. And over the years she had perfected the art of pulling the wool over people’s eyes.
Now if she could keep the occasional fool from messing up her carefully laid plans, everything would be perfect.
At least she’d found out before he threatened to unravel it all. She’d simply have to find another spy.
As much as she abhorred getting her hands dirty, sometimesshe had to take care of things herself. She allowed a smile. Sometimes she liked to.
She kicked her horse into a gallop and tugged her hat down low over her brow.
The rope behind her grew taut as it dragged the weight of the useless man. After a few miles, she called out, “Whoa.”
Her trusted mare slowed and whinnied.
The woman jumped down, untied the man, and slipped his cowboy boot off his right foot. The rope had rubbed a light imprint into the leather. It wouldn’t do to be sloppy. She hated sloppiness.
With careful movements, she extracted a single white glove from her bag and laid it on his chest. Then she wound up her rope. No sense in wasting good rope on a dead man. Once it was secure on her horse, she mounted it once again and headed back. Let the buzzards and coyotes have him. He wasn’t going anywhere.
With a sigh, she stared at the snow-covered peaks in the distance.
Another distasteful—yet oddly satisfying—task was finished. With enough time to get cleaned up for dinner.
Four
“Be awake for time is passing
And there’s endless work to do
Thou shalt fail but never falter
Every day begins anew.”
~Earl Douglass
WEDNESDAY, APRIL10, 1889•JANKOWSKIDIGSITE
Hands on her hips, Martha surveyed her site from the ridge above. Resting against the curve of a large boulder, she studied the massive skeleton emerging from the dust of the earth. For more than two years, she’d worked these rocks, this packed dirt. With a few trusted and experienced workers at the start. Now her team had ten men and would grow to accommodate the scale of the dig. It had cost her a great deal of money, but each man signed confidentiality contracts and pledged their loyalty. In the end, it would be well worth the investment. And hopefully help her win the competition.
Movement in the northeast quadrant caught her attention. A small group of men gathered around the right rib cage. Those bones would have to come out first. Though they werelarge, they were still delicate and would need the gentle touch of her most experienced crew. A few feet back from them, a larger group stood, ready with wheelbarrows and shovels to clear the rubble out of the way.
They were waiting for her. But the enormity of the moment was too much. She’d called for a break to gather her emotions and fled to this spot. Her sanctuary. The red dirt path was worn to a packed smoothness by countless hours of pacing. Tufts of sagebrush dotted the landscape. Purple and white columbine flowers brought bursts of color to the canvas of green and tan. The beauty of her home never ceased to inspire her. She did her best thinking up here, where the wind teased her hair, the sun warmed her skin, and the sky kissed the great jutting rocks and mesas shadowing the quarry.
But there was no need to think or pace now. Today was a joyful day. Everything was in place to begin the full excavation of theApatosaurusskeleton. Her dreams were within her grasp. But above that, she could go back to her parents with her head held high. Their investment had not been in vain. She’d proved them wrong. Just like she’d told them she would. The memory was bittersweet as it replayed in her mind.
“Martha, my dear, this is outlandish.” Her mother’s eyebrows had arched high above her bright blue eyes. She brought her teacup to her lips then paused. “Though Denver is not quite the height of polite society as New York, you must know the irregularity of it will be talked about.”
