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time—and all he cared about was getting Montague’s prize.
Temple pulled his hat low over his forehead and stared out the back of the wagon. The day wore on while he watched the Devil’s Spur grow in size. By afternoon the sides of the canyon were at least thirty feet deep and the middle of the cut was flat and wide enough to set up camp in.
The slice in the earth must have been caused bysome cataclysmic event aeons past. In the long deep trough grew bitterroot, and small shrubs. On either side of the flat expanse in the middle, the earth rose in great striated walls. The afternoon shadows made the impressive rent look somewhat ominous.
Constance was excited and eager to begin digging. The ribbons of color reminded her of a child’s lollipop. She rose from the wagon seat and allowed her eyes to sweep over the primal landscape.
She had discarded the netting earlier since there were few biting insects. The cold spring breeze fluttered over her bare cheeks while her mind raced ahead, plotting the most logical location of bones.
“It is truly remarkable, Mr. Hughes,” she said.
“Yep.” Peter stared at the deep gash. “This is on the Flying B Ranch but you are a long way from the house. Lake Nowhere is just over that rise.”
“Lake Nowhere?” Constance frowned. “What a strange name.”
Peter shrugged. “You are in the middle of nowhere, miss. Like I said, the owner of the Flying B has some mines near here and they do fish in the lake from time to time, but other than a few cowboys checking for strays or taking supplies to the mine, people tend to shy away from this section of the badlands.”
“What do they mine?” Constance was truly interested in this otherworldly landscape.
“Manganese—lead. There used to be some gold but I think the veins have played out.”
“This is a wonderful opportunity to document and catalog the area.” Constance sat down. “I will be spending the first few weeks I am here sketching the terrain.”
“Sketching?” Temple sat bolt upright so fast heraked his ribs on a trunk latch. It smarted almost as much as his pride. He had sworn he would not be drawn into a conversation with Connie, but her ridiculous words could not go by unquestioned. “You are planning to sketch?” The question tumbled out of his mouth while he managed to stand up.
“Yes. I have been responsible for the sketches of all Papa’s expeditions. I see no reason why I should not treat this dig like all the others.” She frowned up at Temple. “Is there some reason why you find it so unusual?” She felt herself growing more defensive as he stared at her with wide eyes.
He shook his head and laughed. “Connie, you sketch as much as you want. I am grabbing a shovel and finding those bones as soon as camp is set up. While I’m headed back to New York you can do all the pretty watercolors you like.” He vaulted over the side of the wagon and walked away chuckling. “I’ll think of you when I accept Mr. Montague’s check.”
“You are very sure of yourself, Temple.” Constance stood up and hitched up her skirt so she could step onto the’ big wheel of the wagon. She perched there for a moment while she watched the man who continued to patronize and belittle her at every turn.
“I have good reason to be sure of myself.” He paused long enough to spear her with a glance. “I have worked hard—and enjoyed some degree of success over the past ten years. This dig is no different. I intend to get the bones and be out of here before you are even settled in.” He turned his back on her and started to walk away.
She hopped down to the ground with a swish of the heavy material. “Then by all means don’t let me detainyou.” She shouted at his wide back. “Which side of the gorge do you wish to set your camp on?”
Temple lurched to a stop. He turned to Constance with a blank expression on his face. His hat was shoved back on his head, tawny hair jutting from under the brim. He squinted
Temple pulled his hat low over his forehead and stared out the back of the wagon. The day wore on while he watched the Devil’s Spur grow in size. By afternoon the sides of the canyon were at least thirty feet deep and the middle of the cut was flat and wide enough to set up camp in.
The slice in the earth must have been caused bysome cataclysmic event aeons past. In the long deep trough grew bitterroot, and small shrubs. On either side of the flat expanse in the middle, the earth rose in great striated walls. The afternoon shadows made the impressive rent look somewhat ominous.
Constance was excited and eager to begin digging. The ribbons of color reminded her of a child’s lollipop. She rose from the wagon seat and allowed her eyes to sweep over the primal landscape.
She had discarded the netting earlier since there were few biting insects. The cold spring breeze fluttered over her bare cheeks while her mind raced ahead, plotting the most logical location of bones.
“It is truly remarkable, Mr. Hughes,” she said.
“Yep.” Peter stared at the deep gash. “This is on the Flying B Ranch but you are a long way from the house. Lake Nowhere is just over that rise.”
“Lake Nowhere?” Constance frowned. “What a strange name.”
Peter shrugged. “You are in the middle of nowhere, miss. Like I said, the owner of the Flying B has some mines near here and they do fish in the lake from time to time, but other than a few cowboys checking for strays or taking supplies to the mine, people tend to shy away from this section of the badlands.”
“What do they mine?” Constance was truly interested in this otherworldly landscape.
“Manganese—lead. There used to be some gold but I think the veins have played out.”
“This is a wonderful opportunity to document and catalog the area.” Constance sat down. “I will be spending the first few weeks I am here sketching the terrain.”
“Sketching?” Temple sat bolt upright so fast heraked his ribs on a trunk latch. It smarted almost as much as his pride. He had sworn he would not be drawn into a conversation with Connie, but her ridiculous words could not go by unquestioned. “You are planning to sketch?” The question tumbled out of his mouth while he managed to stand up.
“Yes. I have been responsible for the sketches of all Papa’s expeditions. I see no reason why I should not treat this dig like all the others.” She frowned up at Temple. “Is there some reason why you find it so unusual?” She felt herself growing more defensive as he stared at her with wide eyes.
He shook his head and laughed. “Connie, you sketch as much as you want. I am grabbing a shovel and finding those bones as soon as camp is set up. While I’m headed back to New York you can do all the pretty watercolors you like.” He vaulted over the side of the wagon and walked away chuckling. “I’ll think of you when I accept Mr. Montague’s check.”
“You are very sure of yourself, Temple.” Constance stood up and hitched up her skirt so she could step onto the’ big wheel of the wagon. She perched there for a moment while she watched the man who continued to patronize and belittle her at every turn.
“I have good reason to be sure of myself.” He paused long enough to spear her with a glance. “I have worked hard—and enjoyed some degree of success over the past ten years. This dig is no different. I intend to get the bones and be out of here before you are even settled in.” He turned his back on her and started to walk away.
She hopped down to the ground with a swish of the heavy material. “Then by all means don’t let me detainyou.” She shouted at his wide back. “Which side of the gorge do you wish to set your camp on?”
Temple lurched to a stop. He turned to Constance with a blank expression on his face. His hat was shoved back on his head, tawny hair jutting from under the brim. He squinted
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