Dragons Teeth Crichton 2017 (WWT)

“Bones,” Johnson said, realizing the warm food had given him some strength.
“You mean, animal bones?”
“That’s right.”
“You making soup?”
Johnson didn’t appreciate the joke. “These are valuable to me.”
Perkins said he didn’t think that anyone in Deadwood would be interested in stealing his bones.
Johnson said he had gone through hell and back for these bones, and he had two dead bodies in his
wagon to prove it, and he wasn’t taking any chances. Could he please store his bones in the
storeroom?
“How much space you need? It ain’t a barn.”
“I got ten wood boxes of bones and then some other supplies.”
“Well, let’s see them.”
Perkins followed Johnson back out onto the street, looked in the wagon, and nodded. While
Johnson started moving crates, Perkins inspected the snow-covered bodies. He brushed the snow
away.
“This one’s an Indian.”
“That’s right.”
Perkins squinted at Johnson. “How long you had these two with you?”
“One’s been dead almost a week. The Indian died yesterday.”
Perkins scratched his chin. He asked, “You thinking of burying your friend?”
“Now I’ve got him away from the Sioux, I guess I will.”
“There’s a graveyard at the north end of town. What about the Indian?”
“I’ll bury him, too.”
“Not in the graveyard.”
“He’s a Snake.”
“Good for him,” Perkins said. “We don’t have no problem with Snakes that is alive, but you can’t
bury any Indian in the graveyard.”
“Why not?”
“Town won’t stand for it.”
Johnson glanced at the unpainted wood buildings. The town didn’t seem to have been there long
enough to have formed a civic opinion on any subject, but he simply asked why not.
“He’s a heathen.”
“He’s a Snake, and I didn’t bury him for the same reason I didn’t bury the white man. If the Sioux
found the grave, they’d dig him up and mutilate him. This Indian led me to safety. I owe him a decent
burial.”
“That’s fine, you do what you want with him,” Perkins said, “long as you don’t bury him in the
graveyard. You don’t want to cause trouble. Not in Deadwood.”
Johnson was too tired to argue. He carried the crates of fossils inside, stacking them to take up as
little space as possible, and made sure Perkins locked the room after he exited. Then he asked the
proprietor to arrange for his bath, and went off to bury the bodies.
It took a long time to dig the hole for Toad in the graveyard at the end of town. He had to use a pick
before shoveling out the rocky earth. He dragged Toad out of the wagon and into the grave, which
didn’t look comfortable, even for a dead man. “I’m sorry, Toad,” he said aloud. “I’ll tell your family
when I get the chance.”
When the first shovel of earth landed on Toad’s face, Johnson stopped. I’m not who I used to be,