Dragons Teeth Crichton 2017 (WWT)

“I doubt that follows,” Sternberg said soberly. “Marsh has nothing if not money, and his students
are not with him. He is probably paying his bone hunters to dig for him simultaneously in three or four
territories, even as we speak.”
Sternberg had done some work for Marsh several years before, in Kansas. He was undoubtedly
right, and Cope stopped smiling.
“Speaking of finds,” Cookie said, “how did he find us?”
“Little Wind said that these are the same men that were following us back at Dog Creek.”
Isaac leapt up. “See? I told you we were being followed!”
“Sit down, J.C.,” Cope said. He was frowning now, his good humor vanished.
“What are they doing here, anyway?” Cookie said. “They’re not on the square. They’re gonna kill
us and take the bones.”
“They’re not going to kill us,” Cope said.
“Well then, take the bones, for sure.”
“They wouldn’t dare. Even Marsh wouldn’t dare.”
But in the darkness of the plains, he sounded unconvinced. There was a silence. They listened to
the moan of the night wind.
“They poisoned the water,” Johnson said.
“Yes,” Cope said. “They did.”
“I wouldn’t call that neighborly,” Cookie said.
“True . . .”
“You’ve made some important discoveries, Professor. Discoveries any scientist’d give his left arm
to claim as his own.”
“True.”
There was another long silence.
“We surely are a long way from home, out here,” Isaac said. “If something happened to us, who’d
be the wiser? They’d just blame the Indians if we never showed back in Fort Benton.”
“They blame Indians.” Little Wind nodded.
“Quite true.”
“Better do something about them,” Isaac said.
“You’re right,” Cope said finally. He stared at the campfire. “We will do something. We will invite
them to dinner tomorrow night.”