Dragons Teeth Crichton 2017 (WWT)

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Little Wind said nothing. “What about the damned sky?” he demanded. But Little Wind explained no further. Shortly before dawn, it began to snow. They had reached Bear Creek, at the edge of the badlands, and they paused to water the team. “Snow good,” Little Wind said. “Unkpapa warriors see snow, know they follow us easy. They wait, stay warm by fire one, two hours in morning.” “And meanwhile, we go like hell.” Little Wind nodded. “Go like hell.” From Bear Creek they headed west across open prairie, as fast as they could with the horses. The wagon jolted over the prairie; the pain in his leg was severe. “Where are we going, Fort Benton?” Little Wind shook his head. “All white men go to Fort Benton.” “You mean the Sioux expect us to go there?” He nodded. “Then where are we going?” “Sacred Mountains.” “What sacred mountains?” Johnson asked, alarmed. “Thunder Mountains of Great Spirit.” “Why are we going there?” Little Wind did not answer. “How far away are these sacred mountains? What will we do when we get there?” “Four days. You wait,” Little Wind said. “You find many white men.” “But why are you going there?” Johnson noticed now that Little Wind’s buckskin shirt was seeping red, staining with blood. “Little Wind, are you hurt?” In a high falsetto voice, Little Wind began to chant a song. He did not speak again. They turned south, across the plains. Little Wind died silently on the third night. Johnson awoke at dawn to find him lying stiffly by the smoldering campfire, his face covered with snow, his skin cold to the touch. Using his rifle for support, Johnson dragged Little Wind’s body to the wagon, painfully hoisted it up into the bed, next to Toad’s, and drove on. He was feverish, hungry, and often delirious. He was sure he was lost, but he did not care. He began to remind himself to keep sitting up, even as his mind separated itself from his ordeal, creating distracting and confusing visions. At one point he believed that the wagon was approaching Rittenhouse Square in Philadelphia, and that he was searching unsuccessfully for his family’s mansion. Early in the fourth day, he found a clear wagon track, freshly used. The track wound eastward, toward a range of low purple hills. He went into the hills. As he continued on, he found places where timber had been cut and initials had been carved in trees—evidence of white men. It was very cold and the snow was falling heavily when he climbed a final ridge and saw a town in the gulley below—a single muddy street of square,
utilitarian wooden buildings. He whipped up the horses and rode down to it. And that was how, on August 31, 1876, William Johnson, nearly fainting from hunger, thirst, exhaustion, and blood loss, rode with a wagonload of bones, and the dead bodies of a white man and a Snake scout, into the town of Deadwood Gulch.
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Contents Cover Endpaper Title Page
Page 6 and 7:
Introduction As he appears in an ea
Page 8 and 9:
Young Johnson Joins the Field Trip
Page 10 and 11:
Marsh Professor Marsh kept offices
Page 12 and 13:
The name had an extraordinary effec
Page 14 and 15:
Learning Photography Johnson wanted
Page 16 and 17:
Philadelphia Philadelphia was the b
Page 18 and 19:
puffed-up, brave, and determined to
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“Really? Most families wish to me
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wealthy Quaker merchant, left him m
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“I have made inquiries about that
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informed of this by Red Cloud himse
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Going West The Chicago and North We
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The West Beyond Omaha the real West
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town, it was, noted Johnson, “a c
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The Pride De Paree Theater was a tw
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“I’ll be back, though.” “Wh
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“Oh yes, Mr. Johnson,” said the
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Cope’s Expedition It was immediat
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Established thirty years before, Sa
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e rejoining her husband; indeed, sh
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His personal style—his long curly
Page 48 and 49: Part II The Lost World
Page 50 and 51: He was awake for each changing of t
Page 52 and 53: Incidents on the Plains In the midd
Page 54 and 55: Sternberg went out and shot an ante
Page 56 and 57: Badlands The Judith River, a tribut
Page 58 and 59: “I said, ‘I bid you welcome and
Page 60 and 61: that the nomadic Indian lives a fre
Page 62 and 63: Bone Country With these preliminary
Page 64 and 65: potential discoveries lying in wait
Page 66 and 67: cooks it,” Isaac grumbled). Rathe
Page 68 and 69: In 1871, Lord Kelvin, the most emin
Page 70 and 71: Bad Water Cope chose his campsites
Page 72 and 73: They rode on. The sun dropped behin
Page 74 and 75: Dinner with Cope and Marsh The sear
Page 76 and 77: “Very true.” “Though you neve
Page 78 and 79: “Sleep with Your Guns Tonight, Bo
Page 80 and 81: Moving Camp In early August, they w
Page 82 and 83: “Just wait and see,” Cookie sai
Page 84 and 85: “Of these rocks?” Johnson asked
Page 86 and 87: Around the Campfire Any discovery l
Page 88 and 89: Leaving the Badlands The morning of
Page 90 and 91: I am dreadfully ashamed of what occ
Page 92 and 93: Part III Dragon Teeth
Page 94 and 95: they reach us.” “You boys go ri
Page 96 and 97: Badlands Silence, under a waning mo
Page 100 and 101: Deadwood Deadwood presented a bleak
Page 102 and 103: he thought. Then he finished fillin
Page 104 and 105: Laramie and Cheyenne?” “That’
Page 106 and 107: “He moved old Jake when the carri
Page 108 and 109: “So I expect you’ll have to get
Page 110 and 111: The Black Hills Art Gallery “How
Page 112 and 113: But it was also the beginning of tr
Page 114 and 115: His whole manner changed. “Then y
Page 116 and 117: For his part, Black Dick claimed to
Page 118 and 119: “I got to pack,” Johnson said,
Page 120 and 121: No one in town who knew Dick would
Page 122 and 123: already been to Montana City and Cr
Page 124 and 125: “Fossil bones are rock.” “The
Page 126 and 127: Emily’s News “It’s no good,
Page 128 and 129: All around him, the hotel was silen
Page 130 and 131: “I am sure of it,” the judge sa
Page 132 and 133: “Yes. Ling Chow has tool shed, ve
Page 134 and 135: A Shootout Black Dick showed up in
Page 136 and 137: Keep your eyes on him. Never take y
Page 138 and 139: had hired Kang to help him again, s
Page 140 and 141: Deadwood for the winter, but said t
Page 142 and 143: “Only a damn fool would think so,
Page 144 and 145: Johnson and Miss Emily ducked down.
Page 146 and 147: Red Canyon They reached the town of
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Fort Laramie Fort Laramie was an ar
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“Well, you’ve just come from De
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“How can you say that? Look at hi
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other pursuits of no substance.”
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“Of course.” “Really?” “D
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“I don’t see why not. She says
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At eight the next morning, feeling
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His father embraced him warmly. “
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Postscript Cope Edward Drinker Cope
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Author’s Note “Biography,” ob
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Afterword Michael’s dedication to
Page 170 and 171:
Taft, Robert. Photography and the A
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Also by Michael Crichton Fiction Th
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Copyright This book is a work of fi
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* Editor’s note: Charles H. Stern
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