Chapter 7
Mitch
Ever since I’d heard the gunshots earlier, I'd been trying to work out where the hell they’d come from.
Out here, sound carried for miles, bouncing off rock-hard soil and jagged red rocks like a goddamn ping pong ball.
With that storm opening its throat on the horizon, I had no chance of pinning down the location.
Unless the bastard kept firing.
I eased Zeus to a stop at a patch of grass so he could grab a feed, then raised my binoculars again. The land stretched endlessly in every direction. No buildings. No roads. No fences. Just scorched earth, wiry trees, and a mean-looking stormfront swelling fast across the sky.
Forked lightning lit up the ridge, and a flash pinged off something to my right. I adjusted the binoculars, scanning the arid land.
What the hell?
An off-road bus was parked near a dry creek bed.
My gut tightened.
Someone was camping on Koolaroo, and I'd bet my Harley they didn't get permission.
I grabbed the satellite phone from my saddlebag, pulled out the antenna, and waited for a signal. "Hey, Cassidy, you there? Over."
While I waited for her to answer, I scanned the bus for markings. Nothing but rust and red dirt. I pulled off my cowboy hat and ran my hand through my sweat-soaked hair. Damn, it's hot out here.
Her voice crackled through. "Hey, Mitch, you're alive!"
I chuckled. "Hey, sis. I'm out on the northern ridge, and I've got an off-road bus out here. Anyone got a permit to be on our land?"
Lightning split the sky overhead, and static hissed through the line.
"I doubt it. Dad never lets anyone on our land. You know that."
Yeah, I knew. I'd seen Dad fire pot shots at a couple of greenies once who'd wandered onto Koolaroo. He’d been lucky he hadn’t killed one of them.
Luckier still that his only mate, Bob Ackerman, was a cop.
Now senior sergeant at Winton, Bob had saved Dad's ass more than once, usually after some drunken brawl that left blood on Frank Branson's knuckles and some poor bastard wishing he'd stayed home.
"Maybe they saw Dad." Cassidy’s tone suggested she actually cared about the evil bastard. Maybe she wasn't scarred by him after all.
I lowered the binoculars. "That's what I intend to find out."
"Be careful, Mitch."
"Always. Over."
"Hey," she added quickly. "It's good to have you back."
I shook my head. "Over and out."
I shoved my hat back on, put the phone into my pocket, and gathering the reins, pulled Zeus's head up from the grass. I gave Zeus a hard nudge, and he tore down the ridge, hooves churning the dirt beneath us.
Thunder exploded overhead as nature's fury matched my own. The closer I got, the dodgier the setup looked with gear strewn around a sagging tent, and a battered bus with wind-ravaged tarps thrashing against metal.
No other vehicle was in sight.
These bastards have been here a while.
I hauled back on the reins and yanked Zeus to a stop just shy of the bus.
I dismounted, boots hitting the red dirt hard.
I pulled the rifle from its scabbard and checked the chamber—not that I intended to use it, but I'd make damn sure these bastards knew I would if they gave me trouble.
I propped it against the bus within easy reach and stormed toward the rust-streaked door.
The glass was smeared with dust and featured a faded sticker of a T. rex devouring a man.
Without knocking, I wrenched the door open and climbed inside. The air stunk of stale tobacco but was cool, thanks to the generator humming outside.
No one was inside.
A desk was bolted to the floor, strewn with maps, topographic charts, and satellite data printouts. And a laptop sat open beside a protein bar wrapper, three empty beer bottles, and an overflowing ashtray that made my stomach turn.
What kind of bullshit operation is this?
Thunder cracked so close overhead that the bus frame shook. Scowling, I stepped back into the heat, slammed the door behind me, and stalked toward what I thought was a goddamn sinkhole.
But when I reached the edge, I froze.
A massive dinosaur skull was half-exposed near the top edge of the pit. Its eye socket alone was the size of a tire. A man and a woman were down below, their attention locked on the bones scattered around them like some prehistoric graveyard.
What the hell?
They must be archeologists.
Had to be.
Didn't matter who the hell they were.
They didn't belong on Branson property.
"What the hell are you doing on my land?" I yelled, boots skidding slightly as I stepped closer to the rim.
The woman spun, wide-eyed. I'd pegged her as mid-thirties, maybe older, based on the practical hiking shorts, and a no-nonsense ponytail that screamed, “Don't mess with me.”
However, when she stumbled back, tripping over bones and landing hard, I caught the wild defiance in her eyes. She's younger than I’d thought.
"What?" she asked as a camera clattered beside her.
I barely heard her as the storm cracked open above, shooting rain onto us like detonations, but the shock on her face was real.
I dragged my gaze from her to the older man at the other end of the pit. A rifle was slung over one shoulder as if he thought he was on a goddammed safari.
He slicked his hair back with one hand. "Oh, hello."
Hello! My fists clenched.
The woman yanked off her hat and scrambled to her feet. "Who the hell are you?" she shouted, breathless but defiant.
"You're on my land," I said. "That's all you need to know."
She straightened, brushing wet dirt off her hands onto her shorts. "We're conducting a research dig," she yelled up to me, half-defensive, half-winded. "We have permits."
"Not for this land, you don't." I scanned my surroundings, checking whether anyone else was with them, but saw no one. "This is Koolaroo Ranch. Private property."
She hesitated and glanced toward the older guy.
"We've got permission to be here," the man said, but his voice lacked conviction.
"Like hell you do," I growled. "You're trespassing."
The heavens opened wider, and rain hammered into the pit as loud as a war drum. The hard-packed dirt turned to slush beneath my boots, and rivulets streamed over the rim, carving deep tracks through the fragile walls.
"Get out of the damn hole," I barked.
"Like hell," the woman shot back, dropping to her knees. She yanked a silver tarp from a weathered leather kit, frantically unfolded it, and tried to secure the tarp over one of the skulls in a useless attempt to shield the bone from the downpour.
What the hell?
"I said get out!"
"I can't!" she shouted, glaring up at me with rain streaming down her face. Mud streaked her arms, and her light brown hair stuck to her forehead. "These bones are precious! I have to save them."
Son of a bitch.
Thunder cracked directly overhead, and as sheets of rain hammered the area, the thick clay around my boots turned to treacherous slop. Water spilled over the edge, pouring into the pit like someone had turned on a massive tap.
Below, the wall behind the woman let out a deep groan as more sediment shifted. A crack split through the red dirt, zigzagging toward the ravine side as if a fuse had been lit.
"We have permission!" the man shouted, but his voice cracked. He knew he was full of shit.
"That's a fucking lie." I backed away from the edge before the whole thing gave out and took me with it.
The rain turned from a heavy downpour into a full-blown torrent. Muddy water roared across the land in sheets, hammering the ridge, doing its best to erase every trace of life, and surging into the creek bed that hadn't seen water in months, maybe even years.
"I told you to get out!" I yelled.
The woman was soaked to the bone, yet she was still on her knees, trying to wrap that tarp over one of the massive skulls.
Jesus. Stubborn as hell. Brave, too. But brave didn't mean shit when nature was set to show us who was boss.
"Leave it!" I roared.
"Piss off!" she shouted, leaning over the skull trying to protect it with her damn body.
Water surged across the red earth, gouging deep trenches and slamming into the creek bed like a battering ram. Rivulets turned to streams. Streams quickly swelled bigger.
The pit was filling up.
The man adjusted the rifle on his shoulder, eyes darting toward the far wall.
I followed his gaze.
Three round holes were punched through the pit wall. Just above the fracture line.
Bullet holes.
My gut dropped. "Did you shoot the wall?" I bellowed, rage spiking through me.
His face flickered with guilt. His stance didn't deny it. He shifted the rifle higher on his back and took a step toward the ladder, eyes darting like he'd just realized how badly he'd screwed up.
I glanced toward Zeus. My horse was still where I'd left him, head down against the sleeting rain, but he was getting skittish.
Water now gushed from the rim in a relentless torrent, and the pit was filling fast. Muddy runoff swirled around their ankles, rising higher with every thunderclap.
"You bloody idiots!" I shouted. "Get out of the hole before you drown!"
"No!" the woman yelled, glaring up at me through a curtain of rain. "These ancient fossils are precious. If this storm's as bad as it looks, the entire site could be compromised."
Thunder exploded overhead, the sound ripping through earth and sky. The ground beneath my boots turned to sludge, and a stream of mud poured into the pit.
"I don't give a shit about your bones!" I crouched near the skull by the rim. It was the size of a goddamn engine block. That thing wasn't going anywhere. "You have no right to any of those fossils. This land is mine."
"Yeah! Well, this ancient graveyard is mine!" she shot back, fierce enough that her neck tendons bulged. "And it's not just a fossil, it's a new species!"
What the hell?
Another crack boomed overhead. The far wall shifted, and a fracture split open across the weakest point.
That wall is gonna blow.
"Charlie, we gotta go!" the man shouted. He grabbed a kit bag and slogged through knee-deep water toward the ladder.
"No, Doug. I can't!" She yanked out another tarp and dragged it over the biggest ribcage I'd ever seen. The damn woman thought she could hold back a tsunami with a tarp.
A roar thundered behind me.
"Oh fuck!" I jumped back as a wall of water roared over the ridge, plowing over a tent as if it wasn’t even there and charging straight for me.
Zeus reared and moved away putting distance between him and the mud.
The torrent divided into two. Half of it blasted into the creek, doubling its size. The other half became a waterfall of sludge pouring into the pit, crashing between Charlie and Doug, and smashing a rib cage to pieces.
I dropped to my belly, and gripped the edge. "Get out of there!"
"Charlie, come on!" Doug charged through muddy water toward her.
"Move!" I barked. "That pit's about to collapse!"
The far wall groaned like a wounded beast.
She spun toward the sound. Her jaw dropped. Her gaze snapped to me, and the fear in her eyes carved straight through me.
"Get on the ladder!" I shouted.
The far wall exploded outward in a deafening roar and a wave of clay, bones, and red sludge ripped through the pit. The ground tilted as the entire ledge gave way, and the water surged toward the ravine like a drain plug had been pulled.
"Hang on!" I jumped to my feet and raced along the rim, boots skidding, mud sucking at my heels. The earth beneath me trembled as though it might go, too.
A flash of silver tarp spun out of the hole. A dinosaur skull the size of a boulder tumbled after it.
Charlie and Doug were swept into the torrent in a rush of fossils and floodwater.
"Charlie!" I shouted, heart hammering, scanning the churning chaos. “Doug!”
But they were gone.