Beastly Bones (7 page)

Jackaby nodded, confirming the story. “Seemed a shame to let such a remarkable creature be sold off to the highest bidder, and worse yet to see her fall into the wrong hands—besides which, Hudson had already proven himself a capable handler.”

“So,” continued Hudson, “he drops enough for a whole new boat, which makes the Greek happy as a fish in whiskey, and he gives Rosie to me, along with a little history lesson to make sure I knew what I had bought.”

“And what was that?” I asked.

Hudson winked. “Stymphalian bird.”

“Have you ever heard of them, Miss Rook?” Jackaby asked.

“Isn't that one of the labors of Hercules?”

“Hah!” Hudson looked very pleased. “No wonder Jackaby hired you. Yup, the very same. Beaks like bronze, only sharper and stronger. Feathers like daggers. If she has enough room, Rosie can whip one of them suckers faster'n I can pull a trigger.” He leaned in with a grin, “An' that's purdy darn fast. Apparently old Hercules had to scare 'em off with some sorta magic chimes. The cork was Jackaby's idea.”

“Not entirely,” said Jackaby. “I did find a few relevant passages that suggested it had worked before. Soldiers in Arcadia made armor out of cork, because the birds carved right through iron. With the cork, however, their beaks would catch and become stuck.

“Better than birdlime!” Hudson added.

“I can't imagine an entire flock of them,” I said.

“That woulda been somethin' to see.” Hudson sounded a little wistful. “I like ta think there might be one or two out there, maybe a few in captivity like my Rosie, but the rest are all gone. I do like a rare breed.”

“I can see why you're fond of Jackaby.”

“Hah! He's as rare a breed as they come—that's the truth!”

Jackaby rolled his eyes.

“I'm real glad you two came out.” Hudson turned back to the road. “You'll like Gad's. It's purdy out here in the valley. Only, best you don't go explorin' too much on yer own. Word is something big's come to the valley. Bill says a couple local hunters found some paw prints a few weeks back like nothin' they'd ever seen. I'm right keen to get a crack at it, whatever it is.”

I nodded and absently gnawed a bite off the strip of deer jerky in my hands. I tried to imagine what sort of lumbering beasts might lurk in these hills. The last time I'd gotten lost in the woods, I really had been attacked by a vicious creature—and it would've done me through if not for Charlie coming to my aid. Even at his best he had barely been able to stand his ground. I blanched and nearly choked on the chunk of gamy meat.

Had local hunters already stumbled across Charlie Barker's secret? Charlie—properly Charlie Cane, as I had known him in New Fiddleham—was part of a nomadic family, the House of Caine, all of whom were born with the ability to change from men to dogs and back again. It was the exposure of his inhuman heritage that had forced Charlie out of New Fiddleham, and it was his most closely guarded secret. I took its keeping very seriously. I would not know it myself, had he not risked everything to protect his town. But Charlie could not endlessly deny his full nature; he had to occasionally change, and in his canine form, he would certainly leave footprints unlike anything a local had ever seen.

Jackaby and I exchanged glances. I could tell that the thought had occurred to my employer as well. “What sort of prints did Bill say that they had found?” Jackaby asked. I eyed the heavy rifles and sharp skinning knives tethered to the walls of the carriage. “Mountain lions, perhaps?”

“Naw,” Hudson called back. “Said it was like a fox or a wolf's, but big—bigger'n a bear. He's been trading with hunters in these parts longer'n I can reckon—so if there's something in these woods he ain't seen before”—the big, bushy-bearded face popped back into the carriage with a wide grin—“then I wanna hunt it.” He pulled himself back out and hummed happily as the carriage bumped along the rocky pass.

The soft hide I was resting on suddenly felt a little less pleasant, and the sharp trapper's tools looked a lot more dangerous. I swallowed hard, and the lump of deer jerky slid uncomfortably down my throat. Charlie Barker and Hank Hudson had been two of the most pleasant acquaintances I had made since my arrival in the States—but now it seemed I would be spending my trip worrying about whether one of the bullets Hudson had just purchased had Charlie's name on it. The ammunition boxes beneath my seat clinked as the carriage bumped along. They were the big ones.

Chapter Fifteen

A
fter a long, winding ride, a farmhouse inched into view ahead of us, the details crystalizing slowly as we approached. It was a two-story house near the base of a rocky, sloping hill, which rolled and bumped its way up into the bordering mountains. Beside the building sat a barn with a slightly sagging roof, and beyond that, a half-dozen goats were grazing in a wide field bordered by a simple wooden fence. I spied a figure in the sunlight, and then a second and third. They seemed to spot us as well, and three men came to greet the carriage as we drew to a halt.

The first was an older gentleman in faded coveralls and a battered, wide-brimmed hat. He gave Hank a friendly wave as we approached. The second was a young man in sturdy slacks and a tailored vest, though he had rolled up his sleeves, and his trousers were caked with dirt. A fine layer of dust seemed to have settled all over the fellow. The third was dressed in a policeman's blues, and I recognized his face at once. Charlie caught my eye through the window and smiled as we drew near.

“Hank?” called the man in coveralls when the horses had stopped. “Hank Hudson, it is you! It's been forever since you were out this way.”

The carriage rocked as Hank hopped to the ground. He greeted the man with a hearty handshake. “Hugo Brisbee. Good ta see ya, old man. Listen, I was real sorry to hear about Miss Madeleine. If you need anything at all . . .”

Brisbee forced a pained but appreciative smile. His eyes looked like they were welling up, but he blinked and shook his head. “That's very kind of you, Hank, but I'll make do. I've got to press on. My Maddie was never one to let me mope around when there was work to be done. She always . . .” His voice caught, and he took a deep breath. “Anyway, you should meet my new friend . . .”

Brisbee made a few introductions I couldn't quite hear, and Charlie stepped forward to assist Jackaby and me out of the carriage. “Thank you, Mr. Barker,” I said, climbing down first.

“I wish I had known you would be here this early. I would have come to greet you at the station,” he said. “Things run a little more slowly out here in the valley. My new cabin is up the road just a few miles, so I took the liberty of meeting you here, instead. I hope you don't mind?”

“Of course not. You're lovely—I mean, it's lovely!” My face instantly flushed. “To see you again. It's lovely to see you again.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Rook. You're the first visitors I've seen from my old life.” A hint of melancholy flickered across his face. I couldn't imagine how he must have felt. It had been hard enough for me to choose to turn away from the life I had known, but in Charlie's case, it was his life that had turned on him. “Mr. Jackaby,” he said, “I'm very happy to see you as well. I still owe you a great deal.”

Jackaby waved him away as he stepped down. “Nonsense. New Fiddleham owes us all a great deal, but cities are notoriously unreliable debtors. You're better off dealing with goblins. How is banishment these days?”

“Not as wretched as you might imagine.” Charlie's voice was soft, accented with a few gentle, Slavic undertones. “The valley is really quite serene, and I am getting to know my neighbors, few though they may be. There are good people here.”

“One fewer of them than there ought to be,” said Jackaby quietly.

Charlie nodded gravely and glanced back. The three men were chatting cordially behind him. “I haven't discussed the matter with Mr. Brisbee,” he whispered. “I did not wish to cause him any further distress. The woman's death was already hard enough—and it might have been nothing . . .”

“It's never nothing, though, is it?” Jackaby gave me a meaningful glance. “Don't worry. We will endeavor to keep our investigation clandestine.”

Charlie nodded.

Hudson laughed at something the dusty stranger had said, and then he turned his attention to us. “How about you, young man?” he called over to Charlie. “You ever go huntin' big game?”

My stomach lurched.

“Big game?” Charlie asked.

“There's somethin' big come to Gad's Valley.” The trapper was grinning avidly. “And I aim to catch it. Ever been on a hunt yourself?”

If Charlie realized that he was the prey in question, he gave no indication. “I'm afraid not, sir,” he answered. “I've only hunted criminals.”

Hudson nodded. “Respectable line o' work,” he said. “Yer like to get a bit restless out here in the hills, though. Gad's is mostly just quiet farm folk.”

“I'm looking forward to a quiet post for a while,” Charlie said. It might have been my imagination, but there seemed to be just a moment of uneasy silence as the two locked eyes. In my mind, the big trapper could look straight into Charlie and see the beast beneath the surface—but the moment passed.

“Where are my manners?” Hudson clapped his hands together. “Let me introduce my old buddy, Hugo Brisbee, and—oh sorry, what was yer name again?”

“Owen. Owen Horner.” The young man flashed us a winning smile, complete with dimples and gleaming white teeth. “A pleasure.”

Owen Horner.
The name bounced around in my head for several moments before finding its place. Owen Horner was more than a farmhand. At home in England, I used to devour my father's scientific journals, and Owen Horner had made his way into several publications over the past few years as a rising star in the geological field. I tried to remember what great accomplishment had gained him such notoriety, but the details had slipped off into the corners of my mind.

“Right.” Hudson gestured back to us. “And this here's R. F. Jackaby and Miss Abigail Rook. They've come to help the coppers track down that big old bone they were talking about in the paper.”

“Oh—you read that? Hmm. Heck of an article,” said Hugo Brisbee, nodding. “That reporter came all the way out from New Fiddleham just to interview us. It was only supposed to be about the dig, of course—but then . . .” He rubbed his hands and swallowed hard. “She said it'll be running up in Crowley and Brahannasburg, too—maybe even national if she can get all the big papers to pick it up. Maddie would like that. She always wanted to get out of the valley. I've been getting all sorts of kind letters from names I haven't heard in years. It's real nice to see some folks in person, though, too. Mr. Horner's presence has been a gift this past week. He's been keeping me company, taking care of everything while I was in town making arrangements—and of course he's been working the site all by himself. He was just about to show me the latest find, as a matter of fact.”

My heart skipped. “I don't suppose you would mind if Mr. Horner showed us his progress as well?” I ventured.

Brisbee shrugged. “As good a place to start as any—why don't you all come have a look?”

My mind was humming with anticipation, but Hudson held up a hand. “Mighty kind—and I'll be sure to take ya up on that offer soon enough, but I'd best be gettin' Rosie back to my place first. We been out in the world for a long stretch, and I reckon she's about done being cooped up in that wagon. Got a few other odds and ends I should see to while I still got daylight, too.”

“It
has
been a long time,” said Brisbee, “or else maybe I don't know you as well as I thought. Would've guessed you'd be the first one in line to get a look at our creature.”

Hank chuckled. “Oh, I'll be back—you'd better believe it. Them bones have waited a long time, and they can wait a little longer. Show me somethin' that's still walkin' the earth, and you'll find me a little faster on the draw.”

“Fair enough. Nice to see you again, Hank. Don't be a stranger!”

“Same, Brisbee. Good meetin' you fellas, too.” He gave a nod to Charlie and Owen Horner, and then turned back to Jackaby and me. “You two gonna need a ride back into town later?”

I hadn't even thought about our accommodations for the evening. I noticed an inn on the way through town, but I had not realized the trip would take us so far into the valley.

“I'm sure that will not be necessary,” Charlie interjected. “Mr. Jackaby and Miss Rook are dear friends, and they are welcome to stay with me. My cabin is a short ride from here.” He looked to us. “If that's all right with you?”

“Splendid,” said Jackaby. “Rook, you don't mind staying the night in a cozy little cabin with Mr. Barker, do you?”

I could feel a faint warmth rushing to my cheeks, but I answered quickly, before it had time to build to a proper flush. “No, sir. Not at all.”

“Well then,” said Jackaby, “that's settled. Thank you kindly, Mr. Barker.”

Hudson pulled our luggage out of the carriage. “I can't thank you enough,” I told him as he passed me my bag.

He waved me off casually. “Weren't nothin', little lady. I was mighty glad for the company. You take care of yerself, and that boss of yers, ya hear?” He plopped himself back into the coach box and gave the horses a nudge with the reins, throwing a final, friendly wave. As he locked eyes with Charlie, the expression beneath the trapper's bushy beard didn't really change, but something about his gaze hardened for a fraction of a second. A glance at Charlie's pleasant, reserved countenance would have had me believe it had all been in my head again, and by then Hudson had turned back to his horses.

“Well,” said Owen Horner, clapping and rubbing his hands together as the carriage rattled away, “who wants to see a dinosaur?”