"It's all still too much of a coincidence for my taste," Dean said. "It sounds like the Lucky Pup Mine is at the bottom of the whole business. Why it's so important, I don't know."

"That's another easy one," Fred said. "It was a gold mine, wasn't it? I'll bet each of them know something they think the other doesn't so's they want the whole shebang for themselves!"

"I'm not sure that makes much sense either. According to Martha, no one has been near that mine in years. Certainly it hasn't been worked. If it was so valuable, why didn't old man Dawkins develop it? He owned it for years. I get the impression that's chasing down the wrong trail. We're missing something."

"Maybe the land is valuable for some other reason," Cynthia offered.

Dean shook his head. "It's ten miles from nowhere, in every direction. The elevation is too high for timber and it's far too remote for any development-there are thousands of acres in the San Juans far more suitable. The roads up there are closed by snow two-thirds of the year."

"I think we should see The Lucky Pup Mine for ourselves," Cynthia said. "We still have the original drawing of Martha's directions." Dean's heart sank. The very thought of crawling into a dark hole in the ground caused shivers of ice on the back of his neck. "We promised Martha we'd follow through on this business," Cynthia added, clinching the obligation like a root canal appointment.

"I'll go along," Fred said in too chipper a voice.

The next-to-last thing Dean wanted was to have to look out for the safety of his stepfather-the last was going himself. He'd have all he could do to keep his own screaming nerves in line. "You're on jury duty tomorrow," he reminded the old man.

"Danged! You're right. I nearly forgot. We could wait until Wednesday."

"You've got your big auction on Wednesday."

"We should go as soon as possible," Cynthia said. "If someone tampered with the real bones, we don't want to give them a chance to clean up whatever they might have left behind."

"Like the pack of cigarettes," Dean said.

"Maybe I could get excused from jury duty," Fred said, in a last-ditch effort to join what he now consider an adventure.

"We'll take notes," Cynthia said, patting his arm.

"Just take lots of flashlights," he answered.

"All things considered, you seem to be holding up pretty well," Dean said to his wife as they cuddled beneath cool sheets in the dwindling hours of the evening. "With all you're got on your plate, being a basket case would be perfectly acceptable behavior."




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