“Oh, you can find them for sale all over town. Skulls. Pots. Flints. Metates. Whatever you need.”
“Who is the biggest dealer in Cortez?” Longarm asked. “You see, we are collectors.”
“Oh, then you’d probably want to go over to the Cortez Museum and talk to its curator and owner, Mr. Laird. He buys and sells some things, but as you probably know, it’s illegal to go up there anymore and loot the cliff dwellings. Besides, Richard Wetherill and his family, who discovered most of them cliff dwellings, already took out a bunch of stuff.”
“Are the Wetherills around here now?”
“They’ve moved south. I understand that Richard is raising cattle and exploring some other ruins, but I don’t know for sure. Right now, there’s only a couple of scientists excavating up at Mesa Verde.”
“Scientists?”
“That’s right. They’re excavating at Cliff Palace and some of the lesser-known ruins. You know, digging them up and then trying to preserve and protect them.”
“I see. Have they been up there for quite some time?”
“Oh, yeah. They work for some university. They’re real archaeologists and pretty standoffish.”
Longarm nodded with understanding. “How often do they come down to Cortez?”
“As little as possible. They’re not real friendly, and even when they come into town they don’t stay long. Just long enough to pick up their mail and restock their supplies.”
“I understand,” Longarm said. “What are their names?”
“Arthur Lucking and John Barker. But you’d better not address them as anything but ‘Doctor,’ or they get mad and act insulted. I guess they’re real smart.”
“Are they removing artifacts from Mesa Verde?” Miranda asked, unable to keep quiet any longer.
“Some, I think. We never see what they’re doing cause they are camped way back on the mesa.”
“Do they work with anyone locally?”
“No,” the liveryman said, “but I do know that they are supplied by Mountain Packers out of Durango.”
Longarm cussed himself for not having that knowledge when he’d been in Durango. If the archaeologists were in on the theft of the artifacts—and he had a hunch that they ought to be his immediate prime suspects—then Mountain Packers would most likely be their way of delivering illegal artifacts from the cliff dwellings.
“Mister, are you and your wife planning a ride up there yourselves, or do you want to hire a professional guide?”
“We hadn’t decided.”
“Well,” the liveryman told them, “I’d recommend a guide who is very familiar with Mesa Verde and its ruins. Someone who can really show you everything and has some knowledge of the cliff dwellings.”
“I suppose you just happen to know exactly such a person, right?”
“As a matter of fact, I do! My brother, Matt Horn, is one of the best. He’s been going up to Mesa Verde for years and knows every inch of the area. He can tell you lots of stories, and he’s a first-class packer, cook, and wrangler.”
“How much does he charge?”
“Since you already have horses and that burro for packing, Matt would probably give you a hefty discount.”
“He ought to.”
“Why don’t I send Matt over to meet you at the Concord Hotel this afternoon and you can sit down and talk things over. If it’s a match, I’ll even give you a discount on keeping your horses at my livery. Don’t see how you can beat such a deal as that.”
“All right,” Longarm said. “But instead of this afternoon, have him come on over about nine o’clock tomorrow morning and we can talk over breakfast. My wife and I are pretty tuckered out from the traveling.”
“You came in from the direction of Pueblo, didn’t you?”
“That’s right.”
“You have any trouble with that gang that’s been robbing stagecoaches and their passengers?”
“As a matter of fact, we did,” Longarm said, not wanting to tell the story and create any interest in or curiosity about himself. “Send Matt over to the hotel at nine and we’ll try to get something settled,” he said, turning to leave.
“You’ll like him!” the liveryman called. “And I’ll make sure that he gives you a full tour at a rate better than you could get anywhere else in Cortez!”
Longarm and Miranda walked into the Concord Hotel, and the first thing that happened was that a little old woman no bigger than a minute sized them up and then proclaimed, “My name is Miss Jenny McAllister! Who are you?”
Longarm introduced himself and Miranda as Mr. and Mrs. Long.
“We’re on our honeymoon,” Miranda said, squeezing his arm. “We’ve come from Denver to see the cliff dwellings up at Mesa Verde.”
“Well, now!” Jenny said. “You are in for a real treat! Wait until you see Cliff Palace, Square Tower, and Balcony House! Why, you’ll want to move right in yourselves! You see, the ancient ones knew what they were doing when they built their homes up in them sandstone cliffs! Yes, sir, they’re out of the wind and snow and most are south- facing, where they get the winter sunshine that would heat their rock houses so that they kept warm even on the coldest nights.”
