Make No Bones

heard Sauer say in response to John's murmured question.

John came into the bedroom. “How ya doin', Tex? Little trouble in the saddle?'

'He was doing beautifully,” Julie said loyally. “It wasn't his fault.'

'Right,” John said. “How many other people fell off their horses?'

Gideon sighed. “None, just me.'

John dropped into the rattan armchair that Sauer had vacated and looked at Gideon. “So I guess that's it for the reconstruction.'

'Well, as a matter of fact, I do feel okay now, and I hate to just leave it, and I was thinking I might, um, head over there and put in a couple of hours...” He paused to permit a reaction from Julie, who tended toward a forceful and despotic maternalism at times like this.

Surprisingly, she failed to come roaring out of her chair. “I think that's a good idea,” she said quietly. “If you feel well enough.'

Gideon was speechless.

Even John was surprised. “You do?'

'Gideon—John—I think that—now will you let me get this out before jumping all over me? I'm not so sure this was an accident,” she said, speaking rapidly to keep from being interrupted. “I was only a few feet away from Callie when it happened, and I didn't see anybody else jostle her, or anything at all. Nobody was even moving. All of a sudden she just took off, yelling. I think she knew darn well what she was doing, and 1 think—well, that's what I think.” She drew a breath and waited for a response.

John, his arms crossed, leaned back, tipping the chair onto its rear legs. “I suppose I could ask around, see if other people saw it the same way.'

Julie stared at him. “You mean you're not going to try to argue me out of this? You think I might be right? I'm stunned. Gideon, you too?'

'Sorry, I don't see it.'

'What's wrong with it?'

'Why would Callie want to kill me?'

'Kill you?” The idea obviously distressed her. Gideon hadn't much liked it either. “Who said anything about killing you? I think she wanted to keep you from finishing the reconstruction, that's all.'

'By scaring my horse? It's way too iffy. How could she know she'd get a chance to do it? How could she know for sure it'd throw me off? How could she know I'd be hurt at all? Besides, Callie's horse was giving her trouble the whole morning. I just don't think—'

'All right, all right,” Julie grumbled, “I gather you don't think it's highly probable.'

'And why would it matter to anyone whether I finished or not? You know a reconstruction isn't that critical. It's just not that reliable. The dental records are what's going to count in this one.'

'Yeah, but who's got dental records?” John said, taking up the argument. “That reconstruction could turn out to be the closest thing we've got to proof that it's Salish.'

'God help us, then,” Gideon said. “Look, we're ninety-nine percent sure it's Salish right now. What difference would a little more evidence make one way or the other? Why would Callie or anybody else care?'

'I can think of a damn good reason,” John said. The front legs of his chair hit the floor with a thump. “Let's assume for a minute that Callie's mixed up in Salish's murder somehow, okay?'

'Okay.'

'Okay. Well, then, she'd care plenty, because if we can show this is Salish for sure—for absolute, positive sure the Bureau's gonna jump into this with both feet. If it's not, if it just might be Salish, then Applewhite maybe gives me another day or two here to see what I can come up with, and that's it. It's all Honeyman's again.'

Gideon frowned. “So?'

'So if you killed somebody, who'd you rather have on your tail, Farrell Honeyman or the Federal Bureau of Investigation?'

After a pause Gideon said, “I see what you mean.'

'Right. Hey, I'm not knocking Farrell, you understand.'

'But look, John, it still doesn't figure. In the first place, you could never use a reconstruction as ‘proof that anybody was anybody. It's the first step toward an ID, not the last one—which all these people know perfectly well. Second, what good does it do anyone to stop me from finishing? You can always get somebody else—somebody really good at it—to do one later if you want it.'

John sighed. “Listen, Doc, I don't know what the hell is going on any more than anybody else does. I don't know if Julie's right or wrong. I just think it'd be a real good idea if you went ahead and finished the thing. Let's see where that gets us.'

'Well, I'm not going to argue with you about that. John, would you mind dropping by the meeting room and letting the kids in my class know we'll get started again down at the justice building in half an hour?'

Slowly and stiffly, Gideon swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was not in any real distress, now that the headache and nausea had receded, but there was no mistaking the fact that he'd taken a pounding. “Better tell them forty minutes,” he said. “I'm not going to be setting any speed records.'

'If it's all the same to you, Doc, we'll just get on with it and leave everybody be. You can explain what you did later. How long you figure it'll take?'

'Couple of hours, once I get there.'