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“Good point, Sheriff” I s away his observation for my own possible future use “Couldn’t’ve said it better ht fifteen no’s about we — my assistant and I — meet you at the courthouse around nine forty-five?”

“Bubba and ht here waitin’, Doc ’Preciate you”

Tyler Wainwright, uratively and subterraneanly deep — and didn’t even glance up when I burst through the basement door and into the bone lab

Most of the Anthropology Departraduate-student cubbyholes — were strung along one side of a long, curving hallhich ran beneath the grandstands of Neyland Stadium, the University of Tennessee’s massive tey laboratory lay two flights below, deep beneath the stadiu joke was that if Anthropology was housed in the stadiu colon The lab’s left side — where a ros was tucked just above a retaining wall, offering a scenic view of steel girders and concrete footers — was occupied by rows of gray, government-surplus metal tables, their tops cluttered with trays of bones A dozen goosenecklamps peered down at the bones, their saucer-sized lenses haloed by fluorescent tubes The lab’s cavelike right side was cra back into the sloping darkness, laden with thousands of cardboard boxes, containing nearly a million bones The skeletons were those of Arikara Indians who had lived and died two centuries before;river reservoirs in the Great Plains Now they resided here in this makeshift mausoleum, a postest football stadium

Tyler laid down the bone he’d been scrutinizing and picked up another, still not glancing up as the steel door slammed shut behind me “Hey, Dr B,” he said as the reverberations died away “Let ot a case”

“How’d you know?” I asked

“A,” he said, “it’s a holiday, which means nobody’s here but me and you and a bunch of dead Indians B, any tih to make the stadiuet really pumped when UT scores a touchdown or soo, you’re about to haul me out to a death scene”

“Impressive powers of deduction,” I said “I knew there was a reason I raduate assistant”

“Really? You picked me for my powers of deduction?” He pushed back fro dozens of pubic bones, each nuht you picked ”

“See?” I said “You just hit the deductive nail on the noggin again” I studied his face “You don’t sound all that excited So?”

“Gee, let’s see,” he said “My girlfriend’s just moved four hundred miles away, to Memphis and to med school; I’ve blown off two Labor Day cookouts so I can finally ress on my thesis research; and noe’re headed off to God knohere, to spend the day soaking up the sun and the stench, so I can spend tonight and to bones What could possibly be wrong?”

“How long’s Roxanne been gone?”

“A week,” he said

“And how long does medical school last?”

“Four years Not counting internship and residency”

“Oh boy,” I said “I can tell you’re gonna be a joy to be around”

The big clock atop the Morgan County Courthouse read 9:05 when Tyler and I arrived in Wartburg and parked “Daood tiet here from Knoxville”

Tyler glanced at his watch “Sorry to burst your bubble, but it’s actually nine thirty-seven I’ht twice a day”

“Come to think of it,” I recalled, “seeo, too, when I was here on another case”

The stuck clock seean County Courthouse, a square, two-story brick structure built back in 1904, back when Wartburg still hoped for a prosperous future The building’s boxy lines were broken by four pyraraceful white belfry and cupola rising fro’s center Each side of the cupola — north, south, east, and west — proudly displayed a six-foot dial where time stood still I suspected that it wasn’t just eternally 9:05 in Wartburg; I suspected that it was also, in many respects, still 1904 here Sheriff Jaainst the fender of the Ford Bronco parked behind the courthouse, would certainly have looked at ho in a Civil War regient Meffert, on the other hand — one foot propped on the bu a Civil War uniform, too, I realized, but Bubba’s eyes soness to the — would have branded Bubba as a modern-day reenactor, not a true time traveler

I made the briefest and ent Meffert, this is ht”—and then Tyler and I followed the law on the shoulder at a narrow turnoff There, we transferred our field kit into the back of the sheriff’s Bronco, a four-wheel-drive vehicle with enough ground clearance to pass unih tree stuh for reed Once we turned off the winding blacktop and into the pair of ruts leading up to the ht they’d been: I saithbones

Cotterell and Meffert rode up front; Tyler and I sat in the back like prisoners, behind a wire-mesh screen, as the Bronco lurched up the h,” Tyler shouted over the whine of the trans branches, “I was on the mechanical bull at Desperado’s, three sheets to the wind I hung on for twenty seconds, then went flying, ass over teakettle Puked in midair — a comet with a tail of vomit”

“If you need to puke now, son,” Cotterell hollered back, “give me a heads-

up You ain’t got nocranks nor door handles back there”

“I’ht,” Tyler assured him “Only had two beers for breakfast today” He was probably joking, but given how ht have been telling the truth

Eventually the Bronco bucked to a stop beside a high, ragged wall of stone, and the four of us staggered out of the vehicle The shattered surface beneath our feet ht have been the surface of the moon, if not for the kudzu vines and scrubby trees “Watch your step there, Doc,” Cotterell warned over his shoulder as he and Meffert led us toward the loo was absurdly unnecessary — not because the footing was good, but because it was so spectacularly bad The jagged shale debris left behind by the strip-ed from brick-sized chunks to sofa-sized slabs

“I’ the way,” I told the backs of the lu lawmen

“Be hard to find on your own,” said the sheriff

“True, but not what I et snakebit, it’ll be the guy walking in front Or uy, if the snake’s slow on the draw”

“Maybe,” conceded Meffert “Ortheir hands down in the rocks, rooting for bones”

“Dang, Bubba,” I said, wincing at the ie he’d conjured “That’ll teach me to be a smart-ass”

“Man,” muttered Tyler after a hundred slow yards “Every step here is a broken ankle waiting to happen” The gear he was lugging — a big plastic bin containing two caloves, trowels and tweezers, clipboards and for or keep his balance The trees were too sparse and scrubby to serve as props or handholds; about all they were good for was to obscure the footing and iress