“Mr. Lamb.” Owen Horner had allowed a little glint of wonder to creep into his eyes. “I know it sounds impossible, and maybe it is, but can you imagine being the first professional team in history to uncover bona fide scientific evidence of dragons on earth? What do you say we put the past behind us and work together to find out the truth for ourselves?”
“I say you’re mad. All of you. This farce has gone on long enough.” Lamb whipped around, nearly toppling over Murphy. “Out of my way, you oaf. I am getting back to work—real, objective, scientific work. If I see any of you within the boundaries of my excavation site, you will be arrested. Isn’t that right, Officer?”
Charlie looked uncomfortable. “I really don’t think that’s necessary, sir. Mr. Jackaby is very good at what he does. If you would just give him a chance . . .”
“You, too? Good Lord, I would expect as much from that backwoods trapper, but . . . wait a moment. Where is he?”
Hank Hudson, hulking mountain of a man though he was, had slipped quietly away. Jackaby raised his eyebrows. “Is that really a question, Mr. Lamb? Hank Hudson has always been a bit of an enthusiast when it comes to uncommon animals. He has just learned that the remains of one of the most legendary species in all of human history are sticking out of the dirt a few hundred yards away. Where would you expect to find an individual of his disposition?”
Lewis Lamb’s eyes flashed, and then he hurried around the farmhouse and up the rocky foothills toward his prize. Mr. Murphy stumbled and panted, trying to keep up, and the rest of us followed close behind.
By the time we reached the opening in the canvas wall, there was already a noisy commotion coming from within. Charlie overtook Murphy and hurried in after Lamb, imploring the men to remain civil. The rest of us pushed through the flap just as Hank tossed aside the shroud that had concealed the beast’s wings. The skeleton stood naked to the sunlight, Hank at its neck and Lamb cursing at him from across the ribs.
“Hah!” The trapper clapped his hands, beaming from ear to ear as he surveyed the whole creature.
Bradley picked up the discarded cloth and looked to Lamb for instructions. Lamb sighed and shook his head. “Oh, don’t bother.”
“This was one helluva big guy, wasn’t he?” Hudson’s voice broke through the moment. He gave an appreciative whistle. “I woulda loved to have a crack at him when he was alive. Not much trouble to track a dragon, I imagine—but the real trick woulda been bringin’ him down.” He surveyed the figure with an impressed nod as he pondered the notion.
I tried to set aside my own disbelief as I looked at the complete form. Every scientific instinct in me resisted picturing the beast as a fire-breathing monster from mythology. Before I had met Jackaby, I might have been as leery as Professor Lamb—history and fairy tales lived in opposite ends of my mental library—but the longer I looked, the more the shelves slid into one another, and the more possible the impossible became.
The figure was built a bit like a pterosaur or a modern bat, with wide wings in place of arms. The dragons in my storybooks had always had both, like angry lizards with wings tacked on for show. The bones before me were more biologically believable. The creature lay on its side with one wing spread out above its back, three long, thin arcs of bone reaching nearly to the tip of its tail. If the beast was fifty feet from end to end, it would have been at least a hundred from wingtip to wingtip. Given its sturdy hind legs and wicked talons, it was not hard to imagine the living creature scooping sheep from farms and doing battle with intrepid armor-clad knights.
“Yes, that looks about right,” said Jackaby, casually. “And it looks as though your missing bones have found their way home as well, Mr. Lamb. Nice to have this whole business sorted out so promptly, isn’t it?”