“I thought about sticking her in Water and Natural Resources or Tort Litigation, but I thought she might turn me down.” There was a pause. “Anyway, I like the idea of the two of you locking horns every once in a blue moon. You got a number I can call?”

I recited Cady’s cell phone number and listened as the attorney general scribbled it down. “I should warn you, she’s kind of a pain in the ass.”

“Like her old man?” He laughed. “Get back to your auction, and I hope you win your dinosaur. Save Jen.” The phone went dead, and I turned to find my oldest and dearest friend next to my elbow.

“What did the AG want?”

“Cady.”

He thought about it and smiled, giving me the impression that he’d already figured that was what Joe Meyer had had in mind—the Bear, always five moves ahead. “Hmm . . . It would be nice to have the two of them nearer.”

I hung the phone up and leaned against the jutting jaw of the cash register. “I guess Cheyenne is nearer. Don’t know, Henry, she’s so used to the big city, and Cheyenne is just Des Moines with a rodeo.”

He patted my shoulder as he moved past with another beer and a glass of wine, picked up the remote from the counter, and turned up the volume on the TV. “Trust me, she’ll be fine.”

The dulcet tones of the auctioneer, with his prim and proper British—possibly not so prim and proper Australian—accent filled the crowded confines of the Red Pony, and the crowd grew quieter. “And here she is, the star of the evening, the undisputed queen of the Cretaceous period and the most recognizable dinosaur in popular culture. Jen, as she is affectionately known, was found in Absaroka County, Wyoming, by a young woman named Jennifer Watt and her dog, Brody, and from these humble beginnings has been determined to be the largest and most intact specimen of her kind ever to be discovered.”

Lucian looked across the bar at me. “Did that limey just call us humble?”

“I believe he did.”

“Cocksucker.”

Ruby reached past McGroder and swatted him. “Watch your language.”

The auctioneer continued. “The apex predator of her time, Jen is over forty-two feet in length and weighed close to eight metric tons. By far the largest carnivore in her environment, Jen is, simply put, priceless. But we will attempt to put a price upon her this evening—and the opening bid is—”

The Bear reached up to the top shelf again, and I was getting a bit worried about Lucian’s intake when I noticed he plucked the phallic-looking original eighteenth-century decanter-style bottle from the good-stuff shelf, the legendary AsomBroso Reserva Del Porto, instead of the Pappy’s. There was only one person I knew of who drank from the thousand-dollar bottle of tequila, and I watched as the Bear walked to the end of the bar and passed the tumbler, which went from patron to patron to where Omar Rhoades, talking on his cell phone, sat at a table by himself with his leg propped up on a stack of beer crates.

I waved, and he gestured back with the expensive liquor and a raised fist, mouthing the words “Save Jen.”

“Who will start?” The auctioneer smiled and casually mentioned a figure. “One million, two hundred and fifty thousand?” He pointed at an individual in the audience who raised a paddle. “One million, two hundred and fifty thousand—good evening Mr. Gallmeister, good to have you with us.”

I grumbled. “Smithsonian.”

Those in close proximity nodded.

The auctioneer quickly pointed again. “One million, three hundred thousand, Mr. Matteson . . .”

“Field Museum, Chicago. I guess they want a pair.”

He pointed again, this time to the gallery at the side. “One million, three hundred and fifty thousand.”

Ruby arched an eyebrow and asked out of the side of her mouth, “So, who gets the money?”

I leaned against the bar and helped Henry by pulling out a few beers and handing them to the patrons as I turned to my dispatcher/receptionist/moral compass. “Eva and Taylor—the ranch goes to the Cheyenne Conservancy, with Enic having a lifetime interest according to Danny’s desires.”

“Where are the young lovers?”

“I’d imagine seeing if being rich is going to allow for their relationship. I guess after the video established sole ownership of Jen to the Lone Elk family, they decided to continue giving it a try.” I gestured toward the millionaire in the corner. “And Omar decided to not press charges against Enic for shooting him in the leg and the helicopter in the rotors.” I sipped my beer. “We’re a forgiving folk, here in Wyoming.”

“And Randy?”

“Not that forgiving—he goes to the big house in Rawlins. He was the one who convinced Taylor and Jen to run—he’s also the one who destroyed the computer in hopes of getting rid of the video of his father at the meetings, and it was his blood at the rock shop.”

Ruby shook her head. “But how did he get to the point of killing his own father, Walter? It‘s a part of this business that we’re in that I don’t think I’ll ever understand.”

I nodded my head and drew my face in close to hers in a show of solidarity. “Danny was a drunk for a lot of his life, a charming, funny and entertaining drunk, but a drunk nonetheless. That kind of thing can do things to families that can’t ever be repaired. In the long run, Danny sobered up and became a good man, but the damage was already done and Randy just didn’t trust him.”

We glanced up at the TV as the auctioneer continued taking bids like picking posies. “Three million, two hundred and fifty thousand to Ms. Weisheit.”

They all looked at me. “Fernbank Museum in Atlanta.”

The auctioneer pointed at another paddle. “Three million, five hundred thousand to Mr. Baumann.”

A cheer rose up from the crowd in the bar, but the bidding was off and running again. “Three million, seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars to Mr. Aslanides . . .”

I continued my running commentary. “Iziko Museum in Cape Town.”

Lucian shook his head as the bidding continued at a heated pace. “Poor ol’ Danny.”

“Yep.”

“So, who was out there wandering around the place that everybody kept seeing?”

“Maybe Enic . . .” I thought about the warnings I’d received in my dreams from the eyeless man and thumbed the Mallo Cup card in my pocket. You will stand and see the good, but you will also stand and see the bad—the dead shall rise and the blind will see. “But then again, maybe not.”

There was another roar as Dino-Dave and the Wyoming contingency made their last-gasp effort in obtaining Jen. “Six million, two hundred thousand to Mr. Baumann.”

I switched to the bar side but was distracted by two individuals at the end of the counter. I knew their plebian habits and limited income, so I fished two Rainiers out of the cooler and set the beer in front of them. “Who’s minding the store?”

Saizarbitoria smiled and held up the pager that connected our 911 system to the carrier. “I’ve got the rock. We just stopped by to take in the action for a little bit and get a vote.” He gestured beside him to his companion.

I glanced at Double Tough and slid down, leaning in to see the newest addition in the available light, stunned that it was an exact replica of the real deal in the other socket. “Good job, troop. Vic would be proud.”

There was a tap on my shoulder, and I turned to see Henry, this time holding his cell phone out to me. “You are popular this evening.”

There was a resounding booing of displeasure as the bidding continued and the hopes of keeping Jen in Absaroka County were dashed by another bid from the back of the TV house. “Six million, three hundred thousand.”

I took the phone and cupped it to my face, knowing full well who it was. “Hey, punk.”

“I just got offered a job.”

I did my best to sound nonchalant. “Really?”

She sounded alarmingly like her mother. “Nice try.”

There was another roar as the crowd began enjoying the Bread and Circus of the overt bidding, figuring that if Jen wasn’t coming home to Wyoming, the bidders would have to pay the steepest price.