The Dinosaur Hunter by Homer Hickam Read Free Book Online

from under the back of his shirt onto his neck. I couldn’t see enough to tell what it was but I would have bet money it covered his entire back. Not that I cared, one way or the other. If a man wanted to look like Queequeg, so what? These days, people get tattoos for lots of reasons—fashion, boredom, in search of a personality, or for no reason at all.
    Edith Brescoe, aka Mayor Brescoe, aka the wife of the local BLM agent, aka my former paramour—I’ll get to that—rapped her knuckles on the table in front to get everybody’s attention. The gray suit she was wearing made her look crisp and efficient. She was kind of like that in bed, too. Not passionate. Not romantic. Crisp and efficient.
    â€œOK, people,” Edith said. “Quiet down, please.” She waved toward the back of the room. At first, I thought she was waving at me but it turned out to be two young men who brushed by me from the bar area. They were dressed in casual slacks, sports coat, and open neck shirts, which meant, pretty much, they weren’t from around these parts. Both were thin-faced, had the perfectly combed hair of Ivy Leaguers and, if I wasn’t mistaken, manicured nails. I instantly ID’d them as either property developers or environmentalists, both bad news for ranchers. The developers want to subdivide the ranches, the enviros want to knock down the fences and bring back the buffalo. Either way, the ranchers get screwed.
    The effete pair walked up front and stood smiling beside the mayor but before she could tell us who they were, Aaron Feldmark stood up and said, “I got something to tell everybody, Edith, and it’s damn important.”
    â€œCan it wait, Aaron?”
    â€œNo. I said it was important. I even put a ‘damn’ in front of it so you’d know.”
    Edith was unimpressed by Aaron’s cussing. “If you’ll indulge me for just a few minutes, I promise I’ll get back to you. I want to introduce these two gentlemen who just want to say a few words and be on their way. OK?”
    Aaron looked peeved but sat down and Edith went on. “Folks, this is Brian and Philip Marsh. They’re brothers and they represent an organization that works to provide habitat for threatened species.”
    There were groans from the audience because they now knew what they had—environmentalists. The pair shared glances, then Brian said, “Hello everybody. As I’m certain you all are aware, the Environmental Protection Agency has proposed regulations that will strictly control the ecological impact of the raising of large domestic ungulates. My brother and I are here to help you determine the statistical data necessary to comply when these regulations take effect. What we will do is survey your ranches so as to determine the methodology required to bring them to a functioning level of biological diversity. We will do this by determining the biomass consumed and created, including the carbon and methane exhalations from the extant population. Once this is accomplished, we will have the necessary data to provide you with an assessment of pollutants and a methodology for regulatory compliance. Are there any questions?”
    The ranchers reacted to this little speech with stunned silence until Sam said, “Yeah Let me make sure I understand. You make your little study and turn it over to the EPA, the government then swoops in, makes a declaration on how we’re a menace to society, and we get kicked off our land.” He pointed his finger at the two boys. “I tell you before I let you within a mile of my ranch, it’ll be over my dead body. I seen your black helicopters. Bring ’em on, buddy. I got some ordnance ready for ya!”
    Brian and Phillip looked at each other again, then Phillip said, “We don’t have any helicopters, sir.”
    Sam crossed his arms. “So you say.”
    â€œNo, really. I mean we just want