It looked lovely from the car, but Jennifer was not looking forward to forcing her way in to where the burial ground lay. In all probability, if it had been raided, the farmer on whose land it lay would not know. Out here, people often didn’t bother checking over rough parts of their wooded pasturage on foot, unless there was an animal missing. And even then—well, ranchers and farmers weren’t dumb; they quickly adopted every technological aid they could afford and get their hands on, and these days there were plenty of folks who checked over their herds from treetop level, in ultralight aircraft. You could even do some limited herding with an ultralight, she’d been told. The cattle didn’t much like their noisy two-stroke engines, and would often move away from a circling farmer.

I’ll ask at the house, she thought with resignation, as she approached the tiny village of Rose (population less than one hundred), but he’ll probably just tell me I’d better check for myself

Tom Ware was home, and getting ready to clean out his henhouse and spray for mites when she pulled into his driveway. And he said exactly what she thought he’d say.

“Shoot, haven’t been anywhere near that section since deer season,” he replied, his eyes crinkling up with worry. He pushed his hat back with his thumb, and squinted in the direction of the burial ground, grimacing. “I didn’t put any cows out there this year; figured I’d let the ground rest for a year. Shoot, the Ancestors aren’t gonna like it if someone’s been gettin’ in there.”

Ware was Osage, although his family had long since adopted Christianity. But even though he didn’t follow the Old Ways, he respected them, and respected Jennifer and Mooncrow. Part of the reason he’d bought the ridge when it came up for sale years ago was to protect the old burial ground. While Jennifer shrugged, and made an answering grimace, he seemed to be making up his mind about something. “Look,” he said, finally, “it’s not easy gettin’ back in there. I just broke a ridin’ mule last fall for deer huntin’. You want to saddle her up and use her, I reckon she could use the exercise.”

Well, that was going to make her job a hundred times easier!

“Thanks, Tom, I would really appreciate that,” she said gratefully. “Just tell me where the tack is, I’m not so green I can’t round her up and saddle her myself.”

Tom’s eyes crinkled up again, but this time with amusement. “I dunno about that, Miz Talldeer,” he said, clearly holding in chuckles at the idea of her bringing in his mule. “She hasn’t been under saddle much since fall.”