Trevor and Mitch made it to their truck and got in, but neither man spoke. Trevor’s anxiety was so high that his chest was tight, and he trembled slightly.
Mitch took both of Trevor’s hands in his, wanting to calm him.
“Trev, I can’t promise anything, but you know I’ll try with everything in me to find what we need. Treat this as a mission. As tough as it is, and as long as it’s been, we need to push our worries aside and focus.”
Trevor leaned towards Mitch and put an arm around his neck, pulling him as close as the car seats allowed.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just that I was already resigned to not winning this fight, and now there’s a chance I never thought possible. I know you’ll fight for us and our place.”
“I’m fighting for you, Trev.”
“Mitch, I love you, man. Don’t make this about payback. You’ve paid me back in ways you can’t imagine these last few years. You’re my soulmate, and everything is ours, not mine or yours. Let’s fight this together, for us.”
Mitch pulled back far enough to look into Trevor’s eyes. They were bright, on the verge of tears. His emotions were high, but looking into the face of his man, his lover… the most handsome man in his world… he saw Trevor’s anxiety fade. They smiled, and both their faces moved forward into a kiss.
Their hands moved to their faces, feeling the roughness of their cheeks, feeling the solidity of their strong bodies, and their fingers combed through their short hair. It wasn’t the time or the place, but they both got hard and knew it, and they chuckled as they separated.
Trevor whispered breathily, “Fuck. We gotta get home so I can love you like I want to.”
The corners of Mitch’s eyes creased with his smile, “I’m all for that, but you better get ready, because I want to do the same thing to you.”
As Trevor pulled out of the parking lot, starting the hour-long drive home, he said, “First thing in the morning, I’ll help you make a list of everything we need. You’re the lead on that, and I’ll be your second.”
Trevor, now that he felt better and more optimistic, changed the subject to what a great day it had been. Gripping Mitch’s thigh, he said, “Aside from all this, I’m still about to burst for you. You got a family, bro! You’re the grandson of the Governor of the Osage Nation. How fucking cool is that?”
Mitch’s smile said it all, and he said, “You saved me again, man, by convincing me to take that DNA test. That’s twice I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me shit. I already told you that. I’ve got a second family now, too. Didn’t you hear Geoffrey? I’m his grandson-in-law, or whatever the hell you call it.”
They kept talking like only best friends and lovers can, completely at ease with each other. Like little kids, as soon as Trevor parked the truck, by the time they entered the kitchen, their vests and shirts were off and their jeans unbuckled. Their excitement was obvious, straining against their boxers, eager to be released.
To honor the situation, they scampered naked to the cinderblock house, as soon as the warm air enveloped their bare skin, their cocks dripped. But rather than a hot and fast rut, they built up a slow head of steam. Trevor spent over an hour pleasuring Mitch, edging him until he dripped with sweat, loving to see his muscular body squirm and react in pleasure. Mitch loudly grunted out his orgasm, and Trevor went wide-eyed at the power of his load.
Mitch allowed himself to be soothed and cuddled for a short while before he turned the tables and coaxed a few loads out of his lover, using every trick and pushing every button he knew to take Trevor beyond his usual limit. They slept in the cinderblock house, relishing the heat and the memories of how their lives started together in the very bed they lay in.
Relaxed, they curled up in each other’s arms and drifted off to sleep before waking later for another round. Their morning sex was more their usual rut, and after they were satisfied, dripping with sweat, they walked naked between the cinderblock house and the main house to shower, get some coffee and breakfast, and start on the list of everything they needed to find the hidden burial site on the lake bed.
<><>
Between Home Depot, the pool store in Vinita, and Amazon Prime overnight delivery, Mitch assembled his makeshift equipment. Instead of diving with a tank, he jury-rigged a snorkel using a long hose so he could stay underwater as long as he remained within 50 feet of the boat. He modified a shop vac to run off a small generator and extended the intake and outtake hoses to fifty feet in both directions. He planned to suck the silt and dirt of the lake bed to keep the area as clear as possible. The lake stayed murky, but he would only be down ten to twelve feet, and although dim, the sunlight would be enough to see by. He had an underwater light just in case.
Trevor stocked the boat with buckets and nets to safely and securely hold anything they found, so it could be preserved for Dr. Degataka. The water would be cool at the bottom, and when he got too cold, blankets in the boat and sunshine would warm him up before going back down.
They loaded everything into their truck and took it to the original dock. Mitch stayed with everything while Trevor drove to Arrowhead to fetch the boat. Twenty minutes later, they loaded everything onboard and then headed down the channel to the original spot where they had found the bones.
Trevor watched Mitch strip down to his bathing suit. Even with the situation, he never tired of admiring Mitch’s tanned, muscled form.
“I rechecked everything. It’s not that deep so if anything goes wrong just hit the surface quick and I’ll get to you. I’ll keep the boat anchored, but I can drop that and use the trolling motor. If anything severe happens, just yank the hose.”
Mitch grinned and said, “This isn’t my first rodeo, bud, but thanks. I’m on top of it. I’d never have thought I’d be doing anything like this, but at least my training is useful for something important at this stage of my life.”
Trevor was serious when he said, “You know you could start a salvage business as a diver. People lose shit all the time – glasses, rings, phones… You could make a living doing that. Something to think about.”
“I’d rather work in the garden, make bread, can vegetables, and play with your dick.”
Trevor burst out laughing and said, “Fucker. Yeah, that sounds better to me, too. Good luck, Mitch. I’m praying you find something.”
“Praying to who?”
The timbre of Trevor’s voice showed Mitch his desperation when he quietly said, “Whoever’s listening.”
Mitch puckered his lips for a quick kiss before putting his snorkel in his mouth and rolling into the water. Trevor fed him the hoses, and when he was ready, Mitch tugged the vacuum hose twice, indicating for Trevor to turn it on.
Trevor’s stomach remained knotted, pleading with God or the Osage Spirits, or as he put it, “whoever was listening,” that Mitch would find what they needed.
Mitch stayed underwater for nearly two hours before surfacing, shivering as he climbed up the ladder by the motor. When he took off his mask and snorkel, he sat down while Trevor wrapped a blanket around him.
He said, “Nothing yet. I covered a fair bit of ground. Everything works better than I expected. I found a few more bones, but not what we need. I’ll warm up and head back down.”
“I’ll break out the sandwiches. I put in some sports drinks for extra carbs.”
After a few minutes, Mitch removed the blanket and allowed the sun to warm his skin directly. By the time he finished eating, he was ready to go down again. The afternoon dragged on, and Mitch had to come up every hour or so to warm up. Each man hid his discouragement from the other. By sundown, they called it a day.
Mitch said, “It could take a few days, Trev. We can’t let this get us down. I’m covering good ground, but it’s a bit like finding a needle in a haystack. We have two weeks, so let’s not worry yet.”
Packing up their gear, they made their way back to the house. They would need to refill the generator, resupply their food and drinks, and get fresh ice for the cooler.
The next day was the same. Trevor brought his earbuds to listen to music and pass the time. He occasionally glanced at the fish finder. When Mitch returned to the boat, he could see his image clearly on the screen for a few seconds as he passed underneath the boat.
The night of the second day, Mitch took out a piece of paper and some pencils and said, “Trev, help me out. I know you learned how to memorize terrain as a sniper. I did too. Let’s put our heads together.”
Trevor had a lightbulb moment and pulled up old maps of the area from before the lake was filled, as well as a current, detailed map of Duck Creek.
Trevor made a small circle and said, “This is where we found the bones. Here’s the bridge.”
Looking at the older maps, they studied the topography as best they could.
Mitch chuckled and said, “I wish Google Maps existed back then. It would make this easier.”
Mitch said, “We aren’t looking for a trail, but an isolated area where horses and people wouldn’t go without a purpose.”
Using their map skills and studying the images, Mitch said under his breath, “I think I’ve been looking in the wrong area.”
“What about the first bones we found? Wouldn’t everything be together?”
“Not necessarily. Bill said there might be multiple spots, maybe one per family. The bodies and items would be close but still separate.”
Trevor said, “So what we’re looking for might not even be on the lake bed. It might have been destroyed during the bridge's construction.”
“Could be, but I think someone would have noticed the bones. Or maybe they saw them and didn’t say anything to prevent an issue.”
Frustrated, Trevor said, “We’re starting to 'what if' ourselves. We can’t chase rabbits. I believe what we’re looking for is still on the lake bed. My best guess is these two spots.”
He drew two ellipses, angled out from where they found the first bones.
“Both spots are slightly closer to the shore in opposite directions. Most heavy boat traffic stays in the center of the channel, but the areas to the sides are less disturbed, so there’s a greater chance of whatever’s there staying covered for so long.”
Mitch nodded, “I agree. Tomorrow I’ll start with the area furthest from the bridge.”
<><>
The next two days brought no results, and they were gradually losing hope. Trevor wrapped him in a blanket and rubbed his back and shoulders, trying to warm him up.
“It’s okay, Mitch. This was a long shot at best. I wanted it to work as much as you. I don’t know if I have it in me to restart my life a third time.”
“What are you saying?”
Trevor let out a heavy sigh, “I don’t know, man. I’m sorry. I feel like I’ve failed Granny and Grandpop.”
Mitch pulled Trevor into a tight embrace and said, “This is outside our control, Trev. It sucks. It makes me question why we both spent our lives defending a country that would let something like this happen.”
“Me too. Let’s head back. Tomorrow we need to start our plan to pack everything. We’ll need to find a new place.”
Trevor pulled up the anchor and the trolling motor. Duck Creek was quiet, and the sunset was beautiful. The slight breeze felt good on his skin in the setting sunlight. He looked at Mitch, his man, handsome beyond words, and an epiphany hit him.
“You know, Mitch, all I really need is you. It just hit me. I’ll miss this place so much, but as long as I have you, I’ll be okay.”
Tears spilled down his face, and Mitch moved to him and cupped his face.
“I promised to save you this time. I’m sorry I couldn’t. I’ll make it up to you somehow, Trev. I love you. You’re my world, man.”
Their powerful arms held them together. The hug wasn’t sexual, but deeply emotional, sharing their love, strength, and support, holding their embrace as the boat slowly drifted in the breeze.
After a minute, Trevor pulled back and said, “Let’s head out.”
As he sat in the driver’s seat, the fish finder chirped, and he glanced at it.
“Holy shit, Mitch, look!”
Neither man had ever seen such a large fish displayed. It had a broad head with the body tapering quickly in a triangular shape. It looked like a huge flathead catfish, but it had to be nearly three feet long. There were flatheads that large near the damn, but Trevor had never heard of one that size anywhere near Duck Creek.
Suddenly, Mitch said, “Drop the anchor. I’m going back down.”
They looked at one another. Neither one wanted to say what they thought out loud. They found the first bones after digging up a burrowed catfish. What they saw could have been a coincidence, but neither man believed it was. Not daring to believe it was a sign, Trevor lowered the anchor slowly, so as not to disturb the silty bottom, and the boat came to a stop. The sun was below the horizon, and the clouds were still red from the sunset, but there wasn’t enough light to see by.
Trevor said, “The light is charged up. Get ready, and I’ll get the generator started. We don’t have a lot of fuel, maybe another twenty minutes.”
Mitch expressed a determination Trevor rarely saw, and he said, “I’ll make it count. All we need is something to prove this is the spot, and we can come back in the morning.”
By the time Trevor reconnected the hoses and had the generator running, Mitch wore his mask, snorkel, and fins. Rather than roll off, he lowered himself more gently. Trevor handed him the light, and the water lit up around the boat when he turned it on.
<><>
Rather than a cold ball of anxiety in his stomach, a comforting warmth enveloped Mitch. The peace he found living with Trevor in Duck Creek Landing and reconnecting with Geoffrey, Susan, and his family suffused him. Shining the light, he swam down twelve feet to the lake bed, and as he moved forward, it wasn’t one large catfish but a small swarm of them, and they scattered. He had never heard of catfish schooling like that.
Their movement stirred up the bottom, and he used the hose from the shop vac to slowly clear the area. Once he could see better, he began to go deeper. The shop vac worked better than he expected the entire time, and in a few minutes, he had a large indentation that went down a foot. He went deeper and began to worry that the generator would run out of fuel.
Colors were subdued in the light, but he uncovered something hard and round, about the size of a large cantaloupe. Gently, he slid his fingers underneath it and lifted it out of the mud. A clay pot rested in his hand, with remnants of crude symbols painted on its surface. His heart leapt in his chest. A number of flint arrowheads also showed in the silty mud around the pot.
This has to be it! Trevor!
Mitch’s heart beat in his chest as he carefully returned to the boat. There was barely any sunlight left, and the first stars were starting to show high in the sky. Taking off his mask and snorkel, he exclaimed, “Trev! I found something. I don’t know how fragile this is, so handle with care.”
He lifted the clay pot, and Trevor took it, placing it in one of the buckets. As excited as he was to find out what Mitch discovered, he helped Mitch get back into the boat and wrapped him in a blanket. Without the sunlight to warm him, he shivered. Trevor copied the GPS coordinates from the fish finder so they could return to the exact location tomorrow.
Mitch couldn’t help the shit eating grin on his face as he said, “Fuckin’ A, Trev. I think we found it! The catfish led me to the exact spot. It wasn’t a big one; it was a school of them.”
Trevor’s eyes widened as he said, “Catfish don’t school like that.”
Mitch said, “I know. It’s like they pointed to where I needed to be. Fuck, me, Trev, this is weird.”
“I don’t care how weird it is. Maybe someone or something was listening after all.”
Excitedly, Mitch said, “I’m sure there’s more. I dug down a little over two feet to find this. I can go deeper tomorrow. I’ll order a wetsuit tonight on Amazon and have it overnighted so I can stay down longer.”
“Should we call Dr. Degataka?”
Mitch said, “Let’s wait until we uncover more. I want to be absolutely sure.”
Trevor had a sudden thought and he said, “We have to record everything. Order an underwater camera and I’ll get a tripod setup for the boat. We have to document everything so we have proof and they can’t say we faked everything.”
<><>
There was no reason for Mitch or Trevor to be suspicious, so they didn’t notice a man hiding off the road, watching them with binoculars. Their voices echoed across the water, and he heard enough to know they had found something. Making a phone call, he got in his truck and drove away.
<><>
Their excitement was high, but like any mission, they packed everything for cleaning the next day. Their stomachs rumbled with hunger as they moved. Unable to resist, their gazes kept drifting back to the clay pot resting in soft netting inside one of the buckets.
An hour later, they arrived at the house and started making dinner, chatting excitedly. While Mitch ordered the extra gear, Trevor cooked a small roast in the pressure cooker. Mitch had fresh rolls in the bread basket, which they slathered with butter, and they consumed the entire meal, using the rolls to soak up any gravy on their plates. After dinner, Mitch did some Google searches about clay pots and Indian burial practices.
“Damn, Trev, check this out. It’s kind of like ancient Egypt. Osage burial practices included placing weapons and food with the bodies so they could hunt and live in the spirit world. They stored chickens or other fowl in clay pots for food. I bet if Dr. Degataka X-rays that pot, it will show some kind of bird carcass.”
<><>
Trevor and Mitch both woke at the same time. Instincts they hadn’t utilized in years came to the surface of their minds - something felt wrong. The clock read 3:08 AM. In the stillness of the night, they both heard someone trying to be quiet outside the house.
Trevor pulled the covers over their heads and whispered, “Get your pistol and scout. I’ll get mine and get to the kitchen. Hand signals only until we find out what’s going on.”
Their training, deeply embedded, became clear and present as though they hadn’t spent years outside active duty. Still naked, they both silently rolled out of bed, retrieved their weapons, and Mitch moved down the hallway. From the living room, he was able to glance through the side of the blinds and saw two men crouched outside the cellar doors with bolt cutters.
Fuck! This can’t be a coincidence. Within hours of finding evidence, someone shows up.
Mitch berated himself for not thinking to be more careful. There wasn’t much they could do to hide their activity, but they should have been more situationally aware. He and Trevor rendezvoused in the kitchen at the door that led to the basement.
There was some ambient light in the kitchen from the light under the microwave, and they stayed on the floor. Mitch indicated two assailants and mimed bolt cutters, pointing at the cellar door.
Trevor signaled: Move into the cellar, disarm, and defend.
<><>
Josh and Brady always worked together. They were self-trained, and to the average person, good fighters and excellent marksmen. Their job was simple: break in, set a fire, and make sure whoever was in the house didn’t make it out. Someone wanted the occupants dead and was paying an exorbitant amount of cash to get the job done.
Wrapping the sturdy lock in rags, they silently cut it. They sprayed the hinges with WD-40 and waited a minute before opening the doors slowly as a precaution against squeaky hinges.
The two mercenaries wore night-vision headgear to see into the cellar's darkness, and nimbly descended the steps with guns drawn. As soon as Josh and Brady stood in the cellar, the overhead lights came on. The lights weren’t particularly bright, but their headgear amplified the light, blinding them and making them cry out.
Trevor and Mitch fired, aiming at their guns to disarm them. At such close range, their shots were deadly accurate. Sadly for Josh and Brady, their trigger fingers left their bodies, staying with the guns as they flew out of their hands. Almost before they could react, they were knocked out by the two former Marines.
Looking at the two unconscious men, Trevor let out a frustrated, “Fuck!”
Mitch said, “I’m sorry for not thinking of being more careful. With everything at stake, I should have thought about checking for surveillance.”
“I didn’t think of it either, so don’t beat yourself up. I can’t believe someone wants us out of the way so badly. Be careful, but check to make sure there’s no one else while I tie these guys up and call 911.”
Mitch went back through the house to get outside. After the gunshots, if there were more accomplices, the cellar doors would be too dangerous to use. Exiting on the far side of the house, he found their vehicle and quickly surmised it was just the two of them. He found gas cans and knew immediately what they planned to do, and his blood ran cold, not in fear, but in anger.
He quickly moved back to Trevor, who was still on the phone with the dispatcher, “There are two men in need of medical assistance.”
After a slight pause, he continued, “They’re both missing their trigger fingers.”
After another pause, he continued, “Their fingers are still in the guns we shot out of their hands when we disarmed them.”
Sounding irritated, he said angrily, “Just get someone here, dammit. You can play twenty questions in person. Someone broke into our house with the intent to cause us harm. We stopped them without killing them.”
He hung up the phone, and Mitch angrily said, “They have a ton of gas, Trev. They were going to torch the place and us with it.”
Trevor knelt and slapped Josh’s face a few times to wake him up. As Josh came too, he panicked and tried to pull away, but he was bound hand and foot and gagged.
Trevor’s voice quivered in controlled anger as he removed Josh’s gag.
“Who are you fucker, and why were you planning on burning our place down with us in it?”
Josh tried to remain stoically silent, but when Trevor pointed to Josh’s gun on the cellar floor with his finger still wrapped around the trigger, he balked.
“Before the Sheriff’s Department shows up, I can add your dick to that little pile. Tell me.”
Trevor put his gun against Josh’s nuts and said, “I guess you won’t be needing your balls either, if you don’t have a dick.”
Josh passed out, and Trevor lowered his head, intensely saying, “Fuck!”
“You weren’t really gonna shoot his dick off, were you?”
“No. It sounded cool though, didn’t it?”
Mitch actually chuckled and said, “Let me get us some clothes before anyone shows up.”
<><>
Deputy Chet Barlett arrived first, lights and siren blaring. Trevor and Mitch placed their guns on one of the canning shelves, but left Josh and Brady’s guns where they landed. Chet knew that Trevor and Mitch were friends with the Sheriff, and his first concern, after he saw the two fingerless men securely bound and gagged, was to ask, “Are you two okay?”
Mitch said, “Better than those two shitheads.”
“The ambulance should be right behind me. You want to tell me what happened?”
Chet pulled out his notepad and started making notes for his report, as Mitch succinctly recited all the details from the moment they woke up. The ambulance arrived while they were talking. A sleepy Sheriff Barklay arrived as the two men were loaded into the ambulance. Noticing their bandaged hands and the restraints, he moved past to find Chet, Trevor, and Mitch.
“What in tarnation happened?”
“Before we repeat everything, there’s something you and Chet need to see, Sheriff.”
Trevor and Mitch led them to the pickup, which contained multiple large gas containers and a box of flares. Trevor retold the events, and as he finished, Mitch said, “Sheriff, I’m sure they planned to torch our place with us in it. You’ll have to get a confession out of them to prove it, but why would they have this much gas, with flares to start a fire at a distance?”
The icy-calm Trevor had maintained started to fade as a deep-seated anger rose to the surface, and in a cold voice, he said, “Sheriff… Mitch and I found something today we think will prove the existence of an Osage burial grounds under the lake near the Duck Creek bridge. It’s no secret that Dr. Degataka requested the water levels be lowered again to search.”
Mitch interjected, “Since we saw you last, we discovered a few things, Sheriff. Governor Geoffrey Strong Bear is my grandfather. Financial and political pressures on the University forced them to stop looking for the burial site. Trev and I said we’d search. We’ve been out there for a week and, earlier today, finally found something. We’re planning to go back tomorrow, and I’m confident we’ll uncover the proof.”
Trevor picked up the conversation, saying, “These two shitheads must have been surveilling us. We never imagined this level of corruption or that anyone would go so far as to try to kill us to keep the resort from being built. If we don’t find any evidence in less than two weeks, we lose everything, so we’re down to the wire. If we uncover what I think we will, Mitch’s grandfather can declare the area sacred Osage land, and stop it all.”
Sheriff Barklay shook his head, “You two sure ended up in the middle of a mess. I’ll have Chet stay the rest of the night and have another Deputy stationed at the bridge tomorrow while you look, just in case. I don’t think anyone would be stupid enough to try anything again after tonight, but with the amount of money involved, if whoever’s behind it is desperate enough, there’s no telling. I know you’re under the gun time-wise, so do what you need to do tomorrow, but as soon as you can, I need you to come in to file a full report. I can put it off for a day or two at most to give you a little time.”
Trevor said, “Thanks, Sheriff. We appreciate it.”
“Try to get a good night's rest.”
The Sheriff looked at Mitch and smiled, “So Geoffrey Strong Bear is your granddad? Don’t that beat all?”
<><>
When the adrenaline finally wore off, Trevor and Mitch lay in bed, holding each other, anticipating some type of PTSD response, but neither of them had one. They reacted as soldiers, but they were two men defending their property. They fell asleep but woke early.
Despite the seriousness of the previous night and the importance of discovering the burial site, they smiled and gave each other a good morning kiss.
Trevor said, “You know, you were pretty hot last night.”
Mitch chuckled, “You perv… But I gotta admit you were, too. I’m glad we didn’t have boners while we shot those guys. That wouldn’t look good in the report.”
As their hands started roaming, Trevor locked eyes with Mitch and said, “No matter the outcome of all this, I’m glad you’re with me. I wasn’t lying when I said you’re all I need.”
Mitch firmly gripped Trevor’s erection and said, “You’re all I need too.”
He couldn’t stop his grin, and in a Steve Martin impression from “The Jerk,” he said, “I only need this.” Then, moving his hands to Trevor’s balls, he said, “And these.” Then he tweaked Trevor’s nipples, “And these.”
Trevor couldn’t help but laugh, and he said, “You fucker, “as he kissed Mitch to shut him up. Their love for each other filled them, and fueled their desire, and they got each other off before going into the kitchen to make coffee and breakfast.
Throwing on some shorts, Trevor walked out to find a sleepy Chet in his squad car and invited him in for coffee and breakfast. To not freak him out, they put on t-shirts and jeans.
By 10:00 am, Chet’s replacement showed up, and an Amazon Prime truck delivered Mitch’s wetsuit and the underwater camera. By 11:00 am, Trevor retrieved their boat from Arrowhead and picked up Mitch and their supplies. Once in place, Trevor dropped the anchor and waved to the Deputy stationed at the bridge to keep an eye on them.
<><>
The following afternoon, two black Escalades pulled up in the grassy driveway of Trevor and Mitch’s house at Duck Creek Landing. Trevor and Mitch anxiously awaited their arrival and went out to greet them.
Dr. Degataka and his graduate students, along with his department head, got out of one Escalade, and Governor Geoffrey Strong Bear, his daughter Susan, and the eldest Osage tribal member got out of the other.
Mitch relished the hugs from his new family, who included Trevor, and they shook hands with all the members of the University Archaeology Department. Trevor wasn’t sure how to address the Tribal Elder, who introduced himself as “John Eagle Talon.”
Geoffrey took Mitch’s hands and said, “Thank the spirits you and Trevor are alright. I pray that what you tell me is true. I want to know the story of how you found everything.”
“You won’t believe how much I’ve uncovered already, Grandfather. There’s much more, too, but this should prove everything we need.”
Excitedly, Dr. Degataka hurried past the cinderblock house toward the main house, along the path to the double doors that led down to the sub-basement. The cellar wasn’t large, but everyone fit inside, and their eyes widened at the display of artifacts spread across the chicken-wire racks normally used for drying potatoes.
Nearly two dozen clay jars, covered with symbols, hundreds of arrowheads, silver rings and turquoise-inlaid necklaces, scraps of what once were leather ceremonial garments and shields with horsetail braids, and more skulls, were spread out on the rack. Everything was in poor condition from being waterlogged and submerged for so long, but the mud had insulated some of it, and everything was recognizable.
Dr. Degataka’s first response was, “Oh, my. I never dreamed….”
Smiling, Mitch repeated his comment to Geoffrey, “This is only the tip of the iceberg. Once I figured out the pattern of how things were organized, this is just one segment of a much larger site.”
Turning to Rich and Anetta, Dr. Degataka said, “Please get the cases. We need to pack as much as we can, and come back for the rest.”
Turning to Geoffrey, “We will analyze everything, Geoffrey, but I am confident this sample will confirm the burial site beyond doubt. X-rays of the pottery will verify it, but all the other pieces support our claim.”
Geoffrey put an arm around Mitch and said, “Well done, Mitch. You as well, Trevor. After the attempt on your lives, I was sure of what you would find. As soon as Bill confirms everything, I will call the Governor and make our claim. At the very least, it will delay everything, but the people behind the resort will bring powerful lawyers to contest our claim.”
Trevor said, “We recorded everything, Sir, to document the authenticity of uncovering everything. We didn’t want to leave any doubt or open any claims for them to say we planted the artifacts.”
Mitch couldn’t help himself. He had debated whether to tell Geoffrey how they found the spot, but he knew he had to be honest.
“Grandfather, the fish led us to the spot. Catfish don’t school, but they gathered close and we saw them on the fish finder. They looked like one large flathead on the screen, but when I went back down there were dozens of them, grouped together, over the spot I found the first jar.”
Geoffrey and Susan looked at each other, then at Mitch, and smiled, fully believing he had been guided to the spot.
Trevor said, “We were so discouraged, and it was getting dark after a long day. We had been searching for almost a week. I prayed to whoever was listening, but I lost hope. I heard the fish finder chirp, and I couldn’t believe what was on the screen. The whole thing still unsettles me a bit.”
Geoffrey smiled and put a hand on Trevor’s shoulder, saying, “The fight is only starting, but I believe this is one we can win. Continue your prayers to your grandparents and ‘whoever is listening.’ Your words have been heard and honored.”
Rich and Anetta came back with the traveling cases used to transport delicate artifacts. Under Dr. Degataka’s supervision and assistance, they loaded everything Mitch had brought.
Mitch asked, “Do you want me to continue? Or hold off?”
Dr. Degataka said, “Hold off for now. Geoffrey, could you call the Sheriff and ask them to keep the site under observation? It wouldn’t take much to ruin what is there.”
Trevor said, “Sheriff Barklay is a good man. I’m sure he’ll help if he’s able. If he can’t, Mitch and I can camp our butts by the bridge. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure this plan works.”
<><>
A few hours later, Mitch kneaded dough to make yeast rolls for their dinner. To celebrate the potential solution, Trevor pulled out the special Ribeye’s they had cut at the butcher. Mitch planned to make his special mashed potatoes as a treat, rather than baked potatoes.
Trevor sat shirtless at the kitchen table, watching Mitch, enamored by the muscles in his arms and back as he kneaded the dough. Waiting patiently, he knew as soon as the dough had to rise, Mitch would have an hour, and he planned to use it effectively.
They chatted excitedly about the day, how great it was to see Geoffrey and Susan again, and that the Sheriff agreed to monitor the area by the bridge. When Mitch was done, he washed his hands and as he toweled them dry, he turned to see Trevor looking at him. Something about his expression caught Mitch off guard. He saw deep, powerful emotion not only about the day but specifically for him.
Trevor held out an arm, beckoning Mitch to come to him. He did, and Trevor pulled Mitch against him, pressing his face against Mitch’s chest, inhaling his scent. His big, strong arms were firm, enfolding his man.
Trevor looked up, and with tears in his eyes, he said, “I know we’re gonna win this. You saved me, just like you said you would. I had lost hope, not in you, but in finding what we needed, but it’s going to work out. Everything these last few months has been crazy, and I couldn’t have gotten through it without you.”
Mitch wrapped Trevor in his arms, reciprocating the hug and enjoying the sensation of Trevor’s warm breath on his bare skin.
“We made it together. We’re a team. I love you, Trev, with everything in me.”
“Even more than those yeast rolls?”
Mitch burst out laughing and said, “Fucker. It’s close, but you win.”
“We don’t have time to go out to the cinderblock house, but come with me to the bedroom. I want to get you off before dinner.”
“Only if I can return the favor. After dinner, we can keep going. We both have a lot of pent-up emotion to work out of our systems.”
<><>
One Month Later
Trevor and Mitch won their fight, and their story garnered nationwide attention. They pissed off some powerful people, but under the protection of Geoffrey Strong Bear and the Osage Nation, there could be no retaliation.
The land value fell to its lowest point ever, which sparked an idea in Trevor.
“Mitch, we’ll have to ask, but there’s a ton of money in the GoFundMe account. If the people who donated are okay with it, let’s buy the land around here.”
Mitch shrewdly said, “Something tells me you have a plan.”
"My plan since I arrived here was to rebuild. At first, it was just my small piece of land. With your help, I succeeded. We succeeded. But what if we could restore all of Duck Creek Landing? Fix the dock, clear out those ugly boat storage sheds, and tidy up all the run-down lots. We can sell them to retirees or Vets who want a peaceful life like we do."
Mitch said, “I’ll talk to Geoffrey and Susan. Maybe some of my cousins could help. I’m not interested in running the dock, and I don’t think you are either, but maybe a few of them might be. They could rent boat slips, run a small gas station for boat traffic in this area, and possibly even open a café. This place is somewhat well-known after all the publicity, and some people will want to visit.”
Trevor continued, “We need to get a jump on it. Call Geoffrey and let’s drive over to see him and Susan and talk it over as soon as he has the time.”
Both men had a spark in their eyes, a restored optimism that had been dimmed by recent events.
Mitch grinned and asked, “What do you think your grandparents would say if we really brought all of Duck Creek back? If we can pull it off, it will be like walking back in time, and let people live like you did with them when you were a kid. When the world seemed a better place.”
<><>
Trevor’s vision, backed by Mitch and his new family heritage, came to fruition. Three years later, as Trevor moored their boat and he and Mitch walked up to the house, he remembered the spot he saw his grandfather limping, a few months before he died.
He stopped at that very place, and Mitch almost bumped into him. Seeing a wetness in his partner's eyes, he knew something was happening. A warm feeling ran through Trevor as he stood, and he smelled his grandfather in the breeze. He remembered Grandpop’s distinct smell after he had been out in the heat all day. It was the smell of sunshine and manliness, and he could almost hear Grandpop’s voice.
You done good, Squirt. Granny and I are proud of you.
Mitch asked, “Are you okay?”
Trevor stopped himself before saying: I need to tell Granny we caught a mess of Crappie for dinner tonight.
Instead, he smiled contentedly and said, “Never better, Mitch. Let’s get this mess of Crappie cleaned for dinner tonight.”
The End
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