"Eric Flint & Ryk E. Spoor - Boundary" - читать интересную книгу автора (Flint Eric)

they’d both been undergraduates, Jackie and Joe had been casually “sorta-dating” for one
summer. Her pet nickname for him had probably seemed cute then. Now, of course, it was
inescapable, though he wouldn’t put up with anyone else using it.

Laughing, Helen nodded. “As always. Seriously, I thought we might try that area a bit
north of the last dig. The indications we had seem to show that some of the random fossils
come from that area in the runoff.”

“You stop by Jeff’s?” Helen wasn’t sure, but Jackie’s gaze seemed somewhat more intense
than usual.

Jeff Little owned a souvenir shop in the nearest town, and specialized in buying and selling
fossils from the local rockhounds and collectors. If a new group of fossils started showing up,
he was generally the first to know.

“Yes, we did. He didn’t seem to have much new, except one bone that might—might—have
come from a dromeasaur or related species.”

There was no mistaking the gleam in Jackie’s eyes now. “Well, Jeff doesn’t get all the good
stuff. After the time I’ve spent working with you, I can spot the real winners out in the field if I
run across them. Most of that stuff he gets is junk.”

“Sure, you showed me your better pieces last year, too. Saves us having to bargain with
Little for them.”

“I’ve got something really nifty this year, I think. Came down in the year’s runoff, and I
think I’ve got a good idea where it came from. Be right back.” Jackie trotted upstairs to fetch
her prize.

Jackie’s mother had come in from the kitchen by then. “Would you like some lemonade?”
she asked. Then, gestured at the couches and armchairs scattered about the sprawling
ranch-style living room. “And why don’t you two sit down a spell before you go out there to
start your digging?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Joe said, sighing histrionically. “A chair that isn’t bouncing up and
down will be a comfort.”

“Cut it out, Joe!”
 Jackie came clattering down the stairs, holding something behind her. “Ready?”

“Let’s see it.”



A few minutes later, Helen looked up. “Joe, take a look at this.”

Joe put down the lemonade Mrs. Secord had handed him, rose from the couch and joined
Helen in staring at the object.

It resembled nothing so much as a large blackish shoehorn—Helen estimated it at around