The Other Crowd Read Online Free PDF Page A

then did it ultimately belong to?
    Then again, she didn’t notice any find tables or black rubber buckets with bits and shards of pottery. Must be inside the canvas tent.
    The dig was flat and bare and surprisingly clean of spoil dirt. The turf had been cleared away from a forty-by-forty-foot section beside the tent. The second camp was about two hundred yards to the north just over a ridge that was too high to be one of the infamous potato ridges still remarkable from the nineteenth century. It was far enough away so one couldn’t shout back and actually hear what had been said, but close enough for curiosity.
    Beyond the ridge she spied a truck, similar to the vehicle that had almost driven them off the road. It looked like a delivery truck, though. She figured it must contain supplies or could even function as a mobile office for the dig director.
    The situation was odd. Digs didn’t split up like this unless they were large and initial investigation proved a major feature had been uncovered like an entire castle wall or even a village.
    If they’d only uncovered a spearhead, Annja couldn’t imagine why the split. Unless artifacts had been sighted in both locations. Still, it would be difficult to get permission from the county for such a large operation.
    A jawbone cracked. A male groan was followed by a litany of Irish oaths and promises to do something nasty to the other guy’s mother.
    “All right, boys.” Annja stepped close enough to feel the wind of one of their punches. “Fun and games is done. Time to get back to work.”
    “You heard the lady,” Daniel growled from his position, bent over one man and clasping him about the waist, while the other twisted his leg to topple the threesome. “Feck!”
    The dark-haired man was the first to pop up from the tangle. Hopping from foot to foot, his fists ready for a defensive swing, he smiled a million-dollar blast of white that made Annja do a double take. Relinquishing his fight stance, he smoothed a palm over his muddied abs and gave her the once-over. A preening look. She straightened her shoulders.
    The man was not ugly at all. Sometimes her assignments really were easy on the eyes. And she hadn’t bothered to check the mirror after arriving at the airport. Her face must be coated with road dirt like Eric’s.
    “A lady stepping up to the fight?” he volleyed at her. “Fancy a tussle with the boys, then?”
    “That was a tussle?” She lifted a brow, noting the scrape on his shoulder. “Was the bloodshed worth it? What were you fighting about?”
    The other guy, whose lip was cracked and bleeding, struggled from Daniel’s grip, shook himself off and puffed up his chest. He wore a dark blue muscle shirt streaked with dirt. “Ma’am.”
    He’d apparently taken a clue from the dark-haired man and didn’t want to be shown up in manners. Annja discreetly rubbed a hand along her cheek. A fine sheen of dirt smudged her fingers.
    “It’s Annja,” she offered, holding out a hand to shake, and receiving a slap of mud-caked sweaty palm. “Annja Creed.”
    “Annja’s here to do a shoot for her television program,” Daniel offered with a swipe of his palm across his sweaty hair. Retrieving his hat from the mud, he placed it on his head and gave it a pat. A chunk of dirt landed his shoulder.
    “Absolutely not,” the militant one spat out.
    “Cool your jets, Slater,” the brunette said. “Let’s offer Miss Creed our nicest welcome before you start slinging mud at her.”
    “If I’d known the welcoming committee was going to get rough, I’d have worn my armor,” Annja joked.
    Then she recalled the nightmarish dream. Fighting in mud? The dream had nothing to do with this situation. Couldn’t have. She offered a hand to the dark-haired man, who shook it and held it a little longer than usual.
    “Wesley Pierce,” he offered. “Director of this camp. You going to put us on the television? Be sure to get my good side, will you?” He turned and