A/N: Here is the next story in the series. The chapter is a little short but I hope you enjoy it.
The Skeleton in the Hole
By 18lzytwner
Chapter 1
West Point, Virginia, Monday at 7:00 am
"Come on Bobby, we gotta bust this stuff up before laying the slab," Sam Ruskin ordered his crewman to fire up the digger.
"You got it boss. One large hole, coming up," Bobby "Running Bear" Johnson nodded as he put his hard hat on and climbed into the vehicle. Once the engine fired up, he positioned the claw bucket and dug into the ground to remove some old concrete that was mixed into the dirt at their construction site. Bobby knew that every time he dug into the ground, he risked unearthing his ancestors. West Point wasn't always West Point. Back in the early sixteen hundreds, the town had been called Cinquoteck and was once home to tribes belonging to the Powhatan Confederacy. Eventually the white man had overrun the small village in size as the population of the settlers boomed. Reservations wouldn't be established for another three hundred and fifty years. As part of the Mattaponi tribe, whose reservation was a few miles north of the city, Bobby was always on the lookout.
"Hold it up!" Came the shout of his boss through the radio in the cab of the digger. Immediately, Bobby stopped and cut the engine. Climbing out of the large piece of equipment, he scrambled over to where his boss stood.
"What is it?" He asked. Sam just pointed before pulling out his cell phone and dialing the police. Bobby saw what looked like bones and immediately pulled out his cell phone. He wasn't calling the police but instead dialed the number of the Mattaponi Tribal Council. They would definitely want to have a look at this.
The digger had lifted up some ground to reveal a half dressed skeleton wearing what appeared to be a Mattaponi chief headdress. There was little or no flesh but the leather from the shoes and pants had withstood the test of time.
"The cops are on their way. I'm calling Mr. Seaford. He's going to want to know that we can't dig anymore," Sam explained to Bobby after the Native American hung up his own phone.
"The Tribal Council will be here soon," Johnson told him.
"Mr. Seaford will shit his pants if this turns out to be an ancient burial ground. No offense man but you know how he is," Ruskin said.
"Which is exactly why I work here. Someone has to watch out for our ancestors," Bobby nodded.
The Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab, Monday at 9:00 am
"Bones!" Booth called as he walked into the lab. Cam heard him and immediately left the bone storage room with Simon. The intern had been pointing out some anomalies that he'd found on a skeleton of a soldier from World War Two.
"Booth? What's up?" She asked as he scanned himself onto the platform. The forensic anthropologist looked up from her own World War Two skeleton.
"We've got a doozy of a case. Well it's sort of a case," her partner said as though he was slightly confused.
"What's going on?" Cam wanted to know as she and Simon swiped in. All the commotion had brought Angela and Hodgins up to the group as well.
"A construction crew found what they think is an Indian burial ground in downtown West Point, Virginia," Booth explained.
"Native American. And the FBI is getting called in because…?" Brennan raised an eyebrow.
"Because we're the only ones with a team who can accurately identify the bones," the G-man said.
"And because the guy who owns the property doesn't want the land claimed as a burial ground because then his project would be toast," Cam filled in. She knew how things of this nature usually went. Her experiences in New York had often been involved with construction and Mob hits. Often times the people who owned the property wanted the police off as soon as possible so they could continue construction.
"Exactly. Either way we have a body, which needs to be identified. If it isn't a Native American then this guy was murdered and we need to solve the case," Booth smiled.
"All right, let's grab our gear. Hodgins, you'll need to come along. I need your expertise about the soil and if there are any bugs. Often times ancestral burial grounds get moved and if he is in fact a Native American, the soil will help determine which tribe he belonged to," Brennan told him.
"I'll get my kit," with that the entomologist was off like a shot.
"Angela would you do me a huge favor?" Brennan asked as she turned to her best friend.
"Feed and walk Champ?" The artist smiled.
"Yes and give him one of those rawhide bones. He loves those things and despite the fact I usually find them all over the apartment, he should have one," Brennan smiled back.
"You got it. I'll tucker him out," Angela winked.
"I wished she'd talk to me that way," Hodgins said as he reappeared on the platform. Booth just gave him a look before following Brennan to her office.
To Be Continued...