"It's the Lucky Pup mine!" he announced.
One of the ladies who worked at the courthouse made an offhand comment about the popular Lucky Pup Mine.
I own The Lucky Pup mine.
It sounds like the Lucky Pup Mine is at the bottom of the whole business.
He'd reached to the main Jeep road from the faint trail to the Lucky Pup when a sound broke the stillness of dusk.
He's not about to let the pup out of the kennel and be forced to shut down all good we're accomplishing.
I don't give a damn about a bunch of bones, but where do you get off saying The Lucky Pup Mine is yours?
If you want the parcel with the Lucky Pup on it, there's a damn good reason—something I don't know about.
"I think we should see The Lucky Pup Mine for ourselves," Cynthia said.
"I suppose this means it's inappropriate to fill Fred in on what happened at the Lucky Pup," Cynthia mused as they climbed the steps to Bird Song.
In the eyes of the Deans, it was looking more and more as if person or persons unknown did in fact take the original bones and switch them for the theatrical imitations Fitzgerald dragged out of The Lucky Pup mine.
The Lucky Pup has apparently been sealed up for the last forty years until someone—kids, we think—broke into the mine this spring.
"The liquor bottle outside the Lucky Pup mine was a pint of vodka, too," Cynthia said.
He may have worked up at The Lucky Pup Mine.
But no one's worked the Lucky Pup in decades.
"Do you know who bought the Lucky Pup?" he finally asked.
Either one of them might have stolen the bony digit from Cynthia's jewelry case and fired a gun at the Lucky Pup Mine.
Certainly he has no ties to Josh Mulligan of forty years ago, or the Dawkins, or the Lucky Pup mine.
Dean wondered if he and Cynthia would be camping in their pup tent in Bird Song's back yard.
Both Dawkins brothers were being offered excessive prices for the Lucky Pup land, from some supposedly unknown and secret purchaser.
He rose and began pacing the room as Dean stopped by and proceeded to bend Dean's ear how this was the day he and Paulette were to receive a firm offer on the Lucky Pup property.
But there was the little problem of the pack of cigarettes Martha clearly described as being with the bones in the Lucky Pup Mine.
I don't know whose bones were in the Lucky Pup Mine, but Josh Mulligan died in 1987 of cirrhosis of the liver from drinking too much.
There's a chance the offer for the mine was completely innocent—simply someone who was legitimately interested in The Lucky Pup and then changed his mind.
After much discussion, they agreed on the wording: I understand you have an interest in the Lucky Pup mine in Ouray County, Colorado and may be anxious about what was found therein.
It would end where it began—at the Lucky Pup Mine.
So you tried to buy The Lucky Pup so you could cover up the whole business once and for all.
No one worked the Lucky Pup in those days.
Fred O'Connor seemed a tad put out that he'd been absent from the final confrontation in the Lucky Pup Mine until Dean reminded him that without his Internet connection and library research, Martha's bones would still be without identity.
It took many days of mountain sunshine and the comforting routine of the bed and breakfast to blur the trauma of the Lucky Pup shooting.
6: " do not care for the good pup of a bad dog, much less for the bad pup of a bad dog ").
Mr. Dean here, part time detective and sheriff candidate, tracked down a hot lead on some bones—maybe a long dead villain—up at The Lucky Pup mine.
What's so valuable about the Lucky Pup Mine?
A little girl—a sort-of ward of ours—had an interest in the Lucky Pup Mine.
Dawkins, Sr. had never hired another mine manager after Josh and never so much as mentioned the Lucky Pup after that time—to his sons or his wife.
The Lucky Pup is one of a dozen or so digs scattered around his property up in Governor's Basin.