Lady Justice and the Ghostly Treasure (13 page)

    The wall was covered with Virginia Creeper, and with the exception of the concrete slab on which the cabin used to rest, everything else around the wall was brush and knee-high grass.

    “Nature has a way of takin’ things back,” Dan remarked, “Especially after seventy years. Gonna take a heap ‘o work to clear the place out so’s you can hunt.”

    I was beginning to wonder if we’d bitten off more than we could chew.

    “First things first,” Dan said. “Let’s set up camp. Right here in the middle of the road looks like as level a spot as any. It’s not like we’ll be holding up traffic.”

    Under Dan’s watchful eye, we cleared out rocks and sticks. Having been a Boy Scout, I knew my way around a tent. I supervised the erection of the guy’s sleeping quarters while Dan helped the ladies.

    With that accomplished, Dan said, “We’re gonna need lots of wood for a fire tonight. Let’s spread out and collect us some squaw wood.”

    Mary, starting to get testy after our long, hot day, retorted, “Who you callin’ a squaw?”

    “Calm down, Mary,” I said, patting her on the arm. “Squaw wood simply refers to small limbs and branches that we can find lying on the ground. Stuff we don’t have to cut. There should be an abundance of it, and all we have to do is pick it up.”

    “Well, I guess that’s all right then.”

    When the last stick was on the wood pile, Mary said, “I think I’m about to pass some of that cheese I ate the other day. Where’s the bathroom out here?”

    Dan handed her a small trenching tool and pointed. “If it was me, I’d go downwind a piece and dig me a good hole. Don’t forget to cover it over when you’re through.” He handed her a roll of toilet paper. “Just be careful where you squat. There’s poison ivy and poison oak all over the place.”

    Mary grabbed the paper and shovel and strode away. “I’ll be careful all right. The last thing I need is a red, itchy rash on my hoohah.”

    Once again, too much information.

    With our campsite in order, we turned to the daunting task of clearing the old cabin sight.

    Jake and Melvin had helped portage Dan’s equipment across the dam and stuck around while we were setting up camp.

    Dan said, “Jake and Melvin are finished. You can pay them now and they’ll take off, or, if you’d like them to stick around and help clear the brush, they’d be glad to help for another fifty.”

    I looked at the gnarly tangle in front of us, then at my little crew. They all nodded.

    “Deal!” I said. “Let’s get to work.”

    Dan unloaded nippers, handsaws, and big honkin’ weed eater, and for the next two hours, we attacked the undergrowth with a vengeance.

    Periodically, we each would stop to wipe the sweat away and drink from the bottled water Dan had provided.

    Mary was one of the first to call it quits, and when we joined her at the campsite, she was munching on a bag of something Dan had brought.

    When Dan saw her he said, “Please don’t tell me you got that out of my stash.”

    “Well, I did,” she replied. “I didn’t think it’d hurt nothin’. Apples. They’re real tasty.”

    “Mary,” he grimaced. “Those aren’t just apples, they’re freeze dried apples. You didn’t eat all of them, I hope.”

    “Yeah, guess I did, “she replied, turning the bag upside down.

    “Oh Lord!” Dan moaned. “That bag contained a serving for four.”

    “Sure wasn’t much for four people.” Mary muttered.

    “Would have been once it was reconstituted.”

    “Re what?”

    “Reconstituted. That means you soak them in water and they expand. The problem is you’ve eaten them and they’ll expand in your stomach. When they expand, it causes gas, and that gas will have to escape from somewhere.”

    At that moment, Mary broke wind with such gusto that woodland creatures nearby ran for cover.

    “Oh oh,” Mary said, and I heard her tummy rumble from across the campsite.

    After another explosion, Kevin muttered, “Good Lord! How long will this last?”

    “Probably an hour or more,” Dan replied. “Mary, you might want to think about finding a soft spot maybe fifty feet downwind.”

    “Well damn!” Mary muttered, stalking off.

    For the next sixty minutes, Mary’s flatulence echoed through the wooded Ozark hills. During that time, not bird nor squirrel ventured near.

    With our workday over, we set about cleaning up for supper. Kevin went into the tent to strip off his sweaty clothes.

     A moment later, I heard him moan, “Oh swell! Just what I need.”

    “Problem?” I asked.

    He stuck his head out of the tent. “Yeah, I’d say so. I got a tick on my dick!”

    “Well I ain’t pulling it off!” Mary replied emphatically.

    “Nobody asked you to,” Kevin retorted. “Dan! Help!”

    Dan handed him a first aid kit. “There’s a pair of tweezers in there. Grab the tick as close to the skin as possible and pull firmly out. Don’t twist or rock the tweezers or the head might break off. When it’s out, use the alcohol and iodine.”

     A few minutes later. “Just great! How am I going to go home and explain a red dick to Veronica? She hates bugs. If she knew a tick had buried in there, she might not ever --- never mind. I’ll think of something.”

    I was about to change when Jake and Melvin approached.

    “Guess we’ll call it a day,” Jake said, a subtle clue that they wanted to be paid.

    I pulled out my wallet and handed them each a fifty. “Thanks, both of you. You’ve been a big help.”

    “Glad to do it,” Melvin replied. “Almost hate to leave. Been a real hoot, your friend’s fartin’, your buddy’s tick and all. Got us some good city slicker stories to tell at the Bus Stop.”

    “Glad we could lighten your day,” I replied, realizing by this time tomorrow we’d be the laughing stock of Osceola.

    “I’ll be leavin’ pretty soon myself,” Dan said, “but before I go, I want to get some supper goin’.”

    Forty-five minutes later, as the sun was setting in the western sky, we were sitting around the campfire eating some of the best trail stew I’d ever tasted.

    Seeing we were safe and satisfied, Dan said, “I’ll check on you tomorrow. Good luck! Oh, one more thing, don’t leave any food out or the coons will drag it off.”

    By the time we’d eaten, cleaned up, and stored the left-over food, the sun had set. The woods around us were dark and foreboding. We huddled around the campfire, relishing the warmth and security it provided.

    We were all dead tired, but too wired up to turn in.

    Kevin, ever the realist, voiced what most of us had been thinking. “This has been a real blast so far, except for the tick, of course, but after seeing the old cabin site, we have to face the fact that the chances of finding Henry Sinclair’s gold are slim and none. First, if he hid it in the cabin itself, someone might have found it years ago.”

    “I don’t think so,” Camilla replied. “I’m sure if someone in my family had discovered a cache of gold coins, I’d have heard about it. My folks talked a lot about this old place, but never a peep about gold.”

    “Then it’s always possible that he hid it in the cabin and it was never found. When the Corps bought the place and tore it down, the gold could have been scooped up with the rest of the debris and is buried in a landfill someplace.”

    “I suppose that’s possible,” James replied, “but I have to believe we’ve been led here for a reason. Just think about the series of events that brought us here. A vacancy sign goes up at the Three Trails at the precise moment I’m looking for a place to stay. Then I discover that the landlady is my mother’s long-lost sister. They reunite and my mom gives Mary the diary where she finds the story about the map. After seventy years, Walt and Kevin find the map right where she hid it. Then, on the one and only occasion when my boss asks me to escort a client around town, I run into the granddaughter of the man who buried the treasure. Please don’t try to tell me that’s all coincidence.”

    “You’ve got a point,” Kevin admitted.

    “And don’t forget the ghosts!” Mary added. “Old Cyrus at the hotel and that other thing at the hospital. None of this would have happened without them.”

    “They’re not ghosts,” I corrected. “They’re spirits.”

    “Whatever,” Mary replied. “All I know is there’s some real strange stuff goin’ on!”

    An eerie silence fell as we contemplated the strange series of events that had led us to this remote spot on the Osage.

    Somewhere, not far off, a hoot owl called and a moment later another feathered night hunter replied from across the lake.

    Then in the distance, we heard the long mournful howl of a lone coyote. Shortly after, the rest of the pack joined in, their howls sending chills up and down my spine. Then, just as suddenly, all was silent.

    Kevin broke the silence. “Did I ever tell you the story about the man with the hook hand?”

    “Cut it out, Kevin,” Maggie admonished. “That old line might have worked when you were a teenager parked on a lonely road trying to get in a girl’s panties, but it won’t fly here.”

    “Okay then, how about this? Dum da dum dum dum. Dum da dum dum dum.”

    He was humming the banjo duet from the movie
Deliverance
.

    Given the fact that we were in the deep woods on the bank of a river, that one hit close to home.

    “That’s it. I’m done!” Mary declared. “I’m goin’ to bed.”

    “Me too’s” all around.

    I kissed Maggie goodnight, and we crawled into our sleeping bags.

    As I lay there, listening to the forest sounds, I couldn’t help but wonder what more improbable events were awaiting us.

    Hidden in the shadows, Billy Ray and Lenny listened intently to the banter around the campfire. They watched the city slickers bed down, and when all was quiet, they disappeared into the night.

CHAPTER 11

    When your body is used to sleeping on a pillow top mattress, a night on the hard ground can take its toll --- especially if your body has been around for seventy-three years.

    While the gals were brewing coffee and preparing breakfast, I took a walk to stretch the kinks out of my back.

    When we were working the day before, my mind was focused on the job at hand, and I hadn’t paid much attention to what was around the old cabin site. My stroll had taken me to the bluff overlooking the Osage River valley. The view was magnificent. You could see for miles in both directions. Far below, boats filled with fishermen were heading up and down the river to check their trot lines, hoping to pull in the big one.

    Whenever I’m driving in the country and I see an old abandoned homestead, I like to let my mind wander and imagine what it was like when the ruins were occupied by a family. I imagine children on an old rope tire swing, and cows grazing by a ramshackle barn.

    This morning, I was trying to imagine what it was like when the Sinclair family came to visit their cabin on this beautiful bluff. Looking over the edge, I spotted the remains of a stairway hewn out of the rocks leading to the river bank below. In my mind’s eye, I could see Henry Sinclair, after a hearty breakfast, making his way down those steps to his boat tied up below, looking forward to a lovely day on the river.

    Lost in my reverie, I could almost feel his presence, and the peace and joy he felt when coming here.

    A shadow was cast upon the ground in front of me. I looked up and spotted a bald eagle soaring and drifting in the morning mist. It circled over me once --- twice --- and then sharply banked and headed upriver.

    I could have stayed longer in that beautiful place, but it was not to be. Mary’s shrill voice shattered the air and my reverie. “Mr. Walt! Coffee’s ready! Come and get it!”

    As we sat around the morning fire finishing the last of our coffee, James said, “Time to get to work. Any ideas how we should proceed?”

    That’s exactly what had been going through my mind as I lay tossing and turning on the hard ground.

    “I might have a few. During my years on the force, we worked many crime scenes looking for evidence. This is really no different. If we split up and just wander around, we might miss something. I suggest we form a line along one edge of the property and move slowly toward the other end, examining the ground along the way. I have no idea what we’re looking for, just something --- anything --- that might indicate something is buried underneath.”

    “And I’ll follow behind you with this,” Kevin said, emerging from the tent.

    “What the heck is that?” Mary asked.

    “It’s a Garrett Infinium metal detector. The best there is. This baby cost over a grand. I borrowed it from a buddy of mine. I run it along the ground and it emits a signal I can hear through this headset. If it detects something metal, the signal changes.”

    Everyone was in agreement, so we formed a line at the edge of the old road and moved slowly toward the bluff.

    We had only gone about ten feet when Kevin said, “I’ve got something.”

    James grabbed the trenching tool and started digging. About six inches down, he uncovered a spoon.

    And so it went. First the spoon, then a rusty door hinge, a tin can. After two hours, the only significant find was an Indian Head penny dated 1909. By lunch time, we had covered the west side of the property.

    Right after lunch, for a change of pace, we decided to concentrate on the cement slab on which the cabin had rested. We painstakingly swept out all the debris, looking for anything that might indicate Henry had hidden the gold in the foundation. Again, no luck.

   We regrouped and formed our chain on the east side of the property moving toward the bluff. Our efforts uncovered an axe head, a can of rusty nails and a door knob.

    We had reached the edge of the bluff where the view was greatest when Kevin pointed to the ground. “Here! Dig here.”

    James dug maybe two feet when the composition of the earth changed from topsoil and clay to something more woody.

    A few shovels more, revealed what the Garrett had detected --- a gold ring --- and it was attached to a finger.

    “Whoa!” James exclaimed, jumping back.

    Stunned, we peered into the hole, staring at the bleached bones protruding from the soil.

    Having been a cop, my first reaction was murder, and I was about to say as much, when, to my surprise, Camilla reached down into the grave.

     She gently brushed the dirt from the ring. “Just as I thought,” she said, climbing out of the hole. “Odd Fellows. It’s an Odd Fellows ring. I’m pretty sure this is my uncle Hiram, Henry’s brother. I never met him. He died before I was born, but I heard my parents talk about him. He loved this place. They never told me he was buried here, but I can understand why. Just look at that view. Not a bad place to spend eternity.”

    “Can they do that?” Mary asked, obviously confused. “Just dig a hole and bury somebody anywhere they want.”

    “Remember, Mary,” I replied, “this was the late 30’s, early 40’s. The world was a different place back then. If you drive around country roads, ever so often you’ll see a house with a family burial plot close by. It even happened in my family. Before I was born, my mother had a baby girl. She was still born. At the time, my dad was in the navy, and Mom lived on a farm with my grandma and grandpa. They buried my sister under a lilac bush at the corner of the house. They told me about it when I was old enough to understand. I drove by the old place one day. The house is in ruins now, but the lilac bush is still there, and so is my sister.”

    “I’d say it’s a good bet you’re right Camilla,” Kevin said. “It’s your family, so it’s your call. What would you like to do?”

    She replied without hesitation, “Uncle Hiram has been resting here for decades. If this is where he wanted to be, then I’m not about to change that.”

    She removed a necklace she’d been wearing and placed it in the grave next to the exposed hand. “I’m so glad I finally got to meet you, Uncle Hiram. Rest in peace.”

    She picked up the trenching tool and filled the hole.

    By this time, the sun was starting to set in the western sky.

    “It’s getting late,” I said. “We’d better get a fire going and start dinner before it gets dark.”

    “You all go ahead,” Camilla said. “I’d like to spend a little more time here. I’ll be along in a little while.”

     We left her sitting on the ground, her hand on the fresh earth covering the grave, staring into the valley below.

    We had just finished supper when Dan came strolling into the camp.

    “Hey, pilgrims! Any luck today?”

    “Yeah, all bad,” I said, showing him the pile of useless stuff Kevin found with his thousand dollar metal detector.”

    “Any more ticks?” he asked, winking at Kevin. “Injuries? Sunburn? Poison Ivy? Snake bite?”

    “No, none of that.”

    “Well then, it wasn’t all bad, now was it?”

    “I suppose not.”

    He opened a sack. “I brought something to cheer you up --- dessert!”

    He pulled out a box of graham crackers, Hershey bars and a bag of marshmallows.

    “Anybody for s’mores?”

    “What’s a s’more?” Mary asked.

    “You’ve never had a s’more? Lady, you’re in for the treat of your life.”

    He cut a twig, skewered a marshmallow and toasted it until it was golden brown. Then he placed a piece of chocolate on a graham cracker, followed by the marshmallow. He topped it with another cracker and pressed the thing together until the marshmallow crème oozed out the sides.

    He handed it to Mary. “Give this a try.”

    She took a bite, and if I didn’t know better, I would have thought she was in the throes of an orgasm.

    “Oh! Oh! Oh!” she wailed. “How come I’ve lived this long and never had one of these?”

    We all cut twigs, and soon we were wiping chocolate and marshmallow off our chins.

    Seeing we were happy campers, he said, “Well, my work is done here tonight. What’s up for tomorrow?”

    Pained expressions replaced the smiles.

    “We talked about it over supper,” I replied, “and I think we’ve decided we’ve done all that we can do. We’ve covered every inch of ground. If we stayed, I don’t know what more we could do. If there was ever treasure here, it’s probably long gone. We gave it a shot, but now it’s time to move on.”

    “Really sorry to hear that,” Dan said. “So you want me to come back first thing in the morning to help you pack up?”

    I looked around the group and everyone nodded.

    “Yeah, I guess so.”

    “All right. See you then.”

    Tired and discouraged, we decided to call it a night.

    Everyone headed to their tents except Mary.

    “Think I’ll have one more of those. They’re mighty good.”

    “Enjoy!” I replied, and zipped up our tent.

    I crawled into my sleeping bag, and fifteen minutes later I heard Mary crawl into the lady’s tent. I figured we were all down for the night, but shortly after, I heard rustling just outside the tent.

   Then I heard Mary mutter, “Well damn!”

    I grabbed my flashlight and peeked outside.

    Mary had left the bag with the marshmallows by the campfire, and a huge coon had claimed it for his own.

    I’m not sure who was the most startled, me, Mary, or the coon.

    He stared into the light for a moment, then scampered off dragging his purloined goodies along the ground.

    Just out of curiosity, I followed him to the rock wall. In the glow of my light, I found him on the far wall. He had ripped open the bag and was munching on one of the tasty treats.

    Mary joined me. “Damn bandit! I was gonna have me another one of those for breakfast. Don’t suppose we could get them back?”

    “Not a chance,” I replied. “Finders keepers.”

    We trudged back to our tents and turned in for the night.