Last in a Long Line of Rebels (22 page)

“Go ahead,” Benzer whispered.

“What is it, Lou?” Bertie asked. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” I said to the room. “Everything is great.” With that, we opened the chest and sent thirty-seven shiny Liberty Head gold pieces spilling across the table.

Benzer threw both hands in the air like he was calling a touchdown and cast a huge smile at the room. “Ka-
CHING
!”

From the diary of Louise Duncan Mayhew
March 1864

A notice has been circulated in the area: “Any
person who shall harbor or conceal any fugitive from service or labor, escaping from one state into another, so as to prevent his discovery and arrest, after notice or knowledge that he was such a fugitive, shall be subject to a fine not exceeding $1,000, and, on indictment and conviction, to imprisonment not exceeding six months, and shall forfeit and pay, by way of civil damages, to the party injured, the sum of $1,000 for each fugitive so lost, to be recovered by action of debt.—Fugitive Slave Act, September 18, 1850, 9 Stat. 462.”

I can hardly walk through town for my legs tremble so.

A
stunned silence filled the room, then Franklin and Patty jumped to their feet shouting, “You found it!” We hugged and laughed, and I handed them pieces of gold. Franklin shook his head back and forth, saying, “Extraordinary, extraordinary.”

It took a few seconds for us to realize that none of the adults were speaking.

Mama and Daddy were looking at each other, puzzled expressions on their faces.

Aunt Sophie's mouth hung open. Even Bertie seemed to be at a loss for words for once.

Daddy finally broke the silence. “Lou, what is this about? Where did you get that money?”

The story came tumbling out, from the prayer for something exciting to happen to the Tate Brothers auction where we'd found the chest, and how I'd found the diary. Benzer and I explained why we'd used Daddy's truck to pull up the stump and how we'd had to hide the loot again before Deputy Lemon saw it. Everybody got in on the story. Patty kept saying she'd helped dig in the yard, and Franklin nodded and smiled and generally acted like he'd known we'd find the gold all along. Thankfully, no one got carried away enough to tell about breaking into George Neely's room.

Daddy pinched the spot at the top of his nose between his eyes. “Now, tell me again how you knew the gold was under the stump?”

I sat down on the edge of the coffee table. “The reverend's last word was ‘Havilah,' which Franklin found means ‘land where there's gold.'”

Franklin beamed. “I just searched for it on the computer; it was really no big deal.”

“Anyway,” I continued, “that really didn't tell us much. But while y'all were at the hospital, Isaac came over. As he was leaving, he sang an old song about an oak tree and its leaves being like Havilah's gold.”

“So you decided to pull up the stump,” Daddy said. He was not looking as friendly as a person might, considering his house had just been saved.

“Well, yeah,” I answered. “We have to pay the lawyers, right?”

Bertie leaned forward and picked up a piece of the gold. She held it up to the light. “This says twenty dollars,” she said. “What do you suppose it's really worth?”

Benzer grinned, pulling a sheet of paper from his front pocket. “I found a coin dealer online selling a piece just like this,” he said. “He was asking eleven hundred and seventy-five dollars. For one piece.”

Everyone sat still, digesting the information.

“Umm.” Aunt Sophie cleared her throat. “And how many pieces did you say are in that pile?”

Benzer and I had already done the math. “Thirty-seven. Worth over forty-three thousand dollars,” I told them.

Bertie gasped. “Good Lord, we're rich.”

Everyone laughed—well, everyone except Daddy. He sat next to Mama on the couch, staring at the gold coins. I started to get an uneasy feeling in my stomach.

“What is it, Daddy?” I asked.

He looked around at us all. “I was just wondering who the gold actually belongs to.”

“What do you mean, Tucker?” Bertie asked. “I've heard the story about the gold a hundred times. Walter Mayhew was guarding a shipment, and it was stolen.”

Daddy stood and walked around the room. “If the government was sending down a shipment of gold, surely there would be more than thirty-seven pieces.” He turned to look at me. “What's the story, Lou?”

“It wasn't actually a government shipment,” I said. “Louise's diary said the gold was sent to a couple of people helping slaves escape, but some soldiers confiscated it.”

“What happened to the sympathizers?” Bertie asked. “Terrible things happened to people who helped the slaves back then.”

“One of them was arrested. The other one was Louise Mayhew's cousin Olivia.”

Daddy looked at me, his eyes wide with surprise.

“That's why Brody Kimmel got shot. He was working with Olivia and tried to get it back.” I looked around the room. “Walter didn't kill him, the Reverend—Silas Whittle—did.”

Franklin beamed. “Imagine! My ancestor, killed in his effort to be an abolitionist. That's really something!”

“Wow,” Bertie said. “This is all very interesting. But I want to know how much is going to be left over after taxes.”

Daddy sighed. “Don't start spending it yet, Bertie. I'm not sure we're going to be able to keep the gold.”

“
What?
” five voices yelled at once. Me, Benzer, Franklin, Patty, and Bertie.

“Daddy,” I said, “what are you talking about? We have to keep the gold. It's how we're going to save the house.”

“I don't think it's that simple, Lou. It's not our money.”

I stared up at the ceiling. “God, you have got to be kidding me! I prayed to you, I listened to you—are you just going to sit up there and let him do this?”

“Lou, stop being such a drama queen.” This from Aunt Sophie, the woman who called 911 over carpal tunnel in her wrist.

“Why?” I asked. “Why can't we keep it?”

“It's not ours,” Daddy said slowly, like he was talking to the baby instead of me. “And that gold was the ruin of Walter and Louise Mayhew.”

“But the money was stolen from Aunt Olivia and her companion. So as her kin, why couldn't we keep it?”

Mama leaned forward and touched the diary's leather binding. “I can't believe you found this diary. That in itself is amazing, Lou.”

“It is pretty cool,” I said.

Patty sprawled on the floor next to me. “If we don't know who it belonged to, what are we supposed to do? Give it back to the Union army? Are they even still around?”

“Over my dead body,” Bertie said. “And you're signing up to volunteer at the museum, Patty. You've got some history to learn.”

Daddy crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “Louise, do you understand what the gold was for?”

The rain that had been threatening all day let loose and pounded on the roof.

I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath until I exhaled. I picked up the diary and started flipping through the pages. “It says that until the soldiers found it, Olivia and her friend were going to use it to help slaves escape. That's why Brody Kimmel was trying to get it back. Olivia was pretty torn up about it when she told Louise.”

Daddy sat down on the arm of the couch and put his hand on Mama's shoulder. “Your whole story is pretty remarkable about finding all this. And if you say that a higher being brought it all about, well, I guess I'm inclined to believe it. Have you given any thought as to why you might have found the gold now?”

“It's what I've been saying—it's to save the house.”

“Well, what if it wasn't to save the house? What if there was some other reason?” Daddy asked.

“Yeah,” Bertie said. “Maybe God thought it was time the library got a new wall.”

“Mother, be serious,” Mama said.

Bertie snorted. “Surely y'all aren't planning on giving the gold away because of something that happened that long ago. As terrible as it all was, ain't a bit of it our fault. None of us was even living! Besides, there's not a soul that cares about that stuff anymore. People got more on their minds than some old tale about this family. Heck, we've got enough recent stuff to keep them talking for another hundred fifty years. What's one more thing?”

“Daddy, the gold solves all our problems. There is no other reason.” I stared at him, begging. “You promised, remember? You said that you'd do everything in your power to help us keep the house!”

He shook his head. “Lou, I don't want to lose the house either. But something just doesn't feel right to me.”

I looked over at Benzer, who just shrugged as if to say, “Parents. What can you do?”

“This can't be happening,” I said. All of this for nothing? No way. I dropped my head in my hands. If I started crying now I'd die of embarrassment.

Daddy leaned down and picked up my hand. “Maybe Louise and Walter never even looked for it.” He smiled gently. “It's way too much trouble figuring out what to do with it.”

I picked up the diary from my lap and turned to a page in the back. “
Despite Walter being cleared of any wrong doing, there are those in town who still look upon us with suspicion. We carry on despite the stares. There was a time Walter would have given the gold to his regiment out of duty, but no longer. Duty to the Confederacy comes second to one's duty to God. William Wilberforce said, ‘You may choose to look the other way but you can never say again that you did not know.' We do know now, this war has taught us much, and were we to find the gold, I need look no further than the impoverished negro settlement to know how we would use it.
”

“They were going to give it away too?” Bertie asked. “This family has always been crazy.”

“They weren't crazy—they were doing the right thing. Lou,” Daddy said, “no matter what we decide, you found the gold and cleared Walter's name. That should make you feel better.”

I frowned, not sure who I was madder at, Daddy or God. “Not as much as you might think,” I muttered.

“It is rather remarkable,” Franklin said. “Wasn't Walter a captain? I'd love to read that diary, Lou. I'd be interested to see how he could change so much.”

“People got their fill of war pretty fast, Franklin,” Bertie said. “One out of every three Confederate soldiers said to heck with it and deserted. Glad I missed it. I don't want any part of anything that makes you crazy enough to part with gold!”

Thunder crashed outside as the rain became a full-force storm. “Maybe we'll get a tornado,” Patty said worriedly. “Nothing would surprise me about this day.”

We didn't get a tornado, but the weather was rotten enough for Daddy to suggest everyone spend the night. I wasn't sure if it was the weather, or he was just too tired to deal with taking everyone home. Aunt Sophie had left her car at the hospital, and all it took was a promise from her to help with the midnight feedings, and Daddy was making Benzer and Franklin a pallet on the living room floor.

“If I hear one creak on those stairs, you two boys will be wishing for a tornado.”

“Yes, sir.”

Patty and I snuggled together in my bed. I was glad her tanner had faded to the point she no longer smelled funny.

“Feeling better?”

“Not really.”

“You sure pitched a fit earlier,” she whispered. “Mama said if you get violent to come and get in bed with her. Are you going to yell at God some more?”

I pulled the covers under my chin. “I would if I thought it would help.” I stared at the ceiling. “But Daddy's got me thinking,” I said. “He's right. It wasn't Walter and Louise's gold. I hate to say it, but maybe we shouldn't keep it.”

“Wow,” Patty said. “I can't believe you're saying that.”

“Me either, but remember what Pastor Brian said my first day at church? He said we all have a purpose, even kids, and we don't have to wait to grow up to be used. Maybe I found the gold so that I can do something that Louise and Walter couldn't.”

Patty blew a curl off her forehead. “I still think it's stupid. They were going to give it to the freed slaves. What are you supposed to do, look for their great-grandchildren?”