The Turbulence of Butterflies (Max Howard Series Book 6)

by Fischer G. Hayes

  On Friday, I invited Hannah McCoy to meet me at the Meeting Center for ten. Between then and when Ariana arrived after school to work on the Journal, I wanted to put together a presentation for Constance Pickering and Texas State Attorney General, Jack Fuller. Constance owned twenty-five percent of the LLC I had set up to explore the Pape Ranch for Spanish artifacts and treasures, while the Attorney General was holding me responsible to look after the State’s interest in any significant historical artifacts we found. I wanted Hannah to be involved in the presentation.

  After she arrived, I showed Hannah the rough draft of an Agreement I wanted her and Texas A&M University to sign. It was just a couple of pages and she read it within a minute.

  “I don’t have a problem with it, Max. But I know the University will. They’ll want more control over the site, the recovered artifacts, as well as any public announcements. Everything else looks fine.”

  I wasn’t in the mood to indulge Texas A&M University any more than I had in the agreement I’d written up. I was paying for everything. “Okay, why don’t you take the agreement to your Department Head? Tell them, it’s a take or leave it offer. I need a signature, tomorrow.”

  Hannah shook her head. “They won’t sign it with a gun to their head.”

  I shrugged that I didn’t care. It was a mere formality to keep the State of Texas out of my business until I sold the ranch. “In the meantime, I’ll have Emily type up an Agreement between you and me while you read what Ariana has translated from the Journal so far,” I said and went to tell Emily what I needed.

  When I returned with the agreement for Hannah to sign, she was deep into the transcribed notes. Emily had been typing up Ariana’s recordings. “Fascinating,” she said moving back to the Journal. She was reading the Journal and then verifying Ariana’s translation. “She has a better grasp of the language nuances than I do,” she said.

  While she read, I sorted through the images of the site on my smartphone and decided which images I wanted to use in the presentation. The big decision for me was whether to mention anything about the capstone. It wasn’t so much that I was worried about what was on the back of it; we had the pictures. I was more concerned what the others would think of my ability to manage the site. I had failed to protect a significant find. The loss of the capstone was on me. But now someone was trying to plant the seed that I had cheated Rebecca Haas out of her inheritance. I decided it would be better not to hide the fact that the cistern had been vandalized. I’d take the hit. I included a picture of the shattered capstone in the presentation.

  “I’m finished,” Hannah said twenty minutes later. She closed the Journal’s translation document and hugged it to her chest. “I want this, Max.”

  I wasn’t sure what she meant. “If your boss doesn’t sign the Agreement, I’m going to give the Journal and our excavation photographs to the Alkek Library at Texas State University.”

  She nodded. “I can see that, especially with the Spanish connection. But this is a game changer for me. I want to switch my dissertation to this Journal and the Spanish cistern at the ranch site.”

  “I don’t have a problem with that; just don’t jump to conclusions. There is nothing so far to tie the Journal to the cistern. Maybe you should wait until Ariana finishes?”

  “I know. The party hasn’t even crossed the Rio Bravo, yet, in Ariana’s translation. The young priest could have died anywhere on the nine-hundred-mile trail to the Pape Ranch from Mexico City. Someone could have buried the journal along with the body and the party kept going past the Pape Ranch. By 1756 the El Camino Real de los Tejas was pretty well traveled and there were several trails depending on the season of the year and the Indian raids. I think the original trail was marked in the late seventeen hundred by an explorer named de León. Maybe the journal will say why they paused in what is now Solms County. That’s what is so fascinating about the journal. It’s like a mystery.”

  “If the priest had died along the way, I doubt they would have carried the body for more than a day before they buried him. It would have been pretty ripe, I imagine. He probably died close by or within a day’s travel, if he died at all. He could have lost the journal and continued on his way to New Orleans,” I said.

  “I don’t think so. It wouldn’t be in this condition if it had been lost. It was deliberately hidden and preserved. As for him dying within a day’s ride, that’s not necessarily a factor. The last entry was in March 22, 1757. It could have been a very cold day and the body would have stayed intact for a long time. I’d have to check the Spanish records in Mexico City for weather data, if it was kept back then. This could take years to sort out. What I find really interesting in the narrative is that if you followed the logic of their destination you’d have to ask yourself why they were going into French territory. France didn’t abandon the Nacogdoches region of East Texas until 1760 and they still controlled Louisiana and New Orleans until Thomas Jefferson obtained it. It’s really curious, because the French were partially responsible for the demise of the Jesuit Order.”

  “You know your history more than I do.”

  “It was my minor. Can I work on the Journal while Ariana translates it?”

  “I lost the capstone, because I didn’t protect it. I’m not going to be as cavalier with the Journal. As long as the Journal remains here on this ranch, you’re welcome to use it. I’ve ordered a safe to keep everything in. It should be here soon.”

  “Thank you, Max. I don’t think losing the capstone was your fault. Vandalism at archeological sites happens all the time.”

  “Hannah, you and I both know that wasn’t vandalism. Somebody didn’t want us to have what was on the back of the capstone, plain and simple. Fortunately, you took some good pictures. My grandson has digitized one of the images and is doing a digital search of all the rivers in Texas and northern Mexico to see if he can find a match. I’m waiting to hear from him.”

  “That’s so cool. How did you think to do that?”

  “It was Andy’s idea. He’s working on his Doctorate in Geographical Science at UT.”

  “I should have thought of that,” Hannah said and lost herself in her thoughts for a moment. “You should think about having the Journal scanned so we can work from a digital copy. And, we really shouldn’t be handling it as much as we are. Ariana should definitely be wearing cotton gloves.”

  “Okay, make sure you take care of that for me.”

  “You know Ariana’s pretty smart for seventeen. When I spoke to her on the phone, she asked a lot of questions about archelogy. I may have recruited a future Aggie.”

  “I can only hope.”

  . . .

  The following Tuesday, Hannah, my Attorney Sam Hallinan, and I were in Austin, Texas. We had an appointment to see Jack Fuller, the Texas Attorney General. He had intervened in a court case at my request back when the estate of Fran Pape was up for grabs. I felt back then that the lawyer for the Pape estate, Constance Pickering, was trying to pull the wool over the eyes of the State of Texas and get her hands on the Spanish treasure that was rumored to be on the ranch. Since then, Constance and I had settled our differences and were now business partners of sorts.

  Constance couldn’t make it to the meeting because of a court hearing on the same day, and she didn’t like to travel after her stroke, so I briefed her on what I wanted her to know, which was as little as possible. I had no proof, only a suspicion that my former attorney of forty years was still up to no good.

  Out of the kindness of my heart I had given Constance twenty-five percent interest in the LLC I set up to cover the search for the Spanish treasure on the old Pape Ranch. It was an attempt on my part to end the feud between us over the Pape Ranch and her involvement in the Pape Ranch Murders.

  The endgame of all the land reclamation work was to make the Pape Ranch a self-sustaining enterprise so that it didn’t have to be broken up and sold off to pay the taxes on it. The Pape’s had not managed the land well. I had a vision that the ranch wou
ld serve as an attraction for people to view how the Hill Country looked before it was settled and also have a chance to see the giant limestone caverns beneath the land that had once held the Edwards Aquifer before it all dried up. The fact that Spanish artifacts had been found on the ranch in the past made it of special interest to the State of Texas. The State was interested in any antiquities that I might discover while restoring the over-grazed land to its natural grassland state.

  All of that had changed now. I was going to sell the ranch, but not until after I had explored what was below the cistern. At this point I didn’t know what actually lay beneath the ground; it was all speculation. Until I did, however, I was not going to get Constance’s hopes up or the State of Texas. She had always felt she deserved more than a twenty-five percent interest in any Spanish treasure we found and she might well tie me up in litigation for a share of any sale of the land, so I decided to keep quiet about my desire to sell the ranch.

  A young man from the Texas State Historical Commission sat in on the meeting at Jack Fuller’s request. After the introductions, it took all of twenty minutes to go through the presentation and to pass the photographs of the cistern site around for inspection. I also included some photographs of the land restoration work we were doing on the ranch.

  “Like I said when we spoke earlier, I just wanted to give you an update. Ms. McCoy is overseeing cistern site and I hope to have an agreement with Texas A&M University shortly to begin investigation of the cavern beneath the cistern.”

  “I’d like to see the site,” Jonas Fiebrich said.

  He was a young man in his thirties, wore a bow tie of all things, and couldn’t keep his eyes off of Hannah.

  “Any time,” Hannah said to him. “I’ll give you my number where you can reach me after the meeting.

  “What about the Journal? Can I see it?” Fiebrich asked.

  “I’m having it scanned, but as soon as we’re done, you can view a copy. We’re about thirty percent complete with the translation.”

  “I thought it had already been translated,” he offered.

  Well, there it was. No one would have known that Constance Pickering had the Journal translated when it came into her possession except her, her staff, and me.

  “That’s what I heard. However, since I own the Journal now, I wanted to have it translated myself,” I said.

  “I hope you will keep me updated, Max. This is fascinating stuff. Make sure you keep Fiebrich in the loop, will you.”

  “Not a problem, Jack. You’ll have to come down and see the site,” I offered.

  “I’d like that. Now if you’ll excuse me I have another meeting scheduled. Thanks for coming by.”

  Sam lingered a moment as the rest of us walked to the office door. I saw him give the Attorney General his card and exchange a handshake, and then he joined us. My attorney had earned his partnership and was now representing his law firm as much as he was me. I wasn’t sure he would see it that way, but I felt good about having a big-time law firm associated with my name.

  On the ride back to New Haven with Hannah, I decided to bring her into my confidence. “How do you think it went?”

  “I think you did a fantastic job, Max.”

  “That aside, you need to know something; I’ve partnered up with an attorney in New Haven by the name of Constance Pickering. She owns twenty-five percent of the corporation I establish to look for the rumored treasure on the Pape Ranch. I own the other seventy-five percent. I trust her as far as I can throw her.”

  “I think I’ve heard of her.”

  “She was involved with the Pape Ranch Murders or at least she was part of the deception in the cover-up that went on back then. She ended up with some property that belonged to the Pape family that she claimed was given to her, including the Journal. It was easier to give her twenty-five percent of any treasure we find on the Pape Ranch than to take her to court and stir up that mess again.”

  “Does she own the Journal?”

  “No, I do. Or, the LLC I own does. But, let’s get back to the meeting. Remember when Fiebrich said he thought there was already a translation?”

  “Yes.”

  “Constance Pickering had a translation done while the Journal was in her possession. To me, that means he’s been in contact with Constance or vice versa. Do not trust him.”

  “What am I supposed to do if he calls me?”

  “I’ll run interference for you. Tell him that anything related to the cistern site has to come through me and that no one is allowed on the Pape Ranch without my permission.”

  “I can do that. What do you think he wants?”

  “What every bureaucrat wants; control. I expect you’ll hear from him.”

  “It’s a problem most archeologists encounter with government officials at least once in their careers. Some officials are worse than others. I think the University is going to turn us down, which might make it difficult now with Fiebrich looking over our shoulders. Without a major University involved at the site, he might want to take control the site to ensure the historically significant cistern isn’t damaged. I’m not sure what the Texas Historical Commission mandate is.”

  “Look into it for me. In the meantime, we need to find a reputable engineering firm to do the LIDAR work in the cavern. I don’t want to wait on A&M to make up their minds.”

  “I can give you a few names. One firm is in San Antonio.”

  “Great. Contact them and let me know what the cost is going to be. I need to run over to Houston for a few days.”

  It was time for me to meet George Landau and talk to James Lee about my decision to sell the Pape ranch. I knew James Lee wouldn’t object. Truth was, I was having second thoughts and I just wanted someone to tell me I was doing the right thing.

  Chapter 12

  The next morning, I was shaving when Kevin rapped on the bedroom door. It was strange to hear him knock at the door as I could count on one hand the number of times he had been in our bedroom since we’d built the house. He usually kept to himself and only showed his face when it was time to feed it or he needed something from his mother or me. I figured his presence must be important.

  “What’s up?” I said and continued shaving.

  He stood at the bedroom door and didn’t make any attempt to come into the room, much less the bathroom. “You got a sec?”

  “My wallet is on the dresser. How much you need?”

  “I could use twenty. Thanks. Have you talked to Mom lately?”

  “A couple of days ago. Why?”

  “She called me last night. She wants me to come out there.”

  “What for?”

  “Aunt Ruby is really sick. Mom said she’s had a relapse and might not live much longer.”

  “I know she’s been sick. I didn’t know about any relapse. I can give you a lift to the airport if you need one.”

  “No. I’m not going, but thanks.”

  “How come?”

  “I’ve got too many things going and Ariana likes her job too much to take the time off.”

  “You can go out to Washington without Ariana, you know. You guys aren’t joined at the hip yet.”

  “Yes, we are. You don’t know.”

  “I think I remember how it was at nineteen.”

  “She’s pregnant,” he said like he was talking about some friend of a friend instead of Ariana.

  You’d think a man my age would be proficient at shaving, but I slumped so quickly I cut myself on the chin. It was no nick and the blood dripped and splattered into the sink. Suddenly, I was so overcome with anger at the news that I wanted to go in there and slap the boy silly, but I didn’t.

  I stuck a hand towel to my chin and walked into the bedroom. Kevin was at the dresser with my wallet in his hand. The look on my face must have scared him so much he imagined I thought he was stealing from me and I was coming after him.

  “You said I could have twenty,” he stammered.

  I crossed the room quickly without any
thought to Kevin or the anger that was driving me. I grabbed my wallet out of his hand. “You stupid… get the hell out of here.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Get!”

  Kevin ran out of the room and downstairs. I heard the front door slam. I went over the bed and sat on the edge. I took a deep breath. I had done a bad thing and I knew it. I didn’t need anyone to tell me. Everyone in my family would remind me as soon as the word got out. I took a deep breath to calm my racing heart.

  I went into the bathroom and coated the flap of skin on my chin with Neosporin and then taped it closed with a band aid. I decided to forget about driving to Houston for the day. What I needed was to get up in the saddle to take my mind off Kevin. His stupidity was going to crush his mother when she found out and I had to think about how I was going to tell her. Kevin sure wouldn’t.

  I called James Lee and told him I would come over later in the month, but I could tell he didn’t believe me. So I told him about Kevin. After I hung up, I knew I needed to call Sunny, but I wasn’t ready for that yet. What I needed was some time in the saddle. I headed for the Pape Ranch and some time with Sally.

  Kevin’s truck was parked at the Meeting Center when I drove by headed for the front gate to the ranch. He was sitting in his truck. It was still too early for Emily to be in and Ariana wouldn’t be there until after school let out.

  I stopped at the gate and decided then to go back for the boy. I turned around and drove back to the Center. I pulled up next to Kevin and parked. I could see he had been crying.

  “Get in,” I said to him.

  He shook his head, no, and wiped his face with his hand.

  “Don’t make me get out of this truck. Get in.”

  He got out and climbed into the passenger side of my truck.

  “What?”

  “Don’t say another word to me until I tell you it’s okay.”