Eastover Treasures

by Dawn Brotherton

  “Not this time, dear. But call and let me know what you find.”

  * * * * *

  Aury wasn’t sure what she should be looking for exactly, but she took her notebook, just in case. When she arrived at the Yorktown National Cemetery, the docent was taking in the sidewalk sign announcing that the visitor’s center was open.

  “Did you have any questions?” she asked.

  “I see you have an M. Townsend listed on your website as being buried here in June of 1862. Do you have any more information about that person?” Aury asked.

  “Come on inside and let’s take a look.”

  Aury took in the framed posters and shelves of books lining the walls as she followed the docent.

  “Is this a relative of yours?” the elderly woman asked, pulling a book from the shelf.

  “Not of mine. I’m trying to track down an ancestor for a friend.”

  “What military unit was he with?”

  “Oh, she wasn’t in the military. I found something in the Richmond Library archives that notes a Mary Townsend in Yorktown who died of typhoid, but it doesn’t give any more details than that. The only mention of burial I found was here for M. Townsend. Could it be Mary?”

  “If she was working in one of the army hospitals, it could be. What year was it again?”

  “1862.”

  The docent ran her gnarled finger down the list of names in a three-ring binder. “M. Townsend. Female. Married. Ah, yes. This makes sense. It is thought she was a nurse in the field hospital at the Thomas Nelson house. They had an epidemic of typhoid run through there in early summer. Killed hundreds of soldiers and civilians alike. No family claimed her, so they would have buried her along with the other unclaimed bodies.”

  The docent read in silence for a moment. “There’s a cross reference here. There is a Mary Townsend listed in letters written by Private Forrest Redding to his parents.”

  This time, the helpful woman took her place behind a computer terminal. After typing in a few lines, she scanned the screen, scrolling with her mouse. “Here you go.” She gestured for Aury to come around the desk to view the screen. “These letters are dictated just how they were written, so don’t mind the misspellings or poor grammar.”

  Aury read.

  Dear Parents,

  I now take this opportunity to asure you I am well. The great battle I found myself in a few days past was the worsed of my Life but I only sufferd the most minor of injurys.

  A kind woman by the name of Mary Townsend cleaned me up good and says I will be joining my unit again soon. Too be honest, I am not ecited to go back to the tents but I will do what I was sent to do. It wasent much fun to hear them old shell whissing over our heads.

  Misssus Townsend asked me whether I had seen her husband or son. I was unable to releeve her heart. I seen so many men I canent remember names outside my unit.

  I must stop write as soon as you can.

  “Can I get a copy of this?” Aury asked the docent.

  “Of course.” With a push of a button, Aury heard the printer whir into action. “Did it answer your question?”

  “It got us a step closer. It fits with the Mary we know about. In her diary, she states her husband and oldest son leave to go into town, but they didn’t come back. I guess she could have worked with the wounded hoping to learn something.”

  “Typhoid was rampant in those army hospitals,” the woman said. “She could easily have caught it there and died. If her husband was missing, it would explain why no one claimed her body to bury her at home.”

  “Do you have access to old military records for the Civil War period?”

  “Sure do.” The docent typed in some commands. “Who are you looking for and which side?”

  “James and Noah Townsend. Not sure what side they might have fought on. I would think the south, but Mary was from the north. They wouldn’t have joined until around January 1862.”

  After a few more database searches, the older woman shook her head. “Sorry. No record of either name on either side. Not around here during that time frame.”

  Aury glanced at her watch. “I’m sorry I kept you past closing. This has been so helpful.”

  “No problem. I love researching history. Please let us know if you find any information to add to our narrative.”

  “I will. Maybe we’ll even transcribe Mary’s diaries when we’re done, like this website did.”

  “That would be wonderful. You never know what little tidbit of information will help the next researcher.”

  Aury thanked her again and left as the door was locked behind her. She couldn’t wait to share this letter with Gran and Scott. It felt like they were making small steps forward.

  Chapter 41

  July 17, 1862

  Sarah wrapped the small bundle in an oilskin rag and slipped it into the pocket of her apron. The younger kids still weren’t awake, so she had just enough time to get down to the river and back before breakfast.

  The silence was refreshing after the storm last night. Emily whimpered late into the night until she finally fell asleep snuggled next to Sarah. The boys arrived at some point, crawling onto the foot of the bed without her noticing until she tried to stretch her legs.

  She needed some time to herself to think about how she was going to get information about her mother. She could leave the younger children with Frederick while she walked to the nearest farm, but she wasn’t sure how far away that was or how long it would take her. What happened if she didn’t return?

  The ground was soggy, and the mud sucked at her shoes as she neared the water. As she approached the springhouse, a shot broke the stillness, followed by a few more volleys.

  Sarah made a break for the cover of the building. Her foot caught in the mire, and she fell forward. Pushing herself out of the mud, she crawled toward safety. A sharp stab of pain drove her to her belly again. Dragging herself forward by her hands, she made her way to the rocks. Another blow to her back and Sarah went still.

  Chapter 42

  Present Day

  When they got together on Saturday, Scott handed Aury a folder full of papers and a tattered Bible. “She didn’t get very far in her research. Looks like she was just gathering information from family relatives to get started.”

  “That’s something. Gran was saying it might be easier to try to work backward rather than from Mary Townsend forward.”

  The appraiser arrived, and Scott left Aury reading through the folder while they toured the grounds.

  Aury looked over the papers. There were a few computer-printed articles about Eastover, but nothing Aury hadn’t already found in her search. A roughly drawn family tree was sketched out on a legal piece of paper. It started with Scott’s father Henry Bell and his mother Ellen Spencer.

  Henry’s side of the tree was fairly stark. He had no siblings. His father, Grant, was the eldest of three brothers and the only one who lived to marry and have a child.

  Ellen’s side of the family had more details. She had two sisters and two brothers. Those siblings each had two or three children. Aury could understand how much fun Scott and his cousins would have had ranging across Eastover.

  Henry must have known the names of his grandparents—Thomas Jr. and Mary Bell—but not much more than that.

  It was a place to start, though. Remembering that she still had the copies of the land deeds she found at the library, she pulled out the backpack she carried which held the documentation she had collected so far.

  Rifling through papers, she found the original land grant for 912 acres from the King of England to Henry Brown in 1637. There was another document when a portion of the land was split into parcels for Henry’s sons.

  She jumped to the most current deed for the 283 acres Scott now owned. Before that, it was in his father’s name, and before that, his grandfather Grant Bell who received it as a gift from his father, Matthew Bell Jr. Then she ran across a name she didn’t recognize—Marcus Johnson. She made a note to ask
Gran if she ran across that name in her genealogy search.

  She didn’t see any other deeds older than 1955. That meant there was a large gap in the records. She assumed it was because of the war.

  Aury jotted in her notebook, not wanting to forget any questions she needed to ask Scott or look up once she got in range of internet service.

  Once she had gotten as far as she could with the pages, she carefully opened the Bible. It was obviously well-loved and well-read, judging from the creases in the spine and the spidery handwriting in the margins.

  On the opening page where births and deaths were recorded, Scott’s great-grandparents were the first listed. Their deaths were recorded as Matthew Bell Jr. in 1971 and Mary in 1973. They had three children. Grant was born in 1935 and died in 1995. He was Scott’s grandfather on his dad’s side.

  Then came Henry, and finally Scott’s birth was recorded in 1985. She noted Scott had not updated the dates of his parents’ deaths. Was it an oversight or something more?

  Putting the Bible aside, she looked over the stack of books Scott had left for her on the picnic table. The three-ring binder held reports for Eastover going back thirty years or more. She was still going through them, furiously scribbling notes, when Scott returned.

  “Are you getting hungry yet?”

  Aury glanced at her watch, surprised to see it was almost noon. “Time got away from me. How did your meeting with the appraiser go?”

  “She said she would run the numbers and call me. I need to send her the insurance claims to show what money I should be getting from them.”

  “Did she give you any ideas?” Aury asked.

  Scott shrugged. “She wasn’t very upbeat about the idea. Apparently land like this is only valuable if you sell it to developers. I don’t want to do that.”

  Aury stood. “I brought lunch this time. You’re always feeding me.” She retrieved a cooler from her car and placed it on the picnic table. “What happens if you can’t keep Eastover?”

  He sighed. “I always thought I’d watch my kids run through the woods the way I did. Making forts. Searching for buried treasure.”

  Aury laughed. “You searched for treasure when you were little too?”

  “We didn’t know it was real at the time or else we would have tried harder.” He smiled as he looked around. “This place has so many good memories. Being here the past few weeks has been the most fun I’ve had in years.”

  “Even with all the work?”

  “Especially with the work. As I said before, seeing a difference in what I do is rewarding. Plus, I enjoy the outdoors much more than living in a city and working in an office.”

  “Why don’t you run this place full time? Move down here?”

  “I wish. I still need money to live on. And I have to pay people to help me. Alan’s been doing some stuff for me during the week, and that has taken the last of my reserve.”

  Aury took a bite of her chicken salad, deep in thought.

  “Guess we need to work harder to find the buried treasure,” she said at last.

  “Have you given any more thought to following your nose?”

  “Actually, yes. Beside a garden, what else would have good smells? I was thinking about drying herbs in a barn.”

  Scott smacked himself in the forehead. “I’m so stupid. What about food?”

  Aury gave him a quizzical look.

  “When the house was first built, there was an outdoor kitchen. It was too hot to cook inside, plus it reduced the chance of a house fire.”

  “But I thought the manor house had a kitchen.”

  “It did. But there were two. One inside for preparation and storage, but another one away from the house.”

  “Is it still there? I don’t remember seeing it.”

  “The building is long gone, but the old chimney still stands. It’s covered in weeds, so you probably didn’t notice it.”

  Aury jumped up. “Let’s go.”

  Scott laughed. “Can I finish my sandwich first?”

  “You can take it with you.” She tugged on his sleeve, and he gave in. He grabbed the rest of his sandwich and a bottle of water for the ride.

  Aury drove the cart while Scott ate.

  “How was work this week?” she asked.

  “Dull. My mind kept wandering to my next project here.”

  “What’s your next project?” The cart bumped over ruts left by larger work vehicles.

  “Well, since the motel isn’t livable, I have to think up another way to bring in money. That leaves the manor house and some of the cottages.”

  “I know this is supposed to be a getaway, but do you think you would do better with internet connection out here? I mean, most people don’t want to be disconnected,” Aury said.

  “I agree. I had the local internet company give me a quote to get service. It runs down the street in front of the drive, so it’s just a matter of running the lines to the buildings here. It’s doable.”

  Aury hit a particularly deep hole, and they bounced. “Sorry.”

  After they parked in front of the manor house, Scott and Aury walked to the left of the building on the side closest to the river. Approaching the overgrown tangle of vines, Aury could make out the elongated stretch of the growth.

  “You’re right. I never would’ve noticed this.”

  Scott pulled the vines away with his hands at the base. The hollow of a brick fireplace became visible, complete with animal droppings and parts of a mouse-sized skeleton.

  “But now what?” she said.

  “The clue could have been hidden anywhere in the kitchen.” They looked around, trying to envision what it would have looked like in Mary’s time.

  “If it was inside, it wasn’t buried,” Aury said.

  “And if it was hidden inside a box or something, the workers would have noticed when they tore the building down.”

  “When was that?”

  “I’m not sure. We’ll have to check your old maps and see if the building is shown.”

  “But if it was hidden near the fireplace, where would it be? That’s all we have to go on.”

  Scott pulled more ivy away from the bricks. “Old fireplaces had built in niches where you could store things like matches or kindling.”

  Aury joined in by pulling ivy from the other side. She ran her hands up the brick surface, feeling for any sign of looseness.

  “Here!” Scott held a rough brick in his hand. Aury started to reach into the opening, but Scott stopped her. “Wait. Let’s look first. Who knows what spiders may have taken up residence.”

  Aury shuddered and waited while he pulled out his cell phone and set it to flashlight mode. After poking inside the hole with a stick a few times, he fished out a tin box.

  He handed it to Aury and shut off the light.

  Gently she opened the lid. It was full of matchsticks. Her shoulders drooped. “Guess it was too good to be true.”

  “Don’t give up so quickly.”

  She handed him the box as she turned to search the fireplace again.

  Scott didn’t get a firm hold on the tin, and it slipped from his fingers. The sticks scattered across the grass. As they knelt to put them back in the box, Scott started laughing.

  “What’s up?” Aury asked.

  He reached into the tin and pried a folded piece of paper from the bottom. “Three guesses as to what this is.”

  Aury grinned. “Where do we go next?”

  Chapter 43

  July 17, 1862

  Sarah? Where are you? Emily has been crying for you.” Frederick broke through the trees. Seeing his sister’s muddy figure on the ground by the springhouse, he laughed out loud. “Wait until Thomas sees you! You will never be able to call him filthy again.”

  When Sarah didn’t move, Frederick ventured closer. “Sarah?” A note of panic rose in his throat. He swallowed hard and forced himself to get closer. He looked around frantically, searching for the reason his sister wasn’t responding. He knelt by h
er side and placed his hand on her shoulder. He shook gently, hoping she would awaken. A small cry escaped his lips when he moved her hair away from her face and saw her dead eyes.

  He scrambled, crablike, away from the body. Now he could see a dark spot on Sarah’s dress that wasn’t mud. He heard movement in the trees behind him.

  “Frederick? Sarah? Come on already. I’m hungry, and Emily is crying again.” Thomas’s voice rang out in the morning air.

  Frederick jumped to his feet and ran for the path to the woods. “I’m coming. Let’s go find food.”

  “Where’s Sarah?”

  “She’ll be along eventually. You know how she is.” Frederick put one arm around his brother while wiping tears from his eyes with the other hand.

  Chapter 44

  Present Day

  For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also,” Scott read.

  “Doesn’t sound too helpful. We don’t know where the treasure is. That’s the problem,” Aury said.

  “Isn’t that a Bible verse?”

  “Sounds like it. I’ve heard it before somewhere.”

  “I have the family Bible at the cottage,” Scott said.

  “Let’s look in the manor house. I want to see if Mary’s family Bible was there anyway. Yours starts with your great-grandparents.”

  They walked into the house and straight to the library. Aury searched from left to right while Scott went right to left.

  “Scott, I think I found it. Can you reach it? It’s on the second shelf.”

  He pulled down the book. It was definitely an old Bible. Aury sat on the couch as she opened the red leather cover.

  The front page listed the marriage of James and Mary on September 9, 1846. Under that, the births of seven children were listed, two included the date of death as well. No other entries had been made.

  Aury felt drawn to this book as she had Mary’s diaries. Something about reading a woman’s handwriting from the 1800s brought history to life for her.

  The book was printed in Philadelphia in 1827 by the American Bible Society. The thin paper contained scribbles in the margins. She turned to the end.