Thomas adjusted the net bags resting across Betsy’s back and down her sides. “Just some stuff we might need. She can carry them for a little while. They aren’t heavy.”
He glanced toward the barn. “Who’s going to feed the chickens?”
Frederick, with a look of guilty knowledge, glanced at the men—Randolph had prepped some of the birds to eat along the way. “I tossed out extra feed.”
Randolph added, “They’ll be able to fend for themselves. They eat bugs.”
“Let’s move out,” Samuel said as he tugged the wagon to get it started. The other two men walked behind it while the boys flanked their sister on either side.
Emily clapped her hands and giggled at the unexpected wagon ride.
“If anyone asks, we’re traveling at night because it’s cooler and easier on your sister so she can sleep,” Randolph reminded the boys.
“What are you going to say if they ask about your parents?” Zack quizzed Thomas.
“Pa’s away in the fighting. Ma died when Emily was born.”
Zack turned to Frederick. “And where are we headed?”
“Pa told you to take us to our grandparents in Philadelphia. Said he’d come for us there.”
“Do you think he’ll really come?” Thomas asked.
Frederick shrugged. He didn’t want to think about his parents. He was more concerned with keeping his siblings safe. He was taking a big chance with these three men, but he figured if they were going to do them harm, they would have done it by now.
Chapter 54
Present Day
The results of the DNA are in. The skeleton shares some of your same markers,” Dr. Vinson said to Scott and Aury when they walked in her lab at the college.
“So what does that mean?” Scott asked.
“You are most likely related to the person who was buried on your property. It wasn’t a stranger passing by. Any idea who it might be?”
Aury jumped in. “You said it was a female from the Civil War timeframe, right? It could be Mary who wrote in the diaries or one of her daughters. She had two.”
“But didn’t you say the younger sister was born in 1860? She still would have been a toddler during the war.” Scott did the math in his head. “The chance of a gunshot wound from a Minié ball in 1875 or so, is not likely.”
“That leaves Mary or Sarah, the older daughter,” Aury said.
“We can narrow it down even further,” Dr. Vinson said. “This woman never gave birth, so it rules out Mary.”
“How can you tell that from a skeleton?” Scott asked.
“If she had given birth, we would see small pockmarks along the inside of the pelvic bone caused by the tearing of the ligaments during childbirth.” Dr. Vinson held up the pelvic bone and pointed at the area. “As you can see, this is clear.”
Aury looked at Scott. “Then it’s probably Sarah. I’m glad she has a name. It feels wrong to keep thinking of her as the skeleton.”
“We appreciate you letting us run these tests for you. It’s been a great project for the graduate students,” Dr. Vinson said. She handed him the picture frame wrapped gently with tissue paper.
Thanking her, he opened the package. “It’s beautiful! You did a wonderful job cleaning it up.”
“It was the students. I only offered advice.”
He tucked the paper around the frame again. “Thanks again for meeting us on a Sunday. It’s getting harder for me to take time off work during the week.”
“No problem. I had some prepping to do for classes next week anyway,” Dr. Vinson said.
“If it’s okay, I’d like to get the bones when you’re finished.”
Aury gave Scott a curious look.
“I think it would be nice to bury her in the cemetery by the old church. It’s the least we can do.”
Aury put a hand on his arm. “I think that’s perfect.”
Dr. Vinson assured him she would make the necessary arrangements. They said their goodbyes and walked out of the building.
“Now what?” Scott asked.
“Let’s go see Gran. She said she found something for you.”
The smell of fresh baking filled their nostrils as they climbed the steps to the kitchen door.
“What smells so wonderful?” Scott asked as Aury hugged her grandmother.
“Nothing’s better than warm bread and honey to keep the energy up,” Gran said. “Would you like tea?”
Both accepted and Gran bustled around the kitchen. Aury took in the stacks of papers on the table. “What’s all this?”
“I was working my way through the genealogy. I figured if Scott’s great-grandfather Matthew Junior was born in 1913, he most likely served in World War II. There are quite a few online databases that capture information about soldiers.”
“When did you get so handy with the computer?” Aury asked.
Gran smiled. “The young man at the library was most helpful. I bribed him with cookies.”
“That would work for me.” Scott grinned.
Gran handed them each a cup and a plate with a thick slab of bread and honey, then cleared a spot at the table for them to sit.
“Matthew was in the war, along with his two brothers. Sadly, his brothers were killed in action. From their death notification paperwork the Army had, I was able to get the names of their parents—Matthew Bell Senior and Pearl Johnson Bell from Bel Air, Maryland.”
Gran handed Scott a piece of paper. “Matthew Senior died in World War I, leaving Pearl alone with the three boys. The Army’s records of pension show Pearl moving to Doylestown, Pennsylvania. I thought about where I would go if I was widowed with three children to raise.”
“Your parents,” Aury and Scott said together. They exchanged a look and laughed.
“Right.” Gran searched through more papers until she found what she was looking for. “The address she moved to was owned by Henry and Victoria Johnson. Want to take a guess what Victoria’s maiden name was?”
They shook their heads.
“Townsend!” Gran declared.
“You tracked Scott’s family to the Townsends? Related to the Mary Townsend from the diary? That’s incredible,” Aury said, beaming.
“I can’t believe you’ve done all this work for me. You’re the greatest,” Scott said.
Waving her hand, Gran brushed aside his comments. “This was good exercise for my brain. I may need to do some research into our family lines next.”
“So Pearl was Victoria’s daughter but how was Victoria related to Mary?” Aury asked.
“Those records are still a little sketchy, but I’m working on it. Looking at the average age of when people married and had kids back then, I’d guess there’s a generation between Mary’s kids and Victoria. Since her last name is Townsend, we’d assume Victoria is a descendent of one of the boys—Frederick or Thomas.”
“That reminds me. When I checked the deed records, I found the name Marcus Johnson. Have you run across him anywhere?” Aury asked.
“No, but I wasn’t looking.” She took a note on the inside of the folder.
Gran gathered the papers into a pile and tapped them neatly into a stack. “I’ll call the Doylestown library tomorrow and see if they can help me with family records from the 1800s. I might be able to fill in the missing piece.”
“Can you remind me again why this is important?” Scott asked.
“It may not be,” Aury admitted. “But maybe if we can find more of your family, they can fill in some missing information about the skeleton—I mean Sarah—and the treasure. Maybe someone already found it, and we’re wasting our time looking for it.”
“Are you having fun?” Gran asked.
They looked at her curiously.
“It can’t be a waste of time if you are enjoying the search. And look at everything you learned about your past and each other,” Gran said.
Aury felt the heat rise in her cheeks and took a quick bite of bread.
Chapter 55
B
ack at Eastover, Aury went directly to the library in the manor house. She flipped through the photo albums until she found the picture of the couple standing in front of a stone building.
She pulled out the strong magnifying glass she had borrowed from Gran. “Yes!”
Scott rushed into the room. “What’s wrong?”
“Check out this picture.” She thrust the album and magnifying glass into his hands. She pointed with excitement. “What do you see?”
He concentrated for a minute. “It looks like it could be the building we found. The stones look right.”
“Look beside the building,” she emphasized.
He took a closer look. His head snapped up and he met her eyes. “Are those white stones?”
“Looks like it to me. They aren’t shaped like traditional headstones, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t used as markers.”
“So that tells us the graveyard is somewhere under that mess of kudzu.” He looked at the photo again. “We can use the height of the building and people standing in front to approximate where those stones are in relation to the building.”
Aury pointed at something in the picture. “That looks like a front door, so not the area where we were cutting. It has to be around the other side.”
“What are we waiting for?”
“Don’t you have guests?” Aury asked.
Scott looked at his watch. “Okay. Let’s go by and see if they have everything they need. I can pick up a few things from my cabin.”
After a quick stop to determine all was well with the paying visitors, Aury and Scott were soon loading a backpack with a few essential items.
This time, Scott drove the utility cart out of the front entrance to Eastover and down the main road. Traffic was never heavy this far into Surry County, but they hugged the side of the road anyway. As they approached the wooden bridge, Scott slowed and steered onto a barely visible path.
It was bumpier than usual, and at times, Aury had to get out to move larger branches from the path.
Eventually, they spotted the clearing ahead. Scott stopped on the path, just short of the open area.
“Let’s cut through the trees here. It looks like it might have once been the path to the front of the building.”
They climbed out and grabbed their tools. Aury picked up the black-and-white photo she had taken from the album.
As they approached the building, she held up the photo, comparing it to the squarish overgrowth. She adjusted her approach, trying to match the angles.
“Come look at this and tell me what you think,” she said.
Scott joined her and studied the photo. “No, you need to be to your left more.” He pointed. “Look at the angle. You shouldn’t be able to see the side of the building.”
Aury moved into a better position. “Walk closer to the building and to the right more,” she directed him.
He did as he was bid.
“A little farther. More to the right. Okay, about there.” She tucked the photo into her shirt pocket and hopped and jumped through the kudzu to join him. “Maybe if we shuffle around here a bit, we’ll kick something.”
Scott laughed. “There is no shuffling in this stuff. You’ll have to do it the hard way.” He handed her some heavy-duty clippers.
Sighing, she accepted them and went to work chopping at the intrepid vine.
Thirty minutes later, Scott called a halt for a water break. They trudged back to the utility cart for their water bottles.
“What are you going to do with your half of the treasure?” he asked.
“My half? Why would I get anything?”
“We wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you. It’s only fair.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. This is your land and your treasure,” Aury said.
“You’ve put an awful lot of work into this hunt.”
She waved off his comment. “It’s been a fun distraction.”
“Are you avoiding quilting?” he asked with a playful grin.
She returned his smile. “I’m in a rut, that’s all. I took this job to follow my husband—ex-husband—and be closer to my grandmother. Don’t get me wrong; being closer to her was the best thing I could have done. But the job’s not all that exciting. I took it because it was all that was open when I moved here.”
“Why not look for something else?”
“Maybe I will. That can be my treasure hunt.” She downed the last of her water. “Let’s get back to work.”
As they neared where they had been cutting, Aury tripped and landed hard, catching herself with her hands.
Scott rushed to her side. “Are you okay?” He helped her to her feet.
She brushed off her hands. “Nothing’s broken. I’m just clumsy.” She reached for the clippers she had dropped. Then she was on her knees again, pulling at the vines.
“What did you find?”
“Get down here and help me,” she said.
Scott started cutting as Aury pulled the ivy taut. In no time, they saw a small, white, stone marker, only six inches off the ground.
“Is that what I think it is?” Aury asked.
Scott felt one flat side, then the other. “I think it has carvings on this side.”
Aury scurried around to get a better view. “It’s too hard to make out.”
“Let’s look for more.”
Meticulously, they searched the area nearby and only found two more stones, approximately the same height and shape as the first.
“Can you read anything?” Aury asked, staring at the second stone while Scott inspected the third.
“I can’t make out anything.” He ran his hands over the stone facing. “I can’t feel anything either.” His disappointment spread to Aury.
She copied his movements and used her hands to inspect the marker closer. “I think this is carved, but I can’t make it out.”
“I have an idea.” He pulled out his cell phone and selected camera. He took his time, taking pictures of both sides of all three stones. “Maybe there’ll be more detail when we blow up the image on the computer.”
“Good idea. Let’s go.” Aury was on her feet and heading to the path before Scott had a chance to put his phone away.
They climbed into the utility cart and backtracked to the road, then to Scott’s cottage.
Chapter 56
Aury cleaned off the table while Gran put the leftovers away.
“Did you get a hold of the people from Doylestown Library?” Aury asked.
“I did. They were helpful. They even emailed me some files.”
“Why don’t we call Scott, and you can tell us both at once?”
“Is he in northern Virginia?
Aury nodded. “He’s used up most of his vacation time and only makes it down here on weekends.” She dried her hands and dialed the phone. When Scott answered, she put him on speaker.
Gran settled herself into a kitchen chair. “I told you I found Pearl’s mother, Victoria Townsend, in Doylestown. When Pearl’s first husband died, she moved to Doylestown with her mother Victoria. Then Pearl remarried. The research assistant at the library sent me an old newspaper clipping about the wedding. Apparently, the Townsends were high society in that area.”
“Mary’s diary did say her dad owned a textile factory. Guess that paid well,” Aury said.
“Did you find out how Victoria was related to Mary?” Scott asked.
“As a matter of fact, Pearl’s grandfather was at the wedding—Frederick Townsend.” Gran beamed with pride.
“You did it!” Aury hugged Gran.
“At least we know Frederick survived the Civil War,” Scott said.
“Did you find out who Marcus Johnson was?” Aury said.
“Victoria actually had two children who lived to adulthood, Pearl and Marcus.”
“But Marcus’s name was on the deed for Eastover. Why didn’t it pass down his family tree? How did it end up with my great-great-whatever grandmother Pearl?” Scott’s confusion was e
vident through the distance.
“I wondered the same thing,” Gran said. “So I checked the death records. Marcus died in 1918 during World War I. The deed was never in Pearl’s name and didn’t transfer to Matthew Bell Junior—and thus your family line—until much later.”
“So it skipped a generation. I wonder why it took so long?” Aury said.
“Maybe because Matthew was only a child at the time. When did you say he was born?” Scott asked.
Gran looked at her notes. “1913.”
They each got lost in their own thoughts.
“Looks like I have some more work to do,” Gran said. “What about you two? When are we going to get our hands on that treasure?”
Scott laughed. “That’s where your granddaughter gets her drive. I plan on being out there again Saturday morning.”
“I can meet you if you aren’t getting sick of me yet,” Aury said.
“Sick of you? No way. That treasure won’t get found without you. I’ll see you this weekend.” Scott said his goodbyes.
* * * * *
Aury had just joined Scott Saturday morning in front of the manor house when Gran’s car pulled in. Gran stepped out, followed by a couple in their mid-forties, dressed casually in shorts.
“I have someone I want you to meet.” Gran was beaming from ear to ear. “This is Ethan and Joyce Hampton. They’re your distant cousins.”
Scott gave her a strange look. He offered his hand, introducing himself.
“I was caught off guard as well when Liza called me,” Ethan said.
“She does have an energy about her that will make you believe anything though,” Joyce said with a grin.
Gran gestured toward the manor house. “Do you think we could sit in the library and talk a while?”
Scott motioned for her to lead the way. He looked at Aury who only shrugged and followed her grandmother up the steps.
Once they were all seated, Gran told her story.
“It didn’t make sense to me why Eastover passed to Matthew Bell Jr, but it took so long for his name to show up on the deed. At first, we thought it was because he was only a child, but actually he wasn’t granted the deed until 1955 when he was forty-two years old.”
Eastover Treasures Page 17