by Becki Willis
Thrown by the question, Madison pursed her lips in worry. “No, even though I guess I should. Hey. If we do come for supper tonight, we’ll have to keep Brash out of the garage.”
“No problem. I’ll tell him it looked like rain, so I hung my underwear on the indoor clothesline. No man wants to see his grandmother’s unmentionables.”
Blake hadn’t wanted to see them, either, particularly while the older woman was wearing them, but according to her son, his young eyes had been scarred for life. And that was before the debacle with Granny Bert’s geriatric exercise class with several of her friends.
“Actually, I came by to pick your brain,” she informed her grandmother. She made herself a glass of tea and took a seat at the table.
“I’ll gladly share my wisdom with you, child. What is it you’d like to know?”
“This wasn’t it, but before I forget, you still have it hidden, right?” There was no need to call the gold by name. They both knew exactly what she meant.
“Girl, I once hid an expectant nanny goat in the house, and your grandfather didn’t know about it for a week. Please don’t insult my intelligence.”
“Sorry. No offense.”
“Your question?”
“What can you tell me about Joe Don Peavey and Hugh Jenkins’ little scheme of panning for gold?”
“It wasn’t a scheme. They had a nice little business going for a few years. The summer tourists especially enjoyed it.”
“Did anyone ever truly find any gold?” Madison challenged.
“Doesn’t matter. It was all in fun, and they had signs everywhere, warning folks they might not find a thing. But the fun was in the challenge, you know? That one chance in a million that you might actually find a little color.” Her grandmother smiled at the memories. “Being the science teacher over at Sisters High, Hugh always threw in a little geology lesson with every try. And if you chose to take the big expedition, there was rock climbing, and hiking, and good, physical exercise for the kids. It was a shame, really, when they had a falling out and decided to close down.”
“Actually,” Madison had to admit, “that does sound fun. It sounds like something Blake would have enjoyed.”
“You should book a trip to Mason this summer,” her grandmother advised. “They have several topaz mining operations up there. It’s the only place you’ll find a blue topaz.”
“Hmm. That sounds like fun, too. I may check into that.”
“That’s also where they filmed your grandfather’s favorite John Wayne movie.”
“The Searchers?” Madison had fond memories of watching the old western classic, curled up at Joe Cessna’s side.
“Sure is.” Her grandmother nodded. “But I suspect we’re getting sidetracked. Why the questions about Muehler Creek Mining?”
“I spent the morning at the library. Sadie Bealls says hello, by the way. I’ll be honest. I was shocked to learn there were trace bits of gold found in our own backyard. Nothing the size of those nuggets, mind you, but gold, nonetheless.”
“One or two folks found more than trace bits, but you’re right. Nothing like what we found.”
“There’s something else I want to ask you about. I forgot to look it up at the library. I heard Mr. Pruett mention something about the government confiscating people’s gold. I think it has something to do with Teddy Roosevelt.”
“Close. It was Franklin D. Roosevelt, and it was Executive Order 6102.”
“You mean it was real? I didn’t bother looking it up at the library because I thought it was just another of his fantastical stories!”
“Nope. For once, he’s telling the truth. Back in ‘33, the government decided they needed to take control of the nation’s gold. Because of the Great Depression, folks lucky enough to have it were hoarding theirs, and it put the government in a pickle. They decided to make it illegal to own more than a small amount of the precious metal. They paid the people for turning it in, of course, but with paper. Then they turned around and upped the value of gold, which immediately devalued the dollar. It also made the government a handy little profit.”
“Our government?” Madison clarified. “You’re telling me the United States government confiscated personal property from the American people?”
“Sure am. The very same people who took control of the liquor industry and made booze illegal. And you know how well that turned out.”
Granny Bert was just getting started, tuning up to stand on her soapbox.
“These are the same folks who want to take our firearms and leave us defenseless. Mark my words, girl. Control a man’s money, control a man’s liquor, control a man’s ability to defend himself and his family, and you control the man.” She pounded her fist on the tabletop for emphasis. “That’s not how the United States was meant to be, controlled at every turn by our government.”
Madison appreciated her grandmother’s passion, but her own mind moved in other directions.
She stood and paced around the table in thought.
“So, if someone was afraid their gold could be confiscated, it makes sense that they would hide it.”
“You wouldn’t believe some of the crazy things folks did, trying to hold onto their gold!” Granny Bert slapped her leg with a laugh, her earlier ire all but forgotten. “That was before my day, mind you, and the law was soon revoked, but I’ve heard the tales.”
“So, hiding their gold in a chair wouldn’t be at all unusual.”
Granny Bert bobbed her gray head up and down. “I see what you’re getting at. And a chair makes perfect sense. In fact, I don’t know why I didn’t think of that sooner! Even the necklace makes sense now.”
“It does?” Madison questioned, her tone somewhat skeptical. “Because I’ve been having a heck of a time making sense of that piece. I can’t decide if it’s artistic or atrocious.”
“There were clauses in the Order to allow for personal jewelry, professional jewelers, dentists, and the like. It makes sense that someone tried to disguise a hunk of raw gold into passing as a piece of jewelry. And my vote, by the way, is on atrocious.”
“Either they realized it would never pass scrutiny, or they were too embarrassed to wear it in public, hence its life amid the cushions.” Madison’s posture slumped. “Miss Sadie put me on a ton of information, but I didn’t see a single neon sign that pointed to our chair.”
“Of course not. That would be too easy, now wouldn’t it?”
There was a definite whine in Madison’s voice. “Just this once, I was hoping for easy.”
“What have I always told you? Anything worth having is worth working for.”
“Does that include finding a fortune you didn’t work for and, therefore, probably don’t deserve?” she asked in an artificially sweet voice.
“If you work hard enough to keep, it counts as earning it.”
“You just made that one up,” Madison accused.
“Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
“Tell me. Why am I the only one doing all this research? I feel like my head is going to explode!”
“Because if it were up to me, we’d sell the gold outright and be done with it,” Granny Bert reminded her. “You’re the one who’s so worried about following the proper channels.”
“Yeah, well, those proper channels have given me a major headache.” Madison rubbed at her temples. “Did you know there’s a lost and found for gold? Back in the day, if a prospector suspected someone swiped some of this gold, he could list it with the assayer’s office. Assuming he had bothered to have it weighed to begin with, he could report the exact weight and a general description of it. If anyone found unclaimed gold, or if someone came in with a claim that matched it, officials were supposed to check it out before they were paid.”
Granny Bert cackled at the absurdity of such an endeavor. “And I reckon it was never once enforced! What yahoo would turn in gold to the lost and found, instead of claiming it for themselves?”
While the older woman laugh
ed and carried on about who would be such an idiot, Madison watched her with an unamused expression. When Granny Bert finally noticed, she sobered.
“Oh, right. You’re one of those yahoos, aren’t you?” she mumbled, only half under her breath. A snicker burst out again, but Madison wanted to believe it was the result of her further observations. “And how does one ‘describe’ gold? A lumpy rock? A bag full of dust? Anyone with a lick of sense would just pour a little out of the bag or knock a chunk off the rock so it wouldn’t weigh the same thing. Sounds to me like they had some politician in charge of the operation, instead of someone with a lick of common sense in their head.”
Madison let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, I’m running out of ideas here. I thought I was onto something when I read that Darwin Blakely’s uncle hit it rich in Alaska, but it turns out he was the black sheep of the family and never returned from the Yukon. He died in the mines that made him a fortune, many times over. I can’t find anything else—in the journals or in the library or even on the web—that offers insight into the gold we found stuffed in that chair. I don’t know where else to look!”
“Try the journals again,” her grandmother advised. “Especially around the time the Executive Order was in place. And maybe do one of those image searches on the internet. Ugly or not, someone may have taken a photograph of that necklace.”
Fourteen
“Good morning, dollface,” Derron Mullins greeted his employer. “Imagine seeing you here.”
Madison looked anything but amused. “Very funny. Shall I point out that this is my office?”
Derron tossed his perfectly manicured blond head. “Shall I point out that today’s Wednesday, and it’s the first time you’ve set foot inside all week?”
Madison wrinkled her nose, knowing he had a point. Still, she needed to assert her authority, what little she had. “Shall I point out the fact that I could fire you for your insolence?”
“Shall I point out the fact that you love me and need me too much to ever do such a foolish thing? Especially since I just got us a new client?” He waved a piece of paper in the air, his look smug.
Giving up all pretense of making good on her threat, she brightened. “Really? Who, what, when, and where?”
“I’ll give you one clue. It doesn’t involve the world of journalism, even though you just hit the Big Five, minus the how.” When she looked at him in confusion, he elaborated, “You know, the Five W’s. Who, what, when, where, and how. The cornerstone of newspapers everywhere and the key to every good story.”
“That’s old school, my friend. These days, it’s all about public opinion, not facts. No one cares anymore about—” She stopped herself mid-sentence, thumping a hand to her forehead. “Oh. My. Gosh. They’re right. I’m turning into my grandmother!”
Derron looked horrified. “Heaven help us. One Granny Bert is more than enough!”
“You can see the kind of week I’m having,” Madison complained. “And now I have to go back to the library and do another mind-numbing search, before I go back to Granny Bert’s to work on Brash’s birthday present. I need coffee.”
“You have a cup in your hand.”
She looked down, almost in surprise. Swallowing the remaining contents in a single gulp, she corrected, “I need more coffee.”
“Let me get that for you, dollface.” Derron jumped up from behind his desk and came to take her cup. “What was it you said you got your hunky husband for his birthday?”
Madison waited until he had pressed the button on the coffee maker before she waggled her finger in reprimand and gave him an I’m-onto-you smile. “Nice try, but I’m not telling you.”
Pouting prettily, he accused, “You did that on purpose. You let me make you coffee before you shot me down.”
“In some offices, it’s customary for the employee to make coffee for his or her boss.”
“But we always strive to be different, now don’t we?” He smiled brightly. “That’s what sets us apart.”
“What sets us apart is that we’re the only temporary service in River County. You never told me what our new job was.”
“You never told me what your gift was.”
“Because I know you. Brash will give you one of his best smiles or be wearing that shirt you like so well on him, and you’ll spill the beans. So, nope. Not going to happen.” She motioned for him to bring her coffee. “Now, tell me about this new client.”
“Marvin Combs needs us for a week at Marvin Gardens. He said he had heard such good things about us from Lewis Insurance Company and Lone Star Law, that he was willing to give us a try. He wants us to start as soon as possible.”
“What’s the job? I don’t know a thing about irrigation systems and landscaping!”
“No worries. He wants you to set up a new filing system for him. Apparently, Shawn Bryant was so impressed with the system you set up for him, he’s telling everyone you’re an organizational specialist.”
“Wow. Word travels at the speed of a snail.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “That job was almost a full year ago.”
“Considering there aren’t that many offices in The Sisters, it could be worse,” Derron reasoned.
“True.”
“What brilliant system did you use?” he wanted to know. “Why haven’t you incorporated it here in our office?”
“I have. It’s called the alphabet. Not to speak ill of the dead, but apparently Gloria Jeffers used something completely different when filing. What Shawn Bryant called brilliant, I called the only logical choice.”
“Well, don’t tell Mr. Combs. Just cruise over to Marvin Gardens, pass go, and collect our two hundred dollars.”
Madison curled her lip at his Monopoly reference. “Cute, Derron. Real cute.”
Overlooking her dry tone, the petite man ran his hands over tailored khaki slacks and tugged at the collar of his starched, button-down shirt. “Thanks,” he said. “I try.”
Once more, she was reminded that the man dressed better than she did. Touching a hand to her necklace, she consoled herself with the thought that at least today, she had remembered to embellish.
With her thoughts on another necklace, Madison left the office in Derron’s capable hands. Despite his theatrics, the man was an excellent assistant. He had impeccable telephone skills, a warm, easy way with people, and a social grace that Madison often envied. Not only was he perfect in an office setting, but he also did an excellent job when in the field. Whether performing clerical duties or carpentry skills, the man was a natural, and she knew she was lucky to have him in her corner.
For all his attributes, however, her one and only employee wasn’t without his faults. Despite his professionalism when working with clients, the man could be downright nosy. Fearful of being left out, he often overstepped the bounds of propriety and butted in, even when and if he wasn’t invited. Madison considered him a good friend and a sounding board and normally didn’t mind his overzealous curiosity, but this wasn’t something she wanted to share with Derron.
Keeping secrets from the man was almost as hard as keeping them from her husband, so she chose to do her research at the public library.
Contrary to what the younger generation might believe, the internet wasn’t the only source of information. Much of what she obtained yesterday, for instance, couldn’t be found online. Older publications and local concerns weren’t always transcribed and uploaded to the web, which was why libraries were still so important. Now more than ever, educating the public on how to utilize a library was crucial; Sadie Bealls’ research assignment truly sounded brilliant.
Besides, using the library was quieter than working from the office, where Derron was prone to break out in conversation, song and dance, or, worse, all three at once. Here at the library, she had the entire place to herself. Other than Sadie Bealls, there was no one in sight.
Uploading the picture she had taken of the necklace, Madison waited while the engines ran a search to match images. Opening anoth
er window, she researched jewelers, both past and present, known for their unusual creations.
“If this doesn’t count as unusual, I don’t know what does!” she muttered to herself.
She ran searches on the general availability of loose rubies and diamonds, the cost of such, the tools required to make simple jewelry pieces, and even watched a YouTube video on making gem-studded creations. All the while, the image search ran in the background.
“If it’s having this much trouble finding a match,” she reasoned aloud, “at least there’s a certain level of comfort in knowing there are no other pieces out there like it.”
By now, she had firmly decided the piece fell into the ‘atrocious’ category.
“Hon?” The librarian’s voice preceded her into the research room where Madison ran her inquiries. “You still in there?”
“Yes, ma’am. Still working.”
“Oh, that’s no problem, hon. I was wondering if you could do me a big favor.”
“I’ll try.”
“I need to run some books over to Arlene Kopetsky. She fell and broke her leg and can’t make it into the library today. Every Wednesday, just like clockwork, she checks out three books for the week. She wants me to run them over to her real quick. Would you mind holding down the fort while I’m gone?”
“It’s not that I mind, but I’m afraid I don’t know anything about the library system,” Madison confessed.
“Oh, that’s okay, hon.” The librarian used a hushed, conspiratorial tone, even though no one else was around. “I doubt anyone will come in, anyway.” She smiled as if letting Madison in on a big secret.
Madison replied in kind. Smiling, she said in a loud whisper, “I’ll stall them if they do.”
“I won’t be but a minute. A chime sounds when someone opens the door, so you can just pop your head around the corner and let them know I’ll be right back.”
“No problem, Miss Sadie. I’ll be here.”
“Perfect!”
Before she turned away, Madison got a glimpse of the paperback titles she held in her hands. “Those are for Miss Arlene?” she questioned. “The organist at First Baptist?”