Twisting around, I managed to work one arm behind me into what seemed to be an offset in our enclosure. My fingers probed a fair-sized opening we had not noticed when we crawled under the ledge. Was it only a shallow cleft in the rock? Cautiously, I ran my hand along the smooth, dry sides of this area that I could not see, but only feel. Gently, I patted the floor of this space, and traced a square shape, like a step. Leaning farther backward, I felt another square below this one. My heart turned over. These were steps. How far down they went and where they led, I did not know nor care. They offered the possibility of a better hiding place and I did not question the serendipitous finding.
Shaking my mother’s arm, I leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Don’t say a word, Mom. Just follow me.”
Flopping onto my stomach, I squeezed, head first, down the first two stone steps. I heard my mother slithering along behind me. The passage through which I slid was narrow with barely enough room for my body to pass through. Raising one hand over my head, I felt nothing but space. Cautiously, I rose to my knees, then to my feet. Unbelievably, I was able to stand. Stretching my hand as far as I could above me, I was not able to touch a ceiling. Although the height of this tunnel had increased considerably, it was barely wide enough to allow us passage. Slowly and carefully, I tested each step with my toe before moving downward. I inched along into silence as complete as a tomb except for the sound of my mother, breathing heavily behind me.
This was no labyrinth we traveled. No other tunnels intersected this one. The passageway led steeply down, with no twists and turns. With each step, we descended farther into the subterranean depths of Ventris County, and we were still as lost as we had been above ground.
I knew the moment our pursuers found our little hideaway. I heard that guttural voice exclaim, as if he were far away, “They aren’t here!”
Grabbing my mother’s wrist, we stood, hardly daring to breathe. Then, once again silence fell, as complete as the darkness that surrounded us.
Did we dare retrace out steps and crawl out? Was it safe or would Drake and his companion return?
Standing against the smooth walls of the tunnel for what seemed to be hours, I heard no further sound except the thundering of my heart and Mom’s breathing.
Finally, she whispered in a voice that echoed eerily in that chamber, “Let’s go on a little farther, Darcy. These stairs lead somewhere. Maybe there’s another way out.”
I couldn’t argue with that, especially since I was too weak to face the possibility that if we returned the way we had come, we might crawl right into the arms of death.
Forcing myself to focus on each slow, sliding step, I fought the panic that threatened to raise its ugly head. Claustrophobia had never been a problem for me, but I could not see where I was going and the sides of this tunnel seemed to be closing in. I was definitely claustrophobic now.
Mom’s hand pressed lightly on my back. I knew this was as much to comfort me as it was to be certain we were not lost from each other in the inky blackness. Would we suddenly step off into a bottomless pit and disappear forever? Silently, I prayed that God would guide us. What a time to remember stories of rattlesnake dens hidden far underground. My shivering shot into high gear.
I had always believed that I could choose my own thoughts. Unwelcome ones might come knocking, but I didn’t have to invite them in. However, I had never before been below the earth in an unknown, unrelenting darkness with death waiting above and who knew what waiting below. Now, memories of teenage tales told at slumber parties or around a campfire crept up on me and I could not dispel them. Stories of unexplained lights flickering near old graveyards, of strangers who mysteriously disappeared, of eerie nighttime noises, not only knocked at my mind’s door, they moved in and took up residence.
Sadly, I had not counted the steps as I descended. It was too late to do so now. Had we gone twenty or fifty feet under the earth? My head pounded and I labored to draw in each breath and expel it, fighting the urge to run back up to daylight and fresh air.
Mom saw it before I did. “Darcy,” she whispered in my ear. “Look.”
The blackness was no longer absolute. I blinked. Did I see a dim glow somewhere ahead? Rubbing my eyes, I looked again. Yes, there was no doubt about it. A faint light flickered below us.
Forgetting my discomfort, I hurried down the last two steps, which ended in a level stone floor. The flickering gleam came from a lantern hanging from a peg stuck into a crack in the cave wall.
Gripping my mother’s hand, I pointed to that wonderful light, feeling like laughing and crying at the same time.
A lantern that was burning meant some human hand had struck a match to it and not so long ago that the kerosene had been consumed. A lowly lantern had never looked more welcome, no matter who had placed it there.
My mother breathed either an exclamation or a prayer that sounded like, “Dear Lord.”
Closing my eyes, I wondered if I was dreaming but, no, when I looked again, the lantern was still there.
“Where are we, Mom?” I asked. “What is this place?”
“I have no idea,” she said faintly. “I am just as dazed as you. Maybe we are both dreaming. Maybe that wreck injured us more than we thought. Maybe this is just an hallucination.”
“I’ve never heard of a joint hallucination,” I said, “but nothing is impossible.”
Looking around slowly, I saw that we were in a circular area about the size of my mother’s kitchen. The lantern dispelled total darkness, but it left much of the cave in shadows.
“I don’t understand any of it,” I said, “but I’ve never been so glad to see a light in all my life.”
Where were we and who had been here before us? Who left the lamp and when did he light it? Would he return soon? Surely, that unknown person was not a threat to us. And, almost certainly, Drake and his friend did not know about this underground room or they would have been following us.
Mom’s whisper seemed as loud as a shout. “A kiva,” she said. “It must be a kiva. I’ve read about them.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, noting the way she was turning slowly around as she scrutinized the area.
“Kivas were places where early people would store their grain. Or, sometimes they were used as meeting places, or . . . I don’t know, Darcy. It just seems to be a whole lot more than a cave.”
I agreed. The flickering glow glinted on something on the wall near my outstretched hand. Stepping closer, I examined what seemed to be a drawing etched into the rock. Reaching up, I traced an outline of a figure.
It took a few moments for my vocal chords to work. Gulping, I said, “An owl, Mom. This is a drawing of an owl.”
We both stared at the strange image. Curiously disproportioned, it had a huge, round body with a small head that was made up almost entirely of enormous eyes. Shiny, black pupils as bright as onyx glowed in those eyes. Had they been painted with some sort of glossy enamel? Were they circular pieces of a shiny, black gem? The murky light made it impossible to scrutinize them closely, but those eyes sent a chill down my spine. They seemed to follow me when I moved to the right or the left.
Turning to my mother, I sputtered, “The owl, Mom. Remember what Jasper said? Something about an owl knowing where Ben is. And then, that word on the map, the Cherokee word for owl.”
Mom covered her nose with her hand. “That smell. I’ve just noticed it. Oh, Darcy! What is that horrible odor?”
Sniffing, I gagged. This was a stench that once a person smells it, they can never forget. I hadn’t noticed it at first, but now a drought of air brought a repugnant foulness full force into my nostrils.
The sickening scent seemed to come from a shadowy object on the side of the cave farthest from the lantern. Pulling my t-shirt over my nose, I stepped closer. On the floor lay a bundle wrapped in what appeared to be a flowery, homemade quilt. The covering had slipped away from a green plaid shirt. One of the person’s hands protruded from the quilt, a left hand w
ith a missing third finger. We had stumbled onto the place where Jasper placed Ben. The quilt was undoubtedly one of Pat’s. He had laid Ben where he would be safe, Jasper said, where Ben wanted to be.
My mother’s raspy breathing was akin to gasps. “Is it . . . is it him?” she asked hoarsely. Then, she answered her own question. “It is. It’s Ben.”
At that moment, I would have given everything I owned to keep her from seeing this ghastly sight. But, of course, there was nothing I could do.
She swayed against me and I grabbed her before she slid to the floor. As I backed away from that awful bundle, I was unable to take my eyes off it. Now that we had found him, what could we do? Was Ben’s tomb going to be ours too? Were two murderers waiting, even now, to shoot us if we dared climb up out of this cavern?
Drawing a shuddering breath, Mom whispered, “I’m all right. This is not really Ben. He has gone on to a far better place.”
I tried to think of some sort of benediction I could give to Mom’s old friend, but my mind was frozen.
“He was a good man,” I said. “He is at peace now. He’s with God.”
In a rush, the events of this harrowing day caught up with me—the pounding in my head, the dizziness and loss of blood assaulted me in a wave of nausea. Fighting against the need to let go of consciousness and sink into oblivion, I struggled to remain on my feet.
Staggering a couple of steps, I leaned against the wall. At first, I thought the movement beneath my shoulder was just vertigo and I was losing the battle to stay upright. Was I keeling over like a root-pulled sapling, or had the wall actually moved?
I stepped away just as a portion of the side of the cave swung inward. A narrow panel in the solid rock moved backward as if on a pivot and disappeared while another panel swung outward, like a giant lazy Susan.
Rubbing my eyes, I blinked and looked again. Mom’s quick intake of breath told me she saw the same thing. Unbelievable though it seemed, I had inadvertently opened a hidden compartment built into the side of this cavern.
The shock of this discovery kicked my flagging system into gear, and I stepped closer to this amazing discovery. Shelves lined the rock panel. Putting out my hand, I started to touch them, then drew back. On the exposed ledges within the panel lay two flat wood boxes and three leather drawstring bags. Both boxes had small lock plates made of polished metal that glowed a ghostly greenish yellow in the flickering light. I knew at once what those lock plates were made of and where the metal came from.
Mom whispered, “Could this be what Ben was murdered for? Is this his gold?”
Ben had told the New York City antiques dealer that the medallion had come from a trunkful of other gold objects. Did those boxes and bags on the shelves contain the rest of Ben’s hidden treasure? People had searched, lied, and killed in attempts to find the hiding place and yet we had stumbled onto it accidentally. It must have been decreed somewhere that two bumbling, sick, and terrorized women were to be the ones to uncover an ancient mystery.
Finally, my curiosity overcame my amazement. “I’ve got to know, Mom,” I said. “What is in those two boxes and those leather bags? Is it really the gold from Georgia? We’ve suffered a lot because of a hidden treasure and I’ve got to know if we’ve found it.”
My mother nodded. Silently, she reached for the box nearest to us and lifted the lid. The lantern’s light glinted on a treasure straight out of the dream about a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Neatly arranged in a tray, laid out carefully side by side on strips of something that may have been deerskin, lay the Dahlonega gold. The items ranged from a hair ornament the size of a rosebud to a medallion shaped like a flying eagle and as big as a silver dollar. Every priceless piece shone with the same strange luster that identified my mother’s ring.
I counted four rows and a dozen items in each row. Mom replaced the lid on the first box and opened the second one. It too contained four neat rows of gold pieces whose exquisite workmanship spoke of expert goldsmiths. Each item was perfect in shape and balance. Carefully, I lifted out an intricate butterfly. Even the tiny antennae were lifelike. Dust from the leather bag had settled over its outspread wings. Gently, I rubbed it with my finger. Feeling as if I could gaze at this lovely object forever, I understood the greed that took over the lives of men and drove them to commit lawless acts. I understood what it meant to have gold fever. I placed the butterfly back into its bed.
Reaching for one of the pouches, I loosened the drawstring, and shook out its contents. Gold nuggets lay in my palm. These chunks of precious metal ranged from the size of a marble to a golf ball. Each bag was approximately six inches long and perhaps six inches around. Losing track of time, I stared until my mother shook my arm.
“Let’s put it all back, Darcy,” she said. “And we’ll shove the wall back around so they are hidden again.”
Air whooshed from my lungs. “Mom! Do you realize what you are saying? Do you want the gold to just stay here forever?”
“Think, Darcy,” she said. “If we don’t get out of this dungeon, all the gold in the world won’t do us any good.”
Replacing the bag, I pushed the edge of the rock lazy Susan. It obediently turned until it became part of the cave wall once more.
My legs trembled so badly, I could no longer stand. Sinking down on the cold floor, I gazed up at the owl etched in the wall beside the hidden door. In this one room were Ben, the owl, and the gold.
Shaking my head, I said, “I wonder if Jasper knows about the gold or if he just happened to find this cave and thought it was a good hiding place for Ben?”
Mom spoke softly. “I’ve been thinking about where we are, Darcy. I believe this cave might be right under Ben’s pasture. I’m pretty sure we were on his land when we hid under that ledge that was the doorway to the cave.”
“Maybe that ledge was the spot marked on the map. Do you think?”
She shrugged. “The area has changed a lot since the map was made—how long ago? A hundred years? Two hundred?”
“I don’t see how Jasper could have carried Ben down that long flight of stairs. It’s too narrow and that would be almost impossible, even for someone as big and husky as Jasper.”
“Well, then,” Mom said, “there must be another way of getting into this cavern.”
With the gold out of sight once more, a measure of my clear thinking returned. “I’m going to look around this room and see if there’s a door somewhere.”
Unhooking the lantern from its peg, I held it above my head, and walked slowly around this circular cave, running my hand across the wall as I walked. Close beside Ben’s body, I touched wood. Holding my lantern closer, I saw a doorknob protruding from an ordinary-looking door.
I shouted, “Mom! Come take a look at this!”
“What is it?” she asked, purposely averting her eyes from that pitiful bundle wrapped in the quilt.
“It’s a door, but I think it’s stuck. Help me pull.”
I yanked on the door until it creaked open a couple of inches. My mother slid her fingers into this crack and pulled as I tugged on the knob again. With a nerve-shattering shriek, the door swung inward on rusty hinges.
The lantern shone on an earthen tunnel which slanted upward. I didn’t care how steep it was, since the direction was up instead of down.
“Hurry! Hurry,” I urged. “This has got to lead to the light of day and freedom! Come on, Mom.”
She hesitated. “Darcy, wait now. We know that we can get out by going back the way we came. Maybe Drake and his friend are long gone by now. We don’t know where this doorway leads. We could be walking into a trap.”
Pausing, I thought this over. She was right, of course. On the other hand, the two crooks could still be looking for us in the bluff area. And, after we had retraced our steps, we still wouldn’t know which way to go to get help.
“This can’t be any more dangerous than finding ourselves on that bluff again, Mom. Remember, we were trying to find a way off it when we discovered tha
t tunnel.”
She looked at Ben, her eyes brimming with tears. “Jasper was right. Ben is where he would want to be. In a way, I guess he’s buried. He shouldn’t be moved. Maybe we ought not to tell anybody about finding him or the gold.”
Now, I was worried about her mind. She wasn’t thinking clearly. “You know that we’ll have to tell Grant, Mom. He has to know everything, and this time, I’m not keeping anything a secret.”
“I believe in respecting a person’s last wishes,” Mom said. “This would be what Ben wanted.”
What I wanted was to scream. “Mom,” I said as patiently as I could, “Ben is dead. He’s dead! What he wanted doesn’t matter anymore. And it is all Ben’s fault that we are in this predicament, running for our lives. Why on earth did he tell you anything about that gold? He sure wasn’t thinking about your welfare.”
“Darcy!” Mom looked as shocked as she sounded and I was immediately sorry for my outburst. “Ben didn’t ask to be guardian for this gold, either.”
“I know, I know. It was handed down to him by his father and grandfather. The point is, the secret could have died with him and I quite frankly wish it had.”
“You’ll feel better when you are safe,” Mom said.
Gritting my teeth, I held my tongue. Grasping the lantern and my mother’s hand, I squeezed through the door and started up yet another tunnel, this one made of dirt.
My legs ached as I leaned into the path that slanted sharply upward. Silently, I prayed that this dark passageway would not turn out to be our grave. My fondest hope was that I would not be buried until after I died.
The Cemetery Club (Darcy & Flora Cozy Mystery Book 1) Page 16