Alvarado Gold

by Victoria Pitts-Caine

  Addie,

  I want you to leave me alone. You and Clayton’s bunch stay away from Barnesville. I know you’re aware of the gold and I also know you have no claim to it. My father left the key with me and I intend to find it. It’s rightfully mine. The family has been looking for the last 120 years. Two of our great uncles nearly killed each other over it. Dad and Uncle Clayton argued, too. When they went down there, Dad wanted to keep looking but Clayton gave up. As far as I’m concerned he gave up his rights, too. Stay away. I’m warning you.

  DJB

  “Am I missing something here?” I shook my head. “We barely knew about the gold until this past week. Why is Donnie so upset?”

  “We’re going to find out eventually.” Mel pulled her bags out of the back of Clay’s van and talked between distributing our luggage. “When are we coming back?”

  “Is Labor Day weekend good for everyone?” I asked.

  Susan shifted from one foot to another. “Do you think we should come sooner?” I’d noticed any confrontation made her nervous. “Maybe we should try to find the gold before Donnie.”

  “My bet is he isn’t going to find it without us. We’ll give him a head start. Everyone plan to meet back here the first weekend in September.” I rummaged around in my purse and found my ticket for San Jose. Susan and I would go together as far as Sacramento. We all hugged each other good-bye. Mel headed off to another terminal for her flight to Virginia, Clay struck out for Arizona and Susan and I boarded a flight to California.

  It felt to me as if the four of us were being scattered by the wind, blown like so much dust. Even though I knew we’d all be brought together at least once more at the end of the summer in Barnesville, I wanted to hold on to what we’d found in each other. I needed to believe the fragility of my newly acquired family would become strong and the wounds would heal. What our parent’s had failed to hold together, possibly the four of us could. To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under heaven.

  Chapter Seven

  Susan shook me awake. A nonsensical dream crept through the shadowy corners of my brain. Donnie chased me through a graveyard as I aimlessly ran and stumbled across the Texas prairie, the tortoiseshell box clamped in my arms. I shook off sleep, glad to be free of the irritating nightmare and what it either meant or foretold.

  “We’re landing; buckle up.”

  “Are we in Sacramento already?” I yawned. “I’m glad you woke me. I had a crazy dream about Donnie.”

  “Are you worried about him, Addie?”

  “Not really. I just can’t piece everything together. Maybe when I look through some of the paperwork and old letters I sent home this will all make more sense.” Maybe I can figure out what Gary Wright’s part is.

  The overhead speaker crackled and the flight attendant repeated his canned speech, “Welcome to Sacramento, California, temperature 85 degrees. For those passengers flying on to San Jose, the flight resumes in twenty-five minutes.”

  “This is it, Susan. I guess I’ll see you in September.” I smiled up at her as she took a box from the overhead compartment. “One day you need to tell me why you were so infatuated with the dress.”

  “Brad and I have a wedding anniversary soon. I thought I’d wear it then.” Susan smiled shyly. “We’re renewing our vows.”

  “No kidding. I’d better be invited. Also, I want to hear all about it. I’ll call you next week.”

  She turned and waved. As she reached the doors, her eyes shone.

  After the short hop to San Jose, I felt the wheels skid on the tarmac. The pilot taxied to a stop. As I daydreamed, lost, deep in thought, I knew Brad would meet Susan at the airport and, three thousand miles away, Richard retrieved Mel. I felt a pang of envy. There wouldn’t be anyone who waited for me, not even a best friend. I’d pick up Mollie on my way home at the kennel I’d sentenced her to in my absence. As close to me as I’d let anyone or anything be, I missed the shaggy mutt.

  The old gray Ford, covered with two weeks of dust, looked really good when I spotted it in the south parking lot, number K-14. Not that I’d thought anyone would steal a twelve-year-old car, but it comforted me to see it stayed where I’d left it.

  I drove the six blocks to the kennel with the window down but with no radio blaring, which was my usual style. I needed to think. I didn’t need any distraction and the breeze would clear my head. I had a lot to mull over about the trip back to Texas. And for some gnawing reason in the back of my brain, I knew I’d find something else in one of those boxes of papers I’d sent home. I always had a sixth sense about things, bells going off, little “ah oh” voices and second hunches.

  Jack, my ex-boss, felt my hunches kept me adept at restoration. I always knew what kind of chemicals to use on what papers and how to preserve things just exactly right. I’d let my intuition carry me more than once through a sticky situation. I was going to have to use that gut feeling to get me through the rest of the summer, too.

  When she saw me, Mollie nearly knocked me over while she delivered slobbery, dog breath kisses. She is a short, stocky dog the vet termed “German Shepherd and who knows what else.” Except for the pointed nose, she didn’t look much like a German Shepherd. Her tail curled, longish fur split down the middle of her back and her legs were short and squatty. The fact she was built like an anchor helped me lose my footing more than once when she was glad to see me. Another trait of hers, a bird dog point came in useful when the jays landed on the patio. So “who knows” correctly described her.

  Mollie jumped into the shotgun seat, her usual place. We were off to the post office to retrieve my boxes. I went through the drive-up at a fast-food place on the way and Mollie and I ate a combo meal. She gobbled the burger. I ate the fries and drank the cola. The post office wasn’t busy but I didn’t want to leave Mollie in the car. I took her as far as the door and tied her leash around a post. I could see her from the counter and knew she wanted to keep an eye on me, too. I loaded the boxes in the back seat; they looked like so much more than I’d originally sent. I had my work cut out for me.

  When we turned the corner to the condo, Mollie started barking. Guilt crept into the corners of my mind, knowing she wasn’t going to be too happy with me come September when I had to leave her again.

  It felt good to be back. I turned the key in the front door lock and looked around. The condo was just as I’d left it. No cleaning fairies had visited and my little jungle of houseplants, left in the kitchen sink in their own life giving pool of tap water, had survived. A miracle considering my less than green thumb. Glancing over at the blinking light on my answering machine, I groaned to Mollie, “Twenty messages.” She looked up, but her only care was her empty food dish. I scratched her shaggy head and dutifully filled the empty bowl with dry dog food. “We’ll have something better later,” I promised.

  I lugged in my suitcase, the three large boxes from the post office and my leftover fries. Exhausted, I’d put up all my junk tomorrow. Grabbing a pencil, I listened to my messages. Most of the phone numbers were easily recognizable including Eric, Mel, Eric, and the VP from Docurestore. I wondered what my old boss wanted but punched on through all the phone numbers–only interested, for now, in the ones I couldn’t automatically identify. There were five numbers I didn’t know, all trying to sell me something which I deleted. Then the last number, a call that morning was from a Houston prefix. Almost ignoring it and figuring Mr. Darrow wanted something, I finally decided to listen. To my chagrin, I was not totally displeased to hear Gary Wright’s deep, baritone voice come from the speaker. “Call me. I’ve some interesting information for you. Oh…thanks for my church list.” What could he possibly want now? Why did he have that list of churches and why…why did he bother me so?

  Chapter Eight

  I awakened the next morning to Mollie’s gentle nudge. She sat quietly by the bed either wanting to go out or have her breakfast dish filled. “Mollie, let me sleep.” Then, remembering the phone message, I rolled over
to look at the clock, eight a.m. “What time is it in Houston?” Why was that the first thought to cross my mind? Talking to a dog had its advantages. They didn’t answer back or give an opinion. If Mollie thought like a human, she probably would think I’d lost my mind.

  I slid my feet to the floor and stumbled into the kitchen, started coffee and took Mollie outside. Sitting on my matchbook-sized patio, I tried to mentally organize my day. First, I’ll do the unpacking, then I’ll go through the boxes. But the stupid, little voice in my head kept interrupting. Call him.

  Going back inside, I dragged my suitcase into the laundry room. I’ll just wash from here. No use in unpacking it to stuff it into the laundry basket.

  I went into the kitchen for a cup of coffee and decided my next move would be to tackle the boxes stacked in the dining room. I slit the tape and moved a stack of papers to the table. I spotted my grandparents’ old Bible and withdrew it from the box. It had been wrapped in acid-free paper from a local art store in Houston. I’d planned to box it up and put it away but decided to place it on one of the end tables in the living room. Fingering the worn leather on the edge of the cover started me thinking about my relationship with God. How long had it been since I’d darkened a church’s door? It wasn’t as though I didn’t believe; organized religion just wasn’t part of my routine any more. It had been once, though, before Dad died and everything started to fall apart. I sighed, set the Bible down and returned to the table.

  I sat there nearly an hour going over newspaper articles, old letters, and documents, but nothing provided information about our gold finding expedition. I was slowly progressing through the pictures when I found two snapshots of churches. One marked the Old Barnesville Church and the other, the New Church. These could be of interest to Mr. Wright. Maybe Mr. Darrow had told him something about us. I should at least hear him out. Then the phone rang. Maybe it was the BLM guy. Why do I care?

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Ad. It’s Eric.”

  “Yeah. Hi.” Do I sound disappointed?

  “You didn’t call,” he said. “When did you get in?”

  “Yesterday. I meant to call you this morning.” Sure I did.

  “Anything happen after I left?” I could hear Eric tapping at his keyboard. I knew he wasn’t paying attention.

  “Yeah. We worked our fannies off. You’re going to get sixteen grand for our efforts.” I felt the old sibling irritation rising in my veins.

  “Addie, you know I’m involved here and don’t have time for that stuff.”

  “You’ll have time to take your part of the money though, won’t you?”

  “Anything else?” he changed the subject.

  “There was a private investigator who had a run-in with Mel and Donnie threatened me. Nothing too special.”

  Eric stopped tapping. “Threatened you about what?”

  “The gold.” I knew that would get his attention.

  “What gold?”

  I unwound the story as detailed as I could. He had a few questions and then I asked, “Do you want to go with us?” That sent him off on another one of his outbursts of how his job kept him busy.

  I cut him off. “I’ll be in touch.” I’d let him get to me again.

  I went back to my papers. I slid my hand back into the stack and recoiled with a paper cut. A small, yellowed note floated from the top of the stack to the floor. The old paper crumbled as I opened it. Great, it is written in Spanish. Even though I wished I’d paid attention to my classes in high school, one word stood out on the page I didn’t need a Spanish class to interpret. The fourth word in on the first line. Oro–gold.

  I picked out a few other words, numbers of some sort but needed to find someone who would translate for me. I also wanted to call Jack, my old boss at Docurestore. First, I wanted to know why he’d called and second to see if he could date the letter and the piece of paper with the coordinates on it. I knew C-14 carbon dating wouldn’t be good because the intensity of radioactivity had hardly begun to decline in something this “new” but maybe Jack would have another suggestion.

  I glanced at the clock, noon, two in Houston. “Should I call Mr. Wright? No, I’ll call Jack first.” Mollie looked up at me with an expectant gaze but she lay back down on her pillow and closed her eyes.

  I dialed Jack, and after the sixth ring, I took the phone away from my ear, ready to hang up, when he answered. “Peterson,” came the same old, gruff voice.

  “Hey, Jack. It’s Addie. How’ve you been?” I tried to sound nonchalant but I was secretly dying to see what he wanted.

  “Not so good, Addie,” he confessed. “I need some help from you.”

  Now he had my interest. “Me? I thought I was always pretty dispensable.”

  “You remember the big job I bid on for the museum in Cairo? Well, we got it. Then Judy quit and Sandy left to get married. I’m the only one here with enough experience to work on the restoration project.” He sounded tired and overwhelmed. No wonder he’d called.

  “What are you proposing, Jack? Do you want me to come back?” Fishing and he knew it. Did I really want my old job back or did I want to switch gears now and do something else?

  “If you could at least come back for the summer it would be great. The museum project should be wrapped up by then. I’ll leave it up to you, Addie. I’d love to have you back here and could really use your help but I won’t twist your arm.” He almost sounded pitiful. I liked Jack. He’d always been good to me, but this smelled of one of his usual foul-ups. He’d bid a job way too low, then we’d get it and be swamped. He’d jump in and help us dig our way out of the mess but we’d usually lose a good employee or two in the process.

  “Give me a couple of days, Jack. I’ll come back for the summer. There is somewhere I have to go in early September but just for a few days. We can renegotiate then.” Maybe I sounded too eager but I could hear him sigh in relief. “I have some old letters I want you to look at, too. I’m pretty sure when they were written but was wondering if you could help me date them to be sure.”

  “Not a problem.” Jack’s voice sounded unsure. It almost seemed he didn’t want to tell me something. “Oh, and Addie, some things have happened while you’ve been gone.”

  “What happened, Jack?”

  “There was a shake up here at work but I want to tell you that part face to face,” Jack hedged. “And, Addie, Eric called. He wanted to know if he could talk me into hiring you back.”

  “Oh, for the love of Mike! Is that why you called me, Jack? If that’s the case then, I won’t come back.”

  “No, Addie, I really do need you. Please. Cut Eric some slack. He only cares about you.”

  “I know he went to college with your son and thinks he got me the job at Docurestore, but he didn’t even have any idea I’d applied until I had it all sown up.” Eric had managed to hit yet another nerve.

  “Someone named Gary Wright also called a few of times looking for you. Who’s he?” Jack seemed pensive. I hated it when he decided he wanted to act like my father. “Catherine told me he was really digging for information to find you.”

  “He’s someone I met at the Bureau of Land Management when we were looking for some old land grants. He probably has more news and had enough clues to track me down. I am surprised though that he called work.” This was proving to be an interesting call all the way around. “Okay, Jack. I have a lot to do but I’ll see you at nine on Thursday morning. Clear me off a space I can call mine for the next couple of months.”

  I clicked the receiver down in the cradle, furious with Eric. He always tried to fix things for me. I am twenty-eight years old! Why can’t he just let me be a grown up all by myself? I wasn’t in the mood to think about him. I let my temper cool off a bit, but not much, before the phone rang. I recognized the Houston number, Gary Wright. Why was he putting so much effort into locating me?

  "Ms. Brown, this is Gary Wright. Remember? From the BLM office? You had my papers."

  I could feel the
breath go out of my lungs. “How did you manage to track me down?”

  “You signed the registry, Addie.” He tirelessly babbled on, “And David, remember I know David.”

  “Touché. And it’s Ms. Brown.” The sharpness in my voice lingered from my anger with Eric. "You have a lot of nerve, Mr. Wright. You went to a great deal of trouble to find me and, as a researcher, I applaud that but getting my home phone number is a bit much. What makes you think I even want to talk to you?"

  I heard him laugh, “I couldn’t forget someone like you.”

  "I don't need any of your slick lines, either. I've heard them all." A pick-up line, not what I expected from him but the idea had possibilities.

  "You have a great opinion of yourself, don't you, Ms. Brown?"

  "Ouch. I had that one coming." I grimaced and felt the heat rise in cheeks. "Okay. What was so important you needed to locate me?"

  "I wanted to talk with you.” Mr. Wright sounded earnest. “I have something very important to tell you."

  "And that would be?" I was running out of patience with this guy. What did he really want? Was it me? I seriously doubted it. He seemed interested in far more than he let on.

  "Whoa! I didn't mean to get off on the wrong foot with you. I just had more information on the cave near the cemetery. I know the territory as I’m working on a project there for my mother’s church, which is located in Johnson County.” He paused. “You had my list of churches. I thought you'd be curious, that's all. You and your sister can’t go out there alone. Barnesville is in a rough, undeveloped area. I’d like to offer to go with you.”

  “Well, first of all she’s my cousin, not my sister. And no, you won’t go with us. I have too many people telling me what they’re going to do for me right now. I don’t need to add you to my list. I tried to make it clear to you before; you’re not coming along. Good-bye Mr. Wright. I need to go.” I cut him off before he could protest.