“You could never find it without the entire map,” he said. “The triangle drawings with their dots and lines cannot be interpreted unless you know what you are looking for. You will need the final third.”
“Is it all right if we try?”
“To find the center of the triangle, as Nanye’hi did behind the waterfall on the top of Ooneekawy, requires all three points. They may each be marked such that the unseeing eye never recognizes them at all. And do not forget,” he added with the hint of a humorous grin, “I devised their locations myself just so that people like you would not find them.”
He saw disappointment begin to creep over Cherity’s normally cheery face.
“But I understand your eagerness,” he went on. “I too was once young. So perhaps it is indeed time to place all three portions of the map together again and see what you can do with it.”
An excited walk to Richmond’s office followed. A few minutes later, for the first time since the night he had bade farewell to Richmond’s father in 1834, all three portions of the map he had drawn that day again were placed together on Richmond’s desk.
A lengthy explanation then took place, Brown showing them place after place on the reassembled paper that they recognized from his descriptions, telling them what to look for. As Cherity listened, she looked up at Chigua—they knew where two of the triangle’s three corners were located.
The next morning, Seth and Cherity were out early saddling their horses.
“Where are you two off to?” asked Carolyn when they came in for an early breakfast before setting out.
“Up to the Brown tract!” replied Seth. “Now that we know where to look, we want to see if we can decipher Mr. Brown’s markings.”
“I’ll run down to Sydney and Chigua’s,” said Cherity. “Chigua is coming with us.”
An hour later the three adventurers, along with Thomas, were on their way up the ridge. Brown and Richmond watched them go, Brown with an indulgent fatherly smile at their determination to make the attempt without him.
“How long will you allow them to search without coming to their aid?” asked Richmond.
“They will find the opening,” replied Brown. “If they are patient, I do not think I will need to assist them at all. I have given them all the information they need.”
Thirty minutes later, with the three segments of the completed map laid out before them on the table of Long Canoe Brown’s house, the two young Davidsons and the two Cherokee women were confident that at last the remaining mysteries of Mr. Brown’s tenure in Virginia decades before were about to be solved.
Excitedly Cherity and Chigua showed Seth and Thomas the tree Cherity had discovered with the markings carved in its bark, and the stone near the cave mouth that Deanna had seen, both of which they had been puzzling over ever since. Now that they knew what they were looking for, they were clearly visible on two of the three portions of the torn map, and corresponded exactly to Brown’s description. But the third set of symbols they would never have guessed, even with the map, had Brown not told them where to look.
The location of the third point of the triangle, as the basis for the cleverly devised Cherokee map, was inside the very house that had always been at the center of the mystery. For years they had been carved on the wall above the fireplace behind the skin painting.
With the completed map before them and knowing all three points of the triangle—the tree, the rock at the cave mouth, and the hearth inside the house—according to Brown’s instructions they set about carefully walking off and measuring a straight line between each of the three. It was difficult to do over hilly and sloping terrain, in a wood full of trees, and with half a mile between points. They then had to accurately calculate the midpoint of each line. From these three points, the three lines to the opposite corners should precisely intersect at the exact center of the triangle. There, Brown said, if they had done everything correctly, they would find a small and unremarkable pile of stones, no doubt long grown over with moss and grass and leaves and brush. Those stones, he said, were but the top of a great many stones that had taken him a year to carry to the site as he had filled in and buried from view a small opening about two feet in diameter—an opening that was in fact one end of a small tunnel into a much larger cave in the side of the hill. The opening was so small that it could only be entered by crawling on one’s hands and knees and belly, but, inside, it gradually opened wider. He had always suspected, Brown said, that it connected with other caves along the ridge, but he had not ventured all the way to the end of each of its labyrinth of tunnels. The large room near the opening he had discovered had suit his purpose and he had been satisfied with it. There he had hidden the relics of his people before blocking up the entry with hundreds of heavy stones, which he then covered over with dirt. It would never be found without knowing the precise place to look, which would be impossible to find without knowing the three corners of the cunningly conceived triangle.
Seventy-Eight
After the four treasure hunters rode up the hill toward the Brown tract, and leaving Brown himself in conversation with Carolyn and Sydney, Richmond Davidson rode out of Greenwood in another direction.
His errand on this day, perhaps even more unpleasant than his previous visit to his neighbor, would again take him to Oakbriar. He had been praying for months for guidance how to handle what he had surmised and now knew about the events of that fateful night of so many years before. Mr. Brown’s disclosure gave the final confirmation that his suspicions had been correct.
Richmond was a man who neither sought nor shrunk from confrontation. Believing in unity as one of the highest principles in the universe, he was intrinsically always looking for points of commonality and brotherhood in every human relationship and endeavor. Yet the commonality he sought was a brotherhood based in truth. And compromise of truth he hated almost as much as disunity within God’s true family of believers. So when he felt he must stand for truth, and against untruth, he would stand.
What to do in this present case had caused him no little uncertainty. Was his a wider obligation than to the truth alone? Or did he have a civic responsibility to discharge in the matter?
In the end, he had decided that he must only stand with God and with truth, and attempt to awaken something in the man’s conscience, but that accountability beyond that lay in God’s hands to attend to, not his. If the kingdom of his master was not of this world, then he would seek no retribution according to the world’s laws. God would have an eternity to see to what needed seeing to. He would only hope to open a few inner doors in the direction of that eternal healing in the here and now.
Richmond rode up to Oakbriar with a calm and determined heart. He well knew that this might be his final exchange with a man he had known all his life. That possibility made him mindful of how fleeting life truly is, and how rapidly it sped by. He prayed this might be the beginning of a season of renewal between them. Veronica’s changed character was nothing short of miraculous. Why not also her father? Yet Richmond’s expectations were realistic. He could only do what God had shown him to do, and leave the rest to the Spirit who quickens the hearts of men toward their heavenly Father.
He was shown by Jarvis upstairs into Denton Beaumont’s study. The cloud on his neighbor’s face did not bode well.
“Good morning, Denton,” said Richmond cheerfully, extending his hand. “Thank you for seeing me.”
“I should have thought after our last conversation that you would not have been eager to show yourself here again anytime soon.”
“We are neighbors, Denton. How are things going this season?”
“Wyatt is back and helping some, though I remain short of men.”
“Any word from Cameron? I understand he has still not returned.”
“No, nothing.”
“Well, we are all planted and have harvested one field of early wheat. If I could send a crew of men over to help you with anything, I would be happy to do so… with no obli
gation, of course.”
Beaumont nodded but offered no reply.
“What I came to talk with you about,” Richmond went on in a serious tone, “was to ask if you had given more thought to our previous discussion, and whether you have any further response?”
“I have thought about it,” answered Beaumont, “and am more convinced than ever that you have no right to interfere in my affairs. Do you actually have the gall to do so again?”
“I believe they are equally my affairs as yours… or if not mine, then God’s.”
“Bah! There you go again with your holier-than-thou claptrap! If they are God’s, then they are none of yours!”
“Then let me simply put it to you calmly and directly, Denton,” said Richmond. “I ask not only for myself, but on behalf of God too, whose children we are—did you kill my brother Clifford?”
The sudden directness of the question took Beaumont momentarily off guard. But only momentarily.
“How dare you make such an accusation!” he said angrily.
“I make no accusation, Denton, I merely pose it as a question.”
“I take it your mind is already made up,” rejoined Beaumont. “What good would it do for me to deny it?”
“Probably none.”
“There, you see!” retorted Beaumont. “You are prejudiced against me before even giving me the chance to defend myself!”
“There was a witness, Denton. I have it on his words. I only want to hear it from your own lips.”
“What witness, for God’s sake?” exploded Beaumont. “There was no one within—”
He stopped abruptly, realizing what he had done.
“Who is this so-called witness?” he shot back. “I don’t believe you for an instant. These are just more of your lies.”
“I have never told you a lie in my life, Denton.”
“Yes, and you are our resident saint, no doubt! I ask you again, who is the witness?”
“Mr. Brown.”
“He wasn’t anywhere near here. Everyone knows he had disappeared long before.”
“He came back, that same night.”
“How do you know all this? The old fool hasn’t been seen or heard from in years.”
“Until recently,” replied Richmond.” He just returned from the Oklahoma Territory. He and I have had a long talk about many things.”
The news seemed to sober Beaumont. But only briefly.
“And what of it?” he said after a moment. “Everyone knows the Indians are liars. He always had it out for me.”
“Denton, listen to yourself!” implored Richmond sadly. “He had no reason to have it out for you, and no reason to lie about what he saw and heard.”
“Then why would he make up such a preposterous story!”
“Why indeed? The logical explanation is that he did not make it up.”
“It is obvious that you believe him. Why should I try to defend myself? You would not believe me anyway. So what do you intend to do—press charges, turn me in… you will never prove a thing against me, Richmond.”
“I have no desire to turn you in. Proving anything against you is not my intent, Denton.”
“Then why in God’s name are you here?” roared Beaumont, rising from his chair in a fury.
“I am here in God’s name, as you say, Denton, to implore you to make a clean breast of it, to repent and cry out to your Father in heaven to forgive you. I beseech you to make yourself right with God, Denton, for your own sake, not for mine… not because anyone is going to turn you in, not for any reason but that you have sinned against God, and against one of his own, a precious one of his children, your own dear friend. How long must this go on, Denton? When will you make it right and ask your Father to make you clean and whole, that you might become his son?”
“Sinned, Richmond! You sound like a puritanical hellfire preacher! Would you turn my study into an altar? Repent… by God! Get out and do your worst! Take your story to the authorities if you want, but I will listen to no more of it. I will see the flames of hell lapping around me before I will repent on your orders! Get out, Richmond—I never want to see your face here again!”
With a depth of sadness such as he had never known, Richmond closed his eyes for a moment, then rose and left. No more words were ever spoken between the two men.
Beaumont sat down at his desk, trembling passionately, his face red with wrath, poured out a full glass of scotch and drank it down in two quick swallows.
Richmond stopped halfway back to Greenwood, led his mount off the road and rode a short distance out into the quiet countryside to a place of solitude, and there sat for some time and wept for his neighbor.
Seventy-Nine
When Richmond arrived back at Greenwood, Seth, Thomas, Cherity, and Chigua were just returning from Mr. Brown’s. They were excited and all talking at once, though had no progress to report toward locating the small pile of stones Mr. Brown had spoken of. But they remained optimistic.
To their flurry of questions, Brown himself only returned a knowing, but silent smile. He knew, even from their uncertainties, that they would be successful in the end. He did not want to spoil the enthusiasm of discovery by giving them more information than absolutely necessary.
“How did you measure the halfway distance between the parts of the triangle?” Richmond asked.
“By pacing them off,” replied Seth.
“Not the most accurate of methods, over such uneven terrain.”
“What else could we do?” asked Thomas.
“Perhaps you need to measure hundred-foot lengths of rope and try to get a more precise measurement. Failing that, we might have to get some surveying equipment.”
“I think we could do it by means of rope, Dad,” rejoined Seth. “What we really need to do is stretch a straight line between the points of the triangle, to make sure we do indeed have a straight line. If we are even a foot or two off, we might never find those stones. But that would take a half mile of rope!”
It took several more visits to the Brown tract with all the rope they could tie together—and by now Sydney and Richmond were involved and had summoned the full strength of their deductive and engineering powers—to run straight lines between the points of the triangle at the hearth, the stone, and the tree, and to compute the midpoints and again to run straight lines from them to the opposite corners of the triangle. After three days, they were convinced they were close. Brown himself was now accompanying them and enjoying the adventure immensely, though continued to keep his own counsel.
They had narrowed their search to a thirty-by thirty-foot section of a pine wood some three eighths of a mile up the hill from Mr. Brown’s former home. However, no pile of stones was to be seen amid the grass and moss and accumulated humus of many years, and no amount of entreaty would induce Brown to give so much as a hint by word or gesture whether they were on the right track. Eventually they took everyone to the site with them—Carolyn and the Shaws and the rest of the LeFleures. The entire company stretched out together hand in hand across the clearing, then sunk to their hands and knees and began creeping across the forest floor, feeling and probing and digging with hands and fingers as they went over every inch of the ground. As he watched, Brown could hardly contain himself with surpressed merriment.
At last it was thirteen-year-old Laylie LeFleure who shouted, “Here’s some rocks under the grass!”
They all swarmed around, and as they helped her frantically clear away the vegetation, more stones became visible. The more they pulled off the pile, the more were revealed below.
All afternoon the men worked, hauling away the stones as they found themselves going steadily deeper on a slant into the side of the hill. There could be no doubt that they had at last discovered the tunnel leading to Mr. Brown’s secret cave.
When at last an opening was cleared and the rocks from inside, some sizeable, removed, Seth and Thomas and Cherity were all beside themselves with eagerness to be the first to crawl in. The South
ern gentlemanly spirit—though reluctantly!—prevailed. Cherity got down on her stomach and wriggled out of sight, followed by Thomas, then Seth. To the onlookers it was indeed a strange sight, but certain confirmation that they had indeed discovered something incredible, for within seconds all three sets of legs disappeared and all they could hear were muffled sounds coming from the black hole they had excavated.
Twenty or more seconds passed. Richmond, Carolyn, Sydney, Chigua, Aaron, Isaac, and Sydney’s two sons Milos and Darel and daughter Laylie all knelt listening at the opening.
“It’s pitch black!” at last came Seth’s voice echoing back toward them. “We can’t see a thing! Get a lantern from the house!”
Ten minutes later, a lit lantern was being shoved into the hole.
“In you go, Isaac!” said Richmond.
Now Isaac scooted inside, followed by his brother along with Darel and Milos. Richmond and Carolyn, and Sydney and Chigua and Laylie were at last left alone outside on either side of Mr. Brown.
When Isaac’s face became visible where Cherity, Seth, and Thomas sat in the dark, shoving the lantern in ahead of him, the sight that the flickering flame illuminated was nothing short of spectacular. They all gazed around with silent awe at the cave which had opened to a room of seven or eight feet high and probably twelve feet across.
Curious but willing to wait rather than go in themselves, Richmond and Sydney sat listening to the far-off muffled echoes from inside. Finally they heard movement, and a few seconds later Seth’s head appeared as he crawled back out to join them.
“Look at this, Dad!” he said, shoving a small but heavy metal box in front of him as he came. It was about six inches by four inches and some three inches in height and appeared to be made of some non-corrosive material, mostly brass judging from the green stains, though some of the fittings looked to be of silver. Richmond knelt down but could hardly pick it up. He left it on the ground and lifted the lid. The box was full of gold nuggets of varying size, from tiny pebbles up to some an inch in diameter.
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