Samuel nodded. “He could break a horse with the sound of his voice. He could catch a fish by whispering a few words and simply wait for it to swim into his hands.”
“Forgive me, but it sounds like a fairly common legend,” Angel said. “I’m sure I’ve heard a hundred similar tales from other families and certainly from other nations.”
“Perhaps, but despite his reputation, everyone at the time seemed to take his power as a matter of fact. Many claim to have witnessed his abilities firsthand. According to my great-grandfather, the two of them once stumbled upon a mountain lion’s den. Wanting to protect her cubs, the mother charged at them. Esau took one look at her, waved his hand, and said ‘Shoo!’”
“And it worked?” Maddock asked.
“Yes.” Samuel took another sip of coffee, closed his eyes, and smiled. “Excellent.” He sat up a little straighter, as if the drink had fortified him, and went on. “When the War Between the States broke out, Esau left to join the Union army. He took his treasure with him for good luck. During the Chickamauga campaign, he and his unit found themselves separated from their main force. Trapped by the Confederates, they were slaughtered. Only Esau managed to stay alive by hiding in a cave behind a waterfall. He remained there, living off the raw fish he summoned, waiting for the enemy troops to leave the area. Finally, realizing he stood little chance of making his way through enemy lines and back to the Union forces, and not wanting to lose his treasure, he hid it in a crack in the cave wall, intending to come back for it someday.”
“I’m guessing he never went back for it?” Bones asked.
Samuel shook his head. “He was captured and spent the rest of the war wasting away in Andersonville.”
Maddock let out a tiny whistle. Now a national historical site, Andersonville was a notorious Confederate prison camp. Captured Union soldiers were penned in an open stockade with no protection from the elements, and kept away from the shelter of the prison walls by the threat of the death line — an invisible line that marked out a buffer zone between the prisoners and the guards. A prisoner who stepped over it was shot immediately. Disease-ridden and malnourished, the prisoners who survived came out looking like the victims of the Nazi concentration camps in World War II. It was easily one of the most shameful chapters in the history of the so-called Civil War.
“He was never the same after that,” Samuel said. “He was a broken man, half crippled and nearly mad. He lived out the remainder of his days in my great-grandfather’s home. He eventually told the story to my grandfather, who passed it down to my father, who in turn told the story to me.”
“Didn’t anyone ever search for the treasure?” Angel asked.
“Not as far as I know. Everyone believed Samuel owned something that he loved enough to call it a treasure, but they doubted it was anything of value. Besides, he had only a vague idea of where he had hidden it.”
“The proverbial needle in a haystack,” Bones said.
“But maybe not so impossible to find nowadays. We’ve got historical records to search through, topographical maps, and satellite imagery. It’s possible.” Maddock turned to Samuel. “Do you know any specifics about the place he hid the treasure? Landmarks? Nearby towns?”
“A few,” Samuel said. “My grandfather wrote the story down.” He turned to Miriam. “Would you please fetch me my Bible?”
Bones’ mother hurried away and returned moments later with a battered old Bible. Its worn cover, cracked spine, and dog-eared pages said it had seen its share of use. Samuel took it from her with care, opened it, and thumbed through its yellowing pages until he found a single sheet of paper. He turned the Bible around so Bones and Maddock could see.
Maddock leaned in for a better look. Faded writing in a tight, neat hand filled the page. It recounted the story of the skirmish, Esau’s escape, and his discovery of the cave. The details of the cave’s location were few, but there were enough to give Maddock hope that, with help, they could find it. The final line caught his attention.
Blood is the key.
“Blood is the key. Any idea what that means?”
Samuel shook his head. “I can’t say for certain, but since it is the story of a family treasure, I assume Esau was speaking of the importance of the family bloodline.”
“We’ll just have to figure it out. So,” he said to Bones, “are we going to go for it?”
“That’s sort of what we do, isn’t it? But I don’t want to leave Grandfather alone, not with those men still out there.”
“He won’t be alone.” Crazy Charlie spoke for the first time. “I’ll take him to my house and have my security men on guard twenty-four/seven.” As the wealthiest man in the community, and a person who didn’t mind skating around the gray areas of the law, he had a myriad of resources at his disposal.
“And he’ll have me.” Angel reached out and took her grandfather’s hand. “I hope they come back. I’d love a shot at those assclowns.” Her lovely face was suddenly filled with the dark ferocity usually reserved for her opponents in the cage.
“Easy there,” Maddock said. “We’ll just have to hope it doesn’t come to that.” He sat up straight. “It’s settled, then. I say we send a copy of this to Jimmy and see what he can come up with.” Jimmy Letson was an old friend and an accomplished hacker who had helped them on many treasure hunts in the past. If anyone could piece these clues together and come up with something useful, it was him.
Bones stood, cracked his knuckles, and smiled.
“Let’s do it.”
Chapter 5
“This looks like the place.” Bones pointed at the weathered sign. Despite the faded letters, he could make out the words National Park Service, Black Break, Georgia. Jimmy’s research had provided quick results. He’d entered all the details from the document and matched them up to survivor accounts of a modest-sized Civil War skirmish just south of Lookout Mountain. It didn’t appear on any map, nor in any history book, but it existed nonetheless.
He guided the car up the cracked asphalt drive and parked in front of a shabby-looking office building. The brown paint was peeling off in patches the size of swim fins and seedling pines peeked over the edge of the gutter that ran along the front of the single-story building.
“Not too impressed, I have to say.” Maddock shook his head as he took in the sight. “Definitely not ship-shape.”
“It's not an episode of Cribs, and it sure as hell isn’t the Navy,” Bones said. “We just need directions to the battlefield.” He cut the engine and pocketed the keys.
“What did you do that for? Springsteen’s on.”
“That’s exactly why I did it. See you in a minute.”
He bypassed the sagging stairs and stepped directly up onto the covered porch. A solitary rocking chair sat by the screen door. A discarded newspaper lay alongside it underneath a rusted JFG coffee can that had obviously been put to use as a spittoon at some point in the last century. Bones wrinkled his nose and the dried, brown gunk stuck to the inside of the can, and drew the door open. The hinges, much in need of oil, announced his arrival before he could step inside.
A wrinkled woman stood behind the counter, watching The Price is Right on a tiny color television. She wore a crisp tan uniform, with a tag that named her Betty Tull. She initially spared him only a glance as he entered, then snapped her head around and gaped up at him. “My goodness.”
“I know,” Bones said with a grin. “I'm the tallest Indian you've ever seen.” A six-foot-five Cherokee was not a common sight in any neck of the woods.
“You've heard that before, I reckon?” She kept staring at him, not the least bit embarrassed by her reaction of a moment before.