7 Never Haunt a Historian (30 page)

Harvey stepped forward and took the empty tin. “Very carefully,” he advised, as Archie’s shaking fingers opened the paper. “Don’t break the edges if it’s brittle.”

But the note, which was folded only once down its length, unfolded easily, and within seconds its surface was illuminated by the light of a half-dozen flashlights.

“Number three, number eight,” Archie breathed hoarsely. “That’s all it says.”

“That’s all it has to say!” Allison exclaimed. “That’s the spoke and the X! Spoke number three and X number eight. See?” She held out her copy of the map for Archie, and as he took and studied it, he stepped back a pace from the crowd. Lester stepped back with him to keep a light on the map; the others gave them room.

The cellar went silent.

“Well?” Adith insisted at last. “Where is the danged thing? Let’s go get it!”

Archie ran a hand over his sweating brow. “Can’t do that,” he said dully.

“And why not?” Adith persisted.

Archie looked up. “Hey, McClellan!” he said briskly, his voice all military.

Beside her, Leigh felt Warren start. He had been at her side the whole time, but up to now, hadn’t said a word. Everyone else was looking at each other in confusion, but Archie was staring straight at her husband.

“Um… yes, sir?” Warren said uncertainly.

“You sure you’re not related to Major General George B. McClellan?” Archie asked, a grin playing around his lips.

“Er, not that I know of,” Warren answered.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Archie insisted. “Seeing as how you look just like him.” His smile moved down to Allison. “And seeing as how whatever treasure Private Theodore Carr carried home from Gettysburg, he went and buried in
your
backyard.”

***

Relocating the assembly a second time was no small task. The spot Allison and Archie agreed on as being marked by the X was technically on the Harmon’s property, but it was on the far side of the creek from Leigh’s house, partway up the hill into the woods, surrounded by spindly trees and just shy of another cluster of stones. The lawn chairs were set up again, this time at the nearest clearing on the flat part of the lawn, and stronger, sturdier tools were requisitioned from Leigh’s garage.

When Mathias’ metal detector went bonkers in the most obvious spot within the target zone, both Archie and Harvey gave up all pretense of hiding their enthusiasm. Unfortunately, neither of them was in any shape for hard digging, and Lester—who despite his relatively milder concussion, was still having headaches—was strictly forbidden any exertion whatsoever by his overprotective wife. Ethan and Mathias dug in with enthusiasm, and when they tired were replaced first by their sisters, and then by their mothers. But with eighty some-odd years’ worth of root growth between Theodore’s time and the present, the task went slowly, and only when Warren took a turn with an ax and shovel in tandem did the effort at last turn a corner.

Scotty, who had at first pretended to help by holding whichever tools weren’t otherwise in use, had grown bored quickly. “You still have the puppies at your house Mr. Pratt?” he questioned.

Archie chuckled and threw an amused glance at Leigh. “Oh, I most certainly do. They’re in charge of the house now, you know. I’m lucky I get to sleep on the couch!”

“She didn’t stay in the box?” Leigh questioned. Randall Koslow had helped her fashion a whelping box to lure the mother dog to a more suitable location, and Leigh had succeeded in gradually coaxing her to move the litter out from under Archie’s bed and into the area under the staircase. Although less than ideal, it was as good a spot as any for the dog to serve out her rabies observation sentence, and the one place in the house Leigh thought she might still feel safe after Archie returned home—provided he was willing to let the family stay. To Leigh’s relief, Archie was more than willing… he cooed over the litter like a proud grandpapa.

“No, she didn’t stay in the box,” Archie reported cheerfully. “Her majesty prefers the fine shag carpeting under my bed. Her majesty also prefers I keep myself the heck out of there.”

“Oh, no,” Leigh said with chagrin. “Is she growling at you?”

Archie chuckled. “Not in so many words. Actually, she’s a quite friendly little miss… ate some bacon right out of my hand this morning. I think she and I will get along fine. She can stay where she wants until the pups are older, though it’ll be the devil to keep things clean. The couch is no matter. I’d be sleeping there anyway. It’s easier to get up and down.”

“That’s very generous of you,” Leigh praised.

Archie shrugged. “Can’t very well turn her out, after such a selfless act of heroism on her part, can I? Besides, we have an understanding. I’ve talked to Wiley and he accepts his responsibilities.” He put out a hand and patted the black hound’s head. “I guess we’ll take your dad up on that kindly offer of his.”

Leigh smiled. Dr. Koslow had offered to vaccinate the pups and spay the mother dog when the time came—but only if Archie would also let him neuter Wiley.

“Hey look!” Mathias cried. “Uncle Warren’s hit something!”

Everyone moved immediately to crowd around the edge of the hole.

“It’s metal all right,” Warren said, removing a glove to feel the flat stretch of surface he’d unearthed. “Maybe a tackle box. Or a foot locker.”

“I can dig some more!” Ethan insisted, and Warren stepped back while the boys eagerly resumed the effort.

“So what do you see?” Adith shouted anxiously from the clearing twenty paces below.

“It’s a metal box of some kind!” Leigh reported.

Harvey, who had been determined to make the uphill struggle, chuckled softly. “Haven’t heard so much about hauntings lately, have we?”

Leigh grinned back. Despite Adith’s newfound interest in Dora’s
phasma victus
parties, neither woman had mentioned a word about ghosts, evil spirits, or orbs since Nora’s arrest.

“I hope I didn’t upset anybody with all that,” Archie said apologetically. “I just thought it was all in fun, you know.” He gave a surreptitious nod in the direction of Scotty, who was now scuffing his shoes anxiously at the edge of the hole, knocking some of the dirt back in. “The boy seemed to like it. And I didn’t want him following me around out there when I was working, of course.”

“You wore your blue army coat,” Leigh accused. “You knew he’d think you were a ghost!”

Archie gave a mischievous smirk. “Well, yeah. That was the fun of it.”

Harvey chuckled. “You don’t have to give those men an excuse to wear those coats. Why, Jeb wore his to the farm the day of the sting! And when I asked him why, he shrugged and said that the wool was good in the rain!”

“What’s taking so long?” Pauline carped from downhill. “I could dig faster with my danged dentures!”

“Look!” Lester cried, “You can see the corners of it! It’s bigger than a tackle box… looks more like a trunk!”

At last the boys were able to grab the edges of the box and make it jiggle. After a few more minutes of concerted digging, Warren was able to lift it out.

“He’s got it! He’s got it!” Scotty screamed.

Warren stepped out of the hole and carried the metal box triumphantly down the hill to the waiting crowd.

“Oh, goody, goody, goody!” Adith exclaimed, clapping her hands as Warren set it on the ground in the middle of the group of chairs. Everyone stared at the object with reverence for a moment, despite its unimpressive appearance. The metal trunk was about a foot wide and a foot and a half long. It had a hinged top and a latch with a lock, but since most of the hinges were corroded, the lock appeared to be no obstacle. The surface of the trunk was rusted, but its integrity seemed otherwise intact.

“How on earth could an old man bury such a thing that deep all by himself?” Dora questioned.

“It wasn’t that deep,” Warren responded. “It just got covered over with tree roots.”

“When Theodore buried it,” Harvey explained, “those rocks would have been at the edge of the woods. He picked his spot well—safely above the flood plain, and with good drainage. Otherwise the metal would have rusted even more, after all this time.”

“You think it’s waterproof?” Dora questioned.

Harvey and Archie exchanged a troubled glance. “Not likely,” Archie answered sadly. “Some water’s bound to have leaked in over time. And it would only take a little…”

Harvey shook his head. “No way could a felt slouch hat survive over eighty years underground in a metal box. Theodore didn’t plan for that, you know. He thought his daughter would come to pick it up soon.”

No one said anything for a moment. After a while, everyone looked at Archie.

“Don’t look at me!” he said with mock cheer. “It’s not my property. Whatever it is and whatever’s left of it, it belongs to the Harmons, fair and square.”

Leigh and Warren looked at each other blankly.

“Well,
somebody
open the gol-durned thing!” Adith demanded.

With a mutual shrug, Leigh and Warren tugged at the metal lid until the hinges gave way and the top tipped off to the side. The crowd gave a collective gasp, but all anyone could see was the folds of a wool blanket, faded and partially deteriorated. Leigh reached in tentatively and lifted out the bundle.

“It’s heavy,” she commented. “There’s something hard inside.” Leigh’s hands felt unsteady. Her eyes met Warren’s for a moment, then both of them turned to Allison with a silent question. With an equally silent nod, the girl agreed. Leigh stepped over to Archie and gestured toward an empty chair. “If it’s ours,” she insisted. “We say
you
should open it. Now sit down and take this thing before I drop it.”

With a grin, Archie complied. As everyone gathered close around him, he slowly unwrapped the folds of wool from the hard object within.

“Maybe it’s a skull!” Scotty said brightly.

“Or some jewelry,” Dora suggested.

“My money’s on a gun,” Adith added.

“Well, it ain’t going to be an octopus!” Pauline griped.

“Nope,” Archie replied as he pulled the last of the fabric away. “It’s… a big jar.”

“A jar?” Leigh said, unable to hide her disappointment. “What?”

Archie turned the vessel around in his hands with care, looking at all sides. It was ceramic, six or seven inches in diameter and just under a foot tall. It was sealed with a wire bail top. Archie’s face turned sharply up toward Harvey. “Rubber gasket,” he said breathlessly. “It’s a long shot, but do you think… maybe?”

Harvey’s cheeks flared red. “Open it!” he practically shouted.

Archie’s own hands were trembling as he popped the metal wire off the lid, then slowly removed the lid from the jar and set it down in his lap. He looked into the wide mouth, inserted two fingers, and pulled out a yellowed piece of paper almost entirely covered with handwriting.

If this is a hint for some other place to look,
Leigh thought with chagrin,
so help me…

But before anyone could suggest it, Archie started to read out loud.

“My dearest Leonora,” he read haltingly, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for coming. Your brother’s mind is gone and my own is not as it used to be. You must take this, and you must keep it safe. I did not speak much of the war to you when you were a child. It wasn’t worth speaking of. But now you have to know what you have and what you will hold. When I was a young man I served in the 71st Pennsylvania Infantry, and I was one of the few who left it whole. What I give you comes from what they call Cemetery Ridge at Gettysburg, where we lost nearly one hundred men. I will spare you much of that story, but what you must know is that I was lying on the ground, one dead man already on top of me, when I saw General—”

Archie’s voice broke. He swallowed and started again. “General Armistead fall. He was still alive, but when he fell to the ground his hat and sword fell with him. I wanted the sword but couldn’t reach it. The hat fell almost to my hand. I grabbed it and tucked it beneath me, and when I left that bloody field it left with me.”

Archie stopped and took a ragged breath. Beside him, a flushed and unsteady Harvey leaned heavily on the arm of the chair.

“They gave the sword back.” Archie continued. “Gave it back to the bastards who killed those hundred men—and so many others. This hat must never be returned to them. Never! Such fuss now over that rebel who did nothing but hold it high in the air! This hat is worth something, daughter. Sell it if you can, or keep it yourself, but you must promise me that you will sell it only to another Pennsylvanian, and that those damnable rebels will never worship at its altar again!”

Archie paused, then slowly lowered the letter. “Your loving father, Theodore Edward Carr. Dated May 27th, 1923.”

“Two years before he died,” Harvey said weakly. “And Leonora never came.”

No one spoke. After a moment, Archie looked into the jar, then held it tentatively out toward Harvey. “You do it,” he croaked.

Harvey stretched out a shaky hand and slid his fingers into the jar’s mouth. With a slow, gentle movement, he extracted a misshapen lump of dull gray fabric.

“It’s true,” he said wondrously, his blue eyes dancing. “It’s true, Archie. It’s a hat! A felt slouch hat!”

“So it is,” Archie agreed hoarsely. “It may never look like one again, but—what’s that?”

“The hat pins!” Harvey cried out loud. “It still has his wife’s hat pins in it!”

“So it’s real?” Lester asked.

“Well, I’m no expert, but—” Archie began.

“It’s real,” Harvey said firmly. “It will have to be authenticated, of course, but… the style, the pins, what’s left of the cords, the insignia… I’d stake my life on it!”

“Well, Lord love a duck,” Adith murmured.

Everyone stood still. Held breaths were released. Eyes, both young and old, sparkled with excitement. Faces glowed.

“We shouldn’t be touching it,” Harvey said suddenly, letting the hat fall gently onto Archie’s lap. “We could damage it. We should get it in some kind of protective case immediately.” He looked up at Leigh. “Do you have a cardboard box that would fit it, for now?”

“I’ll get one!” Allison offered, and in a flash she was off the hill up toward the house, with Scotty and the rest of the Pack behind her.