Black Cat and the Accidental Angel (Black Cat Mysteries Book 3) (26 page)

“Daddy said they must have jumped in the river and pulled it out because Black Cat and Angel were still wet when we came home. The nugget was on the couch.”

“Isn’t that interesting—”

“Well, now, let’s not bore Peter with all that.” John pulled Cindy away and pointed toward the back of the store. “Sweetie. Why don’t you look around for a bit while I finish shopping? Peter’s busy and we mustn’t keep him from his work.” He gave her a gentle nudge toward the back of the store and turned back to Peter. “If you’ll just point me toward the hip boots and the gold pans, please.”

“Right over here, John. By the way, I’d like to get my backpack, if you don’t mind. I was meaning to contact you about it this weekend.”

“Sure. You’ve still got my card?”

Peter nodded.

“I could drop it by in a couple days, next time we’re in town.”

“That’s a thought. I don’t have transportation. Here’s the gold panning equipment. Everything you need should be right here. I’ll just let you look around. If you have any questions, give me a yell. Those nuts and bolts are waiting.”

John’s gaze followed Peter into the back room. Wish Cindy hadn’t said anything. Though I can’t imagine what difference it makes. Who’s he going to tell?

Chapter Twenty-Seven

T
he aroma of barbecued Emu steaks hung in a tantalizing cloud, drifting across the front porch where Black Cat lounged in a spot of sunshine. He lifted his head and sniffed.

“How disgusting! They’re not eating one of the baby chicks, are they?” Angel shuddered and nodded toward the barbecue pit. John’s friend, Barney and his wife, Millie, sat nearby with John at the patio table.

Black Cat shrugged. “Barney bought it at a Specialty Store and brought it from town. They wanted to know what they taste like. From what I understand, humans raise Emus for their meat. John sells the chicks to other farmers, but some of them sell the meat to stores that specialize in exotic food, like Emu and buffalo. Barbecued Emu is supposed to be very tasty.”

“Where, pray tell, did you learn so much about Emus?” Angel flicked her tail, shaking a fly off her back.

“I heard John talking on the phone the night he borrowed money from Barney. They were discussing why Emu’s were a good investment.”

“I still don’t understand how
persons
can raise them and then eat their pets.” Angel tipped her head and glared at John. “How can he sleep at night?”

“I guess it’s because
humans
have inferior brains. It’s not something cats would do. I mean, can you imagine? Raising mice for the sole purpose of eating them?
Yuck!
”

“Or selling their itty bitty hides to make Lilliputian mouse fur coats?” Her whiskers twitched.

“Let’s get at it, Barney. That gold won’t pan itself!” John picked up his gold pan, hip boots and little cloth sack with tie strings. He hadn’t been so excited since he was in the sixth grade, just let out of school for the summer. He shoved the last bite of chocolate brownie in his mouth, stood and strode down the path with his hand on Barney’s shoulder.
Is this really happening? My gold. Right here in my river!

Millie and Cindy finished packing up the lunch and arrived at the stream a short time later with a bag full of sodas, snacks and hot coffee, and carrying two lawn chairs. “Set your chair here, honey. If we’re lucky, maybe one of them will fall in the river.” Millie giggled.

“You’re just jealous ’cause you don’t have hip boots.” John lifted one rubber-covered leg part way out of the water. “You know you’re dying to get in here and look for gold. Admit it.” He dipped his pan into the water and gathered up a bit of sand from the bottom. He swished the water around and with each swish, a bit more sand and water spilled over the side.

“Hey!” Barney yelled. “I think I see some color.” After a few tries, he got the hang of the process and several pans later, a bit of gold dust or a tiny nugget sparkled in the bottom of his pan.

Wouldn’t you know, Barney would find the first gold?

John looked out across the vineyard into the hills beyond. “I feel like I’ve gone back in time—a hundred years ago—like a miner who stepped into a stream and hoped to come out a millionaire. Not that I expect to become a millionaire—”

“Not that many came out any richer than when they went in.” Barney dipped his pan back into the water.

Millie pulled the thermos bottle from her goody-bag. “Thousands of fortune hunters came to California when they heard the word
gold
. Some of the women got rich off the miners and opened saloons, and restaurants, and…and…things.” Millie’s cheeks pinked up. She leaned back and sipped her soda. “Cindy, do you know how Nevada City got started?”

Cindy shook her head.

“When the gold ran out, most of the miners drifted away, but many saw the beauty of the land, planted crops and sent for their wives and children. They built churches and schools and before you know it, Nevada City was here to stay.” Millie swept her hand out across the vineyard. “And, other towns too, all over the Sierra Mountains.”

“Now, don’t forget that, Cindy. You might study California’s history next year.” John laid his gold pan on the bank and wiped his arm across his forehead.

From time to time, Barney would whoop and climb out of the stream to show Millie a small nugget he’d found. His little sack of gold began to fill. “John should have enough to make his back payments pretty soon.”

“You’ll have to keep some, too.” John picked a tiny nugget out of his pan and dropped it into his sack. Thank God for true friends like Barney and Millie. One of the few couples who’d stuck around and actually supported him, emotionally and financially, after Carolyn left.

“
Nah.
” Barney hefted his gold pan. “I’m just here for the fun of it. You keep all of it, John. You’ll need it to get through the winter, until you can harvest your grapes.” Barney shot Millie a grin.

She nodded.

“That’s awfully nice of you. But, if you find a pretty little nugget, you keep it and make a necklace for Millie. I want you to.”

“Alright. If you insist. Hey, Millie, what do you think?”

“I’d rather have two little ones for earrings, babe!” Millie laughed.

“Can you make me a necklace, too, Daddy?” Cindy bounced out of her chair and walked to the edge of the stream.

My little girl is growing up. I should have thought of it myself.
“I can, sweetheart. I’ve seen pretty little bottles with gold dust in them. That would be just right for you.” He waded toward the bank. “How about some of that coffee, Millie.”

Millie screwed the cap off the thermos. “I’ll pour you a cup.”

John followed Barney out of the water, drying his hands on the tail of his shirt. They stood on the riverbank, sipping coffee from plastic mugs and taking turns bragging about their little bags of gold.

Meow!

John turned as Black Cat meandered through the brush. He paced back and forth, and then ran toward the house, turned and hurried back a few steps.

Meow!

“I’ve seen him do this before.” John set his cup on the ground. “He wants me to follow him. Something’s up.” A tug of anxiety crunched through John’s chest. What could be wrong, now, just when things were starting to go right? Could someone be after the Emus again? His heart did a two-step. “Cindy, stay with Millie. I’ll run back to the house and see what’s going on.”

Not stopping to pull off his waders, he slogged behind Black Cat, back through the vineyard. Just past the Emu enclosure, where the house came into view, he stopped short. “What the heck? Who are all those people?”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

W
ho are you?” John hurried toward the house. “What’s going on here?

A number of men with clipboards surrounded a yellow television crew van sitting in the middle of the driveway. A woman applied make-up to a man seated in a folding chair. Several others scurried across the lawn stringing cables and carrying cameras and lighting. A refreshment table complete with soft drinks and coffeepot was set up near the front porch. No wonder Black Cat was upset. Who were these people? What right did they have…?

The man in the folding chair stood as the make-up lady gave his face a final pat with the powder puff. He pulled the paper bib from his collar, tossed it on the ground and strode across the driveway, a Cheshire-cat grin lighting up his
Max Factor Strawberry Frost
cheeks.

Must be the ringmaster of this circus.

“Hi. I’m Chet Andrews.” He stretched out his hand. “We’re from KTLZ news. Hope you don’t mind all the confusion. We got a tip about your cats finding gold in your creek. Thought we’d do a human-interest story for the evening news. You wouldn’t mind giving us an interview, right?” He grabbed and pumped John’s hand.

John’s jaw tightened. His stomach wrenched.
Television trucks? TV show. I’m not so sure about this.
He yanked his hand from Chet’s grip. “I don’t know.” He shifted from one foot to the other, his gaze moving across the yard from the refreshment table by the front porch to the make-up girl, now waiting patiently, powder puff in hand. Did he really want his gold strike to be the lead story on the six o’clock news? How about being interviewed wearing baggie rubber britches that stretched from his feet to his mid-chest. Not that the rubber pants were the most disturbing part of this scenario. Announcing his gold strike on television might put the thought in some crazed gold seekers’ heads to come and help themselves.

“I’m not so sure I want… Wait a minute.” John put up his hand. “Who told you about the gold in the first place?”

“Well,
er
…
um
… I guess it was the guy at the hardware store. He called us. Said your little girl told him about the gold. He got your name and address from your check.
Heh
…
heh
. Is it a problem? We don’t mean any harm. Just thought it was a great human interest story. You know, the way the cats found the gold nugget—”

“I can’t have my name and address broadcast all over the country.” John’s cheeks warmed. He pulled at his shirt collar, grating against his neck.

“Oh, right. I get it.” Chet glanced over toward the man holding the camera. “We could just tell how the cats found the gold. Our listeners would be interested in that angle. Maybe we could just give your first name, no address, and show the cats…that sort of thing? What do you think?”

John turned and gazed back toward the vineyard where Barney, Millie and Cindy were trudging up the path, carrying the folding chairs.
Where had Barney put the sacks of gold? Out of sight, I hope.
As Barney passed the Emu enclosure, the birds rushed to the fence, greeting the walkers.
Yark! Yark!

What had possessed Peter to give John’s name and address to the TV station? Peter had no right, blabbing his personal business. In fact, there was real potential for harm if the information fell into the wrong hands. Just having the television crew know the location was risky, but that ship had sailed. It pretty much shot down his theory about Peter being an…well, a
whatever.
If that were true, he would never do anything that might harm John’s family.

What next? Would he have to put up a barbed-wire fence? Maybe get a pit bull to scare off gold seekers? Black Cat and Angel wouldn’t like that. On the other hand, it
was
an interesting story. Maybe they
could
just talk about the cats. He sighed. “I guess it’s okay if you keep my name and address out of it.”

“How ’bout we show the folks the Emus later on. We could—”

“No!”

“No?” Chet stepped back and raised an eyebrow. He glanced nervously back over his shoulder.

“How many Emu ranches do you think are near Nevada City? Anyone could just look me up in the phone book. That’s entirely too much identifying information. I can’t sit up nights with a shotgun warding off gold hunters.”
Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.