TREASURE KILLS (Legends of Tsalagee Book 1) (35 page)

Artie stepped up onto the porch of the cave. He took a quick look into the dark mouth of it, and then reached out to help Galynn up onto the overhang.

“Hand me the light,” Artie said, turning his back to Galynn so she could fish it out of his backpack.

The early afternoon sun had come over the edge of the cliff above them and shone brightly onto the full face of it. The boulders on the porch blocked some of the sunlight, but it still penetrated about three feet into the cave entrance. Artie snapped on the lantern as he stepped into the cave.

“Dang, it sure smells bad in here,” he said to Galynn who still stood a couple of feet behind him.

He moved the lantern’s beam along the wall to his right, then into the cave’s depths. The cave went so far back, the light from the big lantern dimly lit the back wall. Artie swung the light to the wall on his left, starting at the back wall, and moved the beam forward toward him. He turned it to the ceiling and ran the light along it to the back again. Inside the entrance the cave ceiling went to about ten feet, then sloped upward to twenty or more as it widened into a cavern about fifteen feet in diameter. Artie, with Galynn right behind him, stepped deeper into the cave.

“Holy cow,” Artie said in amazement. He continued swinging the light around “Who ever knew this place existed?” His voice echoed though the volume of the cave.

“Somebody must’ve,” Galynn answered. “Otherwise, they wouldn’t have painted that giant petroglyph on the cliff outside.”

“Look at this,” Artie said. He’d shined the lantern light into a little alcove that branched off to the right ten feet past the entrance. A small gathering of artifacts stood along the wall at the back. As Artie played the light across them, they saw a rake, a pitchfork, a shovel, a birdhouse, a hunting rifle, a baseball bat, a pistol, a plastic tackle box, a double-bladed axe, a large bell-shaped terra cotta jar, and a two-foot tall, white bearded yard gnome wearing a red pointed hat. The light from the lantern sparkled on the glossy paint that covered the figure. The little gnome smiled benignly back at them.

“What the heck is all this stuff?” Artie said.

“I guess somebody
has
been here,” said Galynn.

Artie shifted the lantern light to the gnome again. “Do you suppose that’s Sunny’s missing elf?” he asked.

“Gnome,” Galynn corrected. “And look, her jar, too, I bet.”

Artie walked closer to the items and looked in amongst them, moving some of the things around. “Ah, I think this is what we’re looking for,” he said. He bent down and picked up a rusty old box that had been pushed back into a corner. “I’ll bet Ed Reed’s treasure map is in this box.” He handed Galynn the lantern so he could use both hands to open the encrusted box.

When the lid popped off, they saw a piece of paper inside, yellowed with age, tied with twine to a rock. Artie took out the rock and untied the twine. He had to be careful not to let the brittle paper crumble in his hands. On it, written in a neat script, he read the words:

You won’t find no treyshure here. You better leve while you can. Ned S.

Artie started laughing and shaking his head.

“What does it mean?” Galynn asked.

“It means Buck and his granddaddy, old Ned Starr, pulled a fast one on us. Ned must’ve known about this all along, and he either got the treasure for himself, or he replaced the alleged map with this note. I’m guessing he probably destroyed the map so no one else would find the treasure’s location. It’s either still out there somewhere, or Ned found it and took it.”

* * *

When Soc released the low hanging branch of the hickory tree, it whipped back and knocked Hayward’s camo cap off.

“Hey!” Hayward yelped. He bent to retrieve his cap. “You forget I’m back here?”

“Nope,” Soc replied. He forged on ahead through the dense woods. “Maybe you shouldn’t follow so close,” he said.

“You sure you know how to find this place?” Hayward asked. He sounded a little winded; his voice strained with exertion.

Soc didn’t answer. He stepped over a lichen covered boulder jutting from the leaf buried ground, and grabbed the trunk of a hickory sapling as he started down an incline. After another fifty yards of descending through the brush and dense woods, he stopped. Beyond him, through another ten yards of trees and brush, a thirty-yard wide horseshoe of indigo water gurgled and swirled past them. Ahead of that, on the other side of the wide stream of water, then in full view through the bare and partially leaf-covered limbs of oak, hickory, and sycamore trees, a broad bluish-gray bluff soared one hundred feet above the river.

Hayward came wheezing and panting up to where Soc had stopped. “Well, I’ll be. I guess you did remember.” He looked around some more, peering up and down the river. “I’ve lived around here all my life, but I don’t recall this place.” Hayward looked up at the cliff face, scanning it. “I still don’t see no cave,” he said.

“You won’t from here. Look for the Hill Man drawing.”

Hayward squinted and looked some more. “Don’t see that, neither.”

Soc extended his arm and pointed. “Stand behind me, and follow my point,” he said.

Hayward complied. “Nope, still don’t... wait a sec... yeah, now I see it. It’s bigger than I thought it’d be.”

“The cave entrance is just to the right of its left hand,” Soc said.

“Still don’t see that,” Hayward said.

“Couple of big boulders sticking out. See those?”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s right behind those.”

“How do you know those guys are going to show up?”

“Don’t,” Soc said. “Just hoping we’d get lucky.”

“Maybe they’ve already come and gone,” Hayward said.

“Could be. We’ll give it a couple hours. See if they show up.”

“But I still don’t see how we’re going to catch ’em. Seems to me we should be over there on top of that bluff to do that.”

“No, we’re right where we need to be.”

“Well, now what?” Hayward asked.

“We wait,” Soc Answered.

Hayward sat on the sloping ground with his back against a sycamore. He’d just started to doze when he heard Soc say quietly, “Bingo.” Hayward opened his eyes and looked up. He could see two figures at the top of the bluff walking back and forth looking down as if searching.

“They’re looking for the ledge,” Soc said. “If they’re smart enough to find it, we’ll wait ’til they follow it down to the cave.”

“And then do what?” Hayward asked as he watched.

Soc only laughed softly in reply.

The two did find the path and the big one started down it; the little one followed reluctantly a couple of minutes later. When they reached the boulders and disappeared behind them, Soc stood, cupped his hands on either side of his mouth with his fingertips meeting at the bridge of his nose, and let out a slow, mournful sound twice. “Whooooo-ump. Whooooooo-ump,” he bellowed.

The call echoed through the hills and woods. After Soc’s initial uttering all the bird noises in the forest stopped. Even the chitter of squirrels ceased. Only the soft gurgling of the river and the swish of the light wind through the autumn colored trees could be heard. After a fifteen second wait, Soc repeated the sounding, and then waited.

From an indeterminate distance, Soc and Hayward heard a return call, only in a deeper bass and ending with an inflection like a question. Soc cupped his hands again and answered. Then he turned to look at an amazed and somewhat apprehensive looking Hayward, and nodded with a satisfied smile.

* * *

“I ain’t going down that,” Threebuck said. He stood with his arms wrapped tightly around the six-inch trunk of a maple tree looking out over the precipice of the cliff edge. Randy had already started down the ledge. Visible to Threebuck only from the waist up, he looked back at him.

“Now what’s your problem?” Randy asked impatiently.

“Afraid of heights,” Threebuck said, still securing himself tightly to the tree and looking a little pale.

“I thought it was water you was afraid of,” Randy said.

“There’s that, too,” said Threebuck.

Randy shook his head. “You ain’t nothing but a tree-hugging sissy. Did that kick in the nuts have that much effect on you? C-mon, be a man.”

Threebuck changed expressions, but he didn’t loosen his grip on the tree.

“Awright,” Randy said with a sigh. “But if you don’t come with me, I get to keep everything I find down there.” He turned to continue on down the ledge.

Threebuck gave Randy’s words ten full seconds of careful thought. “Hang on,” he said. His voice cracked, and he didn’t say it with much enthusiasm. He turned loose of the tree and crawled on his hands and knees down the sloping edge of the cliff top until he got to where the ledge started. He stood to begin inching down, allowing no daylight to pass between his front and the cliff face.

Near the boulders that marked the cave entrance, Randy turned to Threebuck and gestured for him to be quiet. “Someone’s in there,” he whispered, pointing to the cave entrance.

They mounted onto the porch and stepped through the maw of the cave opening. Two people, a man and a woman, their backs to Randy and Threebuck, were off to one side near the back of the cave. They were searching through some stuff back there, talking quietly.

“Appears to me you two are in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Randy said loud and clear. The woman let out a startled yelp and jumped a foot. The man jumped, too; spinning around to throw the bright lantern beam onto them.

Artie immediately recognized the two men in the beam of the lantern as the two who had run by him the previous night in the pasture—the killers of his Uncle Buck. He pushed Galynn behind him protectively, and said, “If you’ve come looking for treasure it ain’t here.”

“Is that right,” Randy said. “Then maybe you can tell us where it is. There’s supposed to be a map in here. I’m thinking you probably already found that.”

“All we found was this,” Artie said. He tossed Randy the rusty metal box.

Randy turned the box over looking at it, and then opened the lid. He took out the old note, and read it. Threebuck looked over Randy’s shoulder, also reading.

“I’m supposed to believe this note?” Randy said. “Maybe you took the map and put this note in here in case anyone else came along, like us. Only you didn’t figure we’d show up same time as you.”

“There’s no map,” Artie said. “That’s all we found.”

Red Randy, looming over Artie, calmly put the note back in the box, and closed the lid. Then he reached out and grabbed Artie by the shirtfront slapping him across the face with the metal box. Artie fell backward and sideways into a heap.

“Gimme that map, white boy, or I’m going to throw you and your bitch head first out this cave. She goes first,” Red Randy said. Threebuck giggled hysterically and danced back and forth.

“You leave him alone, you big jerk!” Galynn said. She charged Red Randy and started slugging him in the face and chest. Randy slapped her with the palm of his left hand and shoved her away. Her back hit the wall hard and she slid butt-first to the floor, the breath knocked out of her.

Artie, still a little stunned, reached behind him and grabbed the baseball bat leaning against the wall. He flipped it to get a hold of the handle end, then swung it from his supine position. He wanted to hit the big one in the knees, and then get up and pound them both, but the barrel of the bat connected first with the back of the littler one’s left knee. The blow caused the guy to holler in pain, and buckle to the ground, but the big one turned and kicked Artie in the ribs. Then he did it again.

“Okay, then,” Randy said standing over the gasping Artie. “We’ll go ahead and get rid of your woman.” He walked over to where Galynn still sat straddle-legged, her back against the cave wall trying to get her breath. He grabbed her by the hair and one of her arms; and, despite her kicking and fighting, started dragging her toward the bright oval of the cave entrance.

“Wait!” Artie gasped. “I’ll tell you where the map is. Just let her go.”

Randy, still holding Galynn by the hair, turned to look at Artie.

“Let her go first,” Artie said.

Randy thought a minute, then complied, but not before shoving Galynn forcefully to the side with his foot. Galynn crawled to a dark corner of the cave and curled up against the wall, still struggling for breath.

“It’s in that big jar at the back of the cave,” Artie said.

Randy went over and picked up the lantern Artie had dropped. He scanned the cave walls until the beam came to rest on the four-foot earthen jar. He walked over to it and removed the lid.

Threebuck still sat on the floor of the cave holding his knee, swearing and moaning. Artie crawled back toward the collection of things against the wall, searching in the dim light for the pistol he had seen.

“What the hell is this?” Randy asked as he shone the lantern into the jar. Seething anger rumbled in his voice. He reached down and stuck his forefinger into the substance in the jar, and raised it up under his nose.

“Hooey!” he said, and shuddered.

A roar arose in the cave like the simultaneous snarl of an angry lion and the shriek of a livid chimpanzee. The rock walls reverberated with the sound.

Randy only had time to look up toward the sound and feel his heart stop before a large hairy hand the size of his head grabbed him by the neck, and another encircle his left thigh. He found himself sailing out of the cave into the bright autumn afternoon air, just barely clearing the porch boulders. When gravity overcame his vertical velocity, he had enough time to expel a scream of his own as he tumbled, arms and legs flailing, earthward. He hit, not at the craggy bottom of the bluff, but with an enormous splash in the deep pool of water at that place on the Illinois River once known as Bear Foot Bend.

The creature, after disposing of Red Randy, stood looking about the cave breathing hard, more in anger than from exertion. He spotted three others spread out on the floor in different areas of the cave, but turned to go to the terra cotta jar first, finding it remained safe.

Threebuck quit moaning when he saw the large creature come into the cave, but he continued swearing, more in terror than pain. “Sumbitch! Sumbitch! Sumbitch!” he yelled over and over, but the creature’s enraged sound drowned him out. Threebuck quit yelling that one word as he watched it heave Randy out of the cave.