Alvarado Gold (7 page)

Chapter Eight

I awakened the next morning to Mollie’s gentle nudge. She sat quietly by the bed either wanting to go out or have her breakfast dish filled. “Mollie, let me sleep.” Then, remembering the phone message, I rolled over to look at the clock, eight a.m. “What time is it in Houston?”
Why was that the first thought to cross my mind?
Talking to a dog had its advantages. They didn’t answer back or give an opinion. If Mollie thought like a human, she probably would think I’d lost my mind.

I slid my feet to the floor and stumbled into the kitchen, started coffee and took Mollie outside. Sitting on my matchbook-sized patio, I tried to mentally organize my day.
First, I’ll do the unpacking, then I’ll go through the boxes.
But the stupid, little voice in my head kept interrupting.
Call him
.

Going back inside, I dragged my suitcase into the laundry room.
I’ll just wash from here. No use in unpacking it to stuff it into the laundry basket.

I went into the kitchen for a cup of coffee and decided my next move would be to tackle the boxes stacked in the dining room. I slit the tape and moved a stack of papers to the table. I spotted my grandparents’ old Bible and withdrew it from the box. It had been wrapped in acid-free paper from a local art store in Houston. I’d planned to box it up and put it away but decided to place it on one of the end tables in the living room. Fingering the worn leather on the edge of the cover started me thinking about my relationship with God. How long had it been since I’d darkened a church’s door? It wasn’t as though I didn’t believe; organized religion just wasn’t part of my routine any more. It had been once, though, before Dad died and everything started to fall apart. I sighed, set the Bible down and returned to the table.

I sat there nearly an hour going over newspaper articles, old letters, and documents, but nothing provided information about our gold finding expedition. I was slowly progressing through the pictures when I found two snapshots of churches. One marked the Old Barnesville Church and the other, the New Church. These could be of interest to Mr. Wright. Maybe Mr. Darrow had told him something about us. I should at least hear him out. Then the phone rang. Maybe it was the BLM guy.
Why do I care?

“Hello?”

“Hey, Ad. It’s Eric.”

“Yeah. Hi.”
Do I sound disappointed?

“You didn’t call,” he said. “When did you get in?”

“Yesterday. I meant to call you this morning.”
Sure I did.

“Anything happen after I left?” I could hear Eric tapping at his keyboard. I knew he wasn’t paying attention.

“Yeah. We worked our fannies off. You’re going to get sixteen grand for
our
efforts.” I felt the old sibling irritation rising in my veins.

“Addie, you know I’m involved here and don’t have time for that stuff.”

“You’ll have time to take your part of the money though, won’t you?”

“Anything else?” he changed the subject.

“There was a private investigator who had a run-in with Mel and Donnie threatened me. Nothing too special.”

Eric stopped tapping. “Threatened you about what?”

“The gold.” I knew that would get his attention.

“What gold?”

I unwound the story as detailed as I could. He had a few questions and then I asked, “Do you want to go with us?” That sent him off on another one of his outbursts of how his job kept him busy.

I cut him off. “I’ll be in touch.”
I’d let him get to me again.

I went back to my papers. I slid my hand back into the stack and recoiled with a paper cut. A small, yellowed note floated from the top of the stack to the floor. The old paper crumbled as I opened it.
Great, it is written in Spanish
. Even though I wished I’d paid attention to my classes in high school, one word stood out on the page I didn’t need a Spanish class to interpret. The fourth word in on the first line. Oro–gold.

I picked out a few other words, numbers of some sort but needed to find someone who would translate for me. I also wanted to call Jack, my old boss at Docurestore. First, I wanted to know why he’d called and second to see if he could date the letter and the piece of paper with the coordinates on it. I knew C-14 carbon dating wouldn’t be good because the intensity of radioactivity had hardly begun to decline in something this “new” but maybe Jack would have another suggestion.

I glanced at the clock, noon, two in Houston. “Should I call Mr. Wright? No, I’ll call Jack first.” Mollie looked up at me with an expectant gaze but she lay back down on her pillow and closed her eyes.

I dialed Jack, and after the sixth ring, I took the phone away from my ear, ready to hang up, when he answered. “Peterson,” came the same old, gruff voice.

“Hey, Jack. It’s Addie. How’ve you been?” I tried to sound nonchalant but I was secretly dying to see what he wanted.

“Not so good, Addie,” he confessed. “I need some help from you.”

Now he had my interest. “Me? I thought I was always pretty dispensable.”

“You remember the big job I bid on for the museum in Cairo? Well, we got it. Then Judy quit and Sandy left to get married. I’m the only one here with enough experience to work on the restoration project.” He sounded tired and overwhelmed. No wonder he’d called.

“What are you proposing, Jack? Do you want me to come back?” Fishing and he knew it. Did I really want my old job back or did I want to switch gears now and do something else?

“If you could at least come back for the summer it would be great. The museum project should be wrapped up by then. I’ll leave it up to you, Addie. I’d love to have you back here and could really use your help but I won’t twist your arm.” He almost sounded pitiful. I liked Jack. He’d always been good to me, but this smelled of one of his usual foul-ups. He’d bid a job way too low, then we’d get it and be swamped. He’d jump in and help us dig our way out of the mess but we’d usually lose a good employee or two in the process.

“Give me a couple of days, Jack. I’ll come back for the summer. There is somewhere I have to go in early September but just for a few days. We can renegotiate then.” Maybe I sounded too eager but I could hear him sigh in relief. “I have some old letters I want you to look at, too. I’m pretty sure when they were written but was wondering if you could help me date them to be sure.”

“Not a problem.” Jack’s voice sounded unsure. It almost seemed he didn’t want to tell me something. “Oh, and Addie, some things have happened while you’ve been gone.”

“What happened, Jack?”

“There was a shake up here at work but I want to tell you that part face to face,” Jack hedged. “And, Addie, Eric called. He wanted to know if he could talk me into hiring you back.”

“Oh, for the love of Mike! Is that why you called me, Jack? If that’s the case then, I won’t come back.”

“No, Addie, I really do need you. Please. Cut Eric some slack. He only cares about you.”

“I know he went to college with your son and thinks he got me the job at Docurestore, but he didn’t even have any idea I’d applied until I had it all sown up.” Eric had managed to hit yet another nerve.

“Someone named Gary Wright also called a few of times looking for you. Who’s he?” Jack seemed pensive. I hated it when he decided he wanted to act like my father. “Catherine told me he was really digging for information to find you.”

“He’s someone I met at the Bureau of Land Management when we were looking for some old land grants. He probably has more news and had enough clues to track me down. I am surprised though that he called work.” This was proving to be an interesting call all the way around. “Okay, Jack. I have a lot to do but I’ll see you at nine on Thursday morning. Clear me off a space I can call mine for the next couple of months.”

I clicked the receiver down in the cradle, furious with Eric. He always tried to fix things for me.
I am twenty-eight years old! Why can’t he just let me be a grown up all by myself?
I wasn’t in the mood to think about him. I let my temper cool off a bit, but not much, before the phone rang. I recognized the Houston number, Gary Wright. Why was he putting so much effort into locating me?

"Ms. Brown, this is Gary Wright. Remember? From the BLM office? You had my papers."

I could feel the breath go out of my lungs. “How did you manage to track me down?”

“You signed the registry, Addie.” He tirelessly babbled on, “And David, remember I know David.”

“Touché. And it’s Ms. Brown.” The sharpness in my voice lingered from my anger with Eric. "You have a lot of nerve, Mr. Wright. You went to a great deal of trouble to find me and, as a researcher, I applaud that but getting my home phone number is a bit much. What makes you think I even want to talk to you?"

I heard him laugh, “I couldn’t forget someone like you.”

"I don't need any of your slick lines, either. I've heard them all." A pick-up line, not what I expected from him but the idea had possibilities.

"You have a great opinion of yourself, don't you, Ms. Brown?"

"Ouch. I had that one coming." I grimaced and felt the heat rise in cheeks. "Okay. What was so important you needed to locate me?"

"I wanted to talk with you.” Mr. Wright sounded earnest. “I have something very important to tell you."

"And that would be?" I was running out of patience with this guy. What did he really want? Was it me? I seriously doubted it. He seemed interested in far more than he let on.

"Whoa! I didn't mean to get off on the wrong foot with you. I just had more information on the cave near the cemetery. I know the territory as I’m working on a project there for my mother’s church, which is located in Johnson County.” He paused. “You had my list of churches. I thought you'd be curious, that's all. You and your sister can’t go out there alone. Barnesville is in a rough, undeveloped area. I’d like to offer to go with you.”

“Well, first of all she’s my cousin, not my sister. And no, you won’t go with us. I have too many people telling me what they’re going to do for me right now. I don’t need to add you to my list. I tried to make it clear to you before; you’re not coming along. Good-bye Mr. Wright. I need to go.” I cut him off before he could protest.

As I walked to the kitchen and yanked open the refrigerator, my heart pounded in my chest. I ripped open the canned soda I had in my hand with so much force the tab broke off. Why was I so upset with this guy?

I had to decide who I was really mad at here. Eric, that was a given. I was always upset with him. To be honest, I was a little upset with myself. I’d let myself think for an instant this guy might have possibilities. I could see him as he looked the last time I saw him. His red tie, without a crease or wrinkle, knotted at his throat, and the blue shirt, sweet smelling with laundry starch. Even on my best days I didn’t look that polished. Was I mad at this BLM guy? No, not really. Someone working on a church project for his mother couldn’t be all bad. He was aggressive in what he was after, not much different from how I was.

I liked the way his southern drawl drifted in and out of his voice. I could listen to him. I had the time. All I had in my life right now was dirty laundry and old letters. I’d have to swallow my pride, though, if I called him back.

I had too much on my plate to start a relationship and there was one thing gnawing at my very soul that I could not share with anyone. If I was to give my heart to someone, I’d have to tell my secret.

I sat there for a long time wondering what he’d look like in hiking shorts and what a deep tan would do to the color of those violet eyes. Mollie stirred me out of my daydreams when she dropped her leash in my lap.

Chapter Nine

I shot my arm out of the covers at the first sound of the “do wa ditty” music that blasted from the oldies station on my radio. Six a.m., too early to get up.
Why did I agree to this?
I needed a job, that’s why. I took everything out of the tortoiseshell box except the map to Barnesville and the coordinates. I gently added the letter I’d found on Tuesday.

Getting ready, at least, was easy. Jack let us wear blue jeans but his dress code guidelines stated we wear our company polo shirts. They were an ugly shade of maroon with white collars which made us look like we should be serving burgers and fries. All we needed was some little logo embroidered over the pockets. I usually took an extra blouse with me in case I wanted to go out for lunch but I didn’t have time that morning.

“Don’t eat my socks while I’m gone,” I told Mollie. She looked at me like she understood. I knew she didn’t but I told her the same thing every time I left her alone. Since she’d joined me as a puppy, I’d probably lost fifty pairs. I finally decided to buy the same brand, all white, so I could match up the spares. I gave Mollie a pair of my old socks when she was a puppy so she’d bond to me, except she bonded with my socks instead.

The drive to work along the freeway was out smooth since there wasn’t much traffic at six-thirty in the morning. Nine hours later and in the middle of the afternoon, I’d be headed back this way. I guess going to work at the crack of dawn had its advantages.

“Hey, Catherine. It’s good to see you.” I nodded to Jack’s secretary as I walked into Docurestore. She smiled and looked like she’d swallowed a canary. “Did Jack find a place for me to work?”