Barkerville Gold (14 page)

“Don't trust him!” Katie warned. “He wants the gold for himself. Him and his son.”

“Daniel is here too?” Ms. Evans asked, surprised.

“Of course not!” Bill shouted. He stood close behind Ms. Evans, breathing more normally now. “Have you seen him? You'd recognize Daniel—you've known him since he was a boy.”

“Well, you know, it has been a long time since Danny and Scott used to play at the farmhouse together.”

“Don't you think it's a huge coincidence that Bill shows up in Barkerville just when you're here?” Katie asked. “Here's what I think, Ms. Evans. I think your son, Scott, told his friend Daniel what you were planning to do. Daniel told his father and they decided to follow you and take the gold for themselves!”

They all heard it at once, the sound of a muffled sneeze followed by the rustle of tree branches behind them. Prospector Man emerged from the forest, blowing his nose on a tissue. “Darned allergies,” he muttered. “The sooner I get away from these stupid trees the better.”

“Danny?” Ms. Evans ran over. She reached up and pulled at his beard, which slipped below his chin. “I did notice you around Barkerville, but only because I thought your beard looked the same as mine. And of course it is! I bought them for you and Scott, remember? When you were boys.” She frowned. “Danny, why are you here?”

Daniel avoided her eyes. “See—the thing is—we hate to see that gold wasted when it really should go to a worthy cause.” He grinned at his father. “Like us!”

It hit Rusty that Daniel couldn't know about the curse, because if he did, he would help Ms. Evans, not get in her way. “Tell him about Eng Chung,” he said. “Tell him how Three Finger Evans died the day before his forty-second birthday, and your husband did too!”

Ms. Evans sighed. “They aren't the only ones. I learned, from old papers in my attic, that James Evans, Three Finger's son, died in 1901. He was test-driving one of the first cars ever seen around Cornwall when he veered off the road into a ravine—the day before his forty-second birthday.

“James's son, Alan, was only an infant then, but he grew up to be my husband's father. Alan Evans was an air force pilot during World War II. He was old for a fighter pilot, I suspect, and may have lied about his age. He was shot down in 1941—the day before his forty-second birthday.”

She glanced from Daniel to Bill. “You may recall that my husband, Ted, met a similar fate when he was crop-dusting our fields and crashed into a drainage ditch? Which means, including Three Finger, that's four first-born sons.” She looked Daniel in the eye. “And as you know, Scott's forty-second birthday is next week.”

“Now, Joyce,” Bill chuckled, “if you ask me, it's crazy to give away a fortune like this just because you have some absurd idea in your head.”

“Crazy or not, how can I take a chance with Scott's life?” Ms. Evans asked quietly.

Bill's face turned suddenly angry. “We're wasting time here! Get that gold and no one will be hurt.”

“All right then,” Ms. Evans pleaded, “let the kids go now!”

“Don't worry about them,” Daniel assured her. “I plan to keep them company until Dad is well on the road to Quesnel.” He pulled a two-way radio from his vest pocket. “Good thing we brought these little gadgets along. Cell phones are useless in these stupid mountains. Ah-ah-ahchoo!” He tucked the radio under his left arm and fumbled for a tissue. “Can't wait to get back to civilization!”

During all this talk, Katie and Sheila eased away from the mine shaft. Ms. Evans walked over to them. “Please, girls, hand me the boxes. I don't want any of you to get hurt.”

Sheila did as she was asked. Ms. Evans turned to Katie, who hesitated, then did the same.

“Thank you for trying to help,” Ms. Evans said sadly. She handed the two boxes to Bill, who put them into his sports bag and slipped the strap over his shoulder.

He placed a heavy hand on the back of her neck. “Shall we go?”

The two were soon swallowed up by the forest. Katie started to follow.

“Stop right there!” Daniel yelled. Shifting the tissue to his left hand, he reached into his pocket and came up with a bright yellow plastic object. It was shaped like a small, short-barreled gun and he pointed it at Katie. “Don't make me use this.” he warned.

“A toy gun?” Katie asked.

A shock of fear ran through Rusty. He knew exactly what it was because his parents kept one just like it in the emergency kit on their boat.

“Flare gun,” Daniel growled, “loaded and ready to fire.”

“He's not kidding,” Rusty said. “One shot from it could set you on fire!”

Halfway between the mine shaft and the edge of the forest, Katie stopped. “So, Daniel, what's your father planning to do with Ms. Evans?”

“Don't worry. Everyone cooperates, no one gets hurt.”

“But how can you do this?” Sheila asked. “Aren't you Scott's friend?”

Daniel's attention shifted to Sheila. “You think Scott believes that ridiculous curse? He figures fishing with Brandon is more important than traipsing across the country on a fool's errand.”

“But what if it's true?” Sheila asked. “What if your best friend dies next week? How will you feel then?”

Daniel growled, blew his nose and tossed the tissue on the ground. He didn't notice Katie take another step toward the forest. “I gottta tie you kids up so I can meet my father on the highway.”

“On your motorcycle?” Rusty asked.

Daniel ignored him and slipped a coiled rope from his shoulder. Katie took one more step away, but this time he noticed. “You! Get back here!” he shouted.

Katie studied Daniel, hesitated between running away and doing as he said.

On the opposite side of Daniel and slightly behind him, Rusty didn't think the man would actually use that flare gun, but who knew?
The lure of gold,
he thought,
it makes people do terrible things
. More than anything, Rusty wanted to turn and run for his life, but he knew he couldn't desert Katie and Sheila. And Ms. Evans still needed their help. It was up to him. He had to do something, now, while Daniel's attention was on Katie and Sheila.

Cautiously, soundlessly, Rusty took one step and then another toward Daniel. Less than two steps away, Rusty knew what he had to do. He had one chance and he must not blow it. So he needed to pay attention and wait until the moment was exactly right.
The best defense is
the element of surprise.

Rusty stopped breathing. Took one more step.

“I'm warning you, girl!” Daniel yelled at Katie.

Rusty was now in the perfect position. He nodded at Katie, who said in a loud voice, “All right, you win.” and moved toward Sheila.

“You do realize this is kidnapping and unlawful confinement?” Sheila asked. “You'll spend a long time in prison when they catch you.”

“Ha! No way we'll get caught. Once we're outta here, you don't have a speck of proof.” He glanced from one to the other of the girls. Then, as if suddenly remembering Rusty, he started to turn.

Now!
Rusty thought. He took a deep breath, clutched his walking stick firmly in both hands, raised it high above his head and slammed it down, as hard and as fast as he could, on Daniel's wrist.

“YEE-OW!” Rusty and Daniel both screamed together.

A sharp pain shot through Rusty's sore hand, so unexpected he almost dropped the stick. He was aware, though, that the flare gun leapt from Daniel's grasp and landed on the loose gravel above the shaft. It skidded toward the opening.

“AIHHH!” Daniel bellowed and charged after it.

The last thing Rusty saw as he ran was the gun disappearing over the edge. An angry scream and a whoosh of falling gravel rang in his ears as he crashed through the forest behind Sheila and Katie. They didn't stop running until they reached the Richfield Trail.

“We'll never catch up to them!” Rusty gasped. “They're way ahead of us!”

“We will,” Katie said. “Bill is a mess! He couldn't run if his life depended on it. They can't have gone far yet.”

“What about Ms. Evans?” Sheila asked. “What do you think he'll do with her?”

“I don't know, but I don't think he'll hurt her so long as she cooperates. And she won't cause any trouble if she thinks we're with Daniel. So we need to catch up to them before Daniel catches up to us.”

“But he fell into the mine shaft.” Rusty shuddered. “How could he follow us?”

“No way he could fall down there.” Sheila said. “It's way too narrow for the size of him. He won't be far behind us!”

17
Outsmarting Outlaws

A
light rain started falling as they reached the bottom of Richfield Trail and could see down Barkerville's main street. A few tourists scuttled back and forth, but there was no sign of Bill and Ms. Evans.

“I can't believe this,” Katie said. “We're way faster than them. Where could they be?”

Katie and Sheila started into town, but Rusty lagged behind. He wondered how Bill expected to walk through the busy town and the Visitors' Center, where the security office was located. For sure Ms. Evans would speak up when she believed her son's life was at stake. Or would she keep quiet to protect the kids?

He hardly noticed the miner's cabin to his right, but stopped abruptly at the start of a narrow trail on the left. Although he had not been on it yet, Rusty knew this was the Barkerville View Trail. Something white fluttered in the breeze, caught in tall grass. A tissue? “Hey!” Rusty called. “Hey, come back!”

In three steps he reached it and snatched it up. Not a tissue.

“What, Rusty?” Katie asked.

“Look! A white handkerchief. Ms. Evans left us a clue.”

Katie studied the dirt path winding up into the trees, “Where does it go?”

“Along the ridge above town, past the Visitors' Center and all the way to the parking lot.”

“Let's go!” Katie said.

They hurried up the trail, which zigzagged around trees and offered glimpses of the streets below. They had not gone far before a loud, wheezy cough filtered back through the woods.

“That's him.” Rusty whispered.

“Now what?” Sheila asked. “How do we stop him?”

“I don't know,” Katie admitted.

“Wait,” Rusty pressed his fingertips to his forehead, “I'm getting an idea.” He quickly outlined his plan, the girls offered suggestions, and they were ready. They ran along the trail until they saw Bill, his hand resting on Ms. Evans' shoulder.

“Bill! Ms. Evans!” Katie cried. “Help! There's been a terrible accident!”

Astonished, Bill swung around. “What are you kids doing here?”

“It's Daniel!” Rusty said breathlessly. “He fell into the mine shaft!”

Bill's face went white. “What? Is he hurt?”

“Well, it
is
a long way down,” Katie said.

“With
huge,
jagged rocks at the bottom,” Sheila added.

Bill slapped his hand against his forehead. “I knew we should never have done this! What was I thinking?”

“He needs help,” Sheila said. “We should get the security guards and call an ambulance.”

“Yes. Yes, you're right. Hurry!” Bill looked totally deflated.

“I told you that gold is cursed,” Ms. Evans said. “Here, hand it over and I'll take care of it while you get help for your son.”

Bill couldn't get rid of it fast enough. He shoved the sports bag at Ms. Evans and took off along the trail.

“The more people who hear about this gold the better,” Ms. Evans said as they followed. “I'm going to call every newspaper, radio and television station I can think of. You kids will be famous.”

Rusty gulped. Sheila looked horrified.

“The thing is,” Katie explained, “we kind of don't want Gram and GJ to know.”

“Oh.” Ms. Evans thought for a minute. “Yes. I understand. They do worry about you, don't they?”

Bill's breathing became more and more labored, but he pushed on just ahead of them. At last the trail began to swing down toward the north end of town. Rusty looked over the roof of Saint Saviour's Church to the street in front of it.
Oh, man!

Limping through the rain was a dirty, disheveled man with a crooked white beard and a hat pulled low over his eyes. At the rate he was going, they would all arrive at the Visitors' Center at the same time! Rusty tapped Katie's shoulder and pointed. Her eyes widened. “Psst!” she whispered, and Sheila glanced back. Occupied with their own concerns, both Bill and Ms. Evans kept walking.

“We've got to stop him,” Katie whispered.

“But how?” Sheila asked.

“Hey, look!” Rusty pointed.

Head down against the rain, a woman darted out of an alley next to a stagecoach unloading passengers. Her full skirt swung back and forth like a bell, and the dark cloud of her hair, wet now, sank around her shoulders. She was on a collision course with Daniel.

As they scrambled down the bank, they formed a plan.

Phyllis stopped short as they approached her.

“Hey!” Rusty called. “Did you see him?”

Phyllis frowned. Her gray eyes bored into Rusty's. “See whom?”

“Three Finger Evans,” Katie whispered. “Look! There he is!”

“He must be returning the gold!” Sheila said.

Phyllis looked. Her jaw dropped. The man wore the clothes of an old prospector. His shirt and vest were coated in dust, quickly turning to mud; his pants were ripped and his boots scuffed and dirty. His crooked beard was streaked with brown as he limped toward them, a rope coiled over his shoulder, his head down, seeing no one.

“Three Finger!” Phyllis shrieked. She ran over, stopped in front of him and gazed up in wonder. “Is it true? Are you real, then?”

Several of the passengers from the stagecoach heard Phyllis and looked over. “Come see!” Rusty called. “This is a brand-new demonstration. Watch what happens!”