“I didn’t say leave me. I said, ‘Go first.’” His eyes never left the tree line. “Scout, come!”
“We go together,” I said as the dog reluctantly backed toward us, still growling at whatever—or whoever lurked among the trees. I helped Caleb to the UTV, the ammunition box tucked awkwardly under my arm.
I helped him into the UTV before skirting around to the passenger side, tossing the ammunition box onto the floor as he started the engine, his gun still in his hand. My heart hammered against my ribs as I scanned the trees for further movement. Scout jumped in beside the box, his attention still fixed on the forest.
The UTV roared to life just as the underbrush at the edge of the clearing parted. I tensed, expecting to see Margret or some unknown threat emerging with weapons drawn.
Instead, a doe stepped cautiously into the open, followed by two more, then several others—an entire herd materializing from the shadows like ghosts. Their ears twitched nervously as they regarded us with liquid brown eyes.
“Oh my God,” I breathed, sagging against the seat.
Caleb lowered his gun, a shaky laugh escaping him. “Well, that’s... not what I expected.”
We exchanged glances, the tension draining from our bodies so suddenly that I felt light-headed. Scout’s barking subsided to curious whines as he watched the deer, his earlier alarm giving way to typical canine interest.
“Just deer,” I said, unable to keep the relief from my voice. “All that panic over some deer.”
“Better safe than sorry,” Caleb replied, holstering his weapon. “But we should still get back. It’ll be dark soon, and I don’t want to be out here when that storm hits.”
I nodded, glancing at the sky, where heavy clouds had gathered, which looked as if it would open up at any moment and dump a foot of snow on us. The temperature was dropping rapidly as the afternoon waned, and the wind had picked up again, whistling through the pines.
Caleb put the UTV in gear, and we started back toward the house, the ammunition box secured between my feet. Despite our deer-induced false alarm, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we’d crossed some invisible line today—that by digging up this box, we’d set something in motion that couldn’t be stopped.
The ride back seemed longer, the shadows stretching across the snow as the sun descended behind the mountains. Caleb drove more carefully now, mindful of his injured leg and the precious cargo we carried. Scout had settled beside my leg, occasionally sniffing at the box as if trying to decode its secrets.
“What do you think is in the journal?” I asked, raising my voice over the engine’s rumble.
“If we’re lucky, maps to the rest of whatever Mr. Wolf was hiding,” Caleb replied, eyes fixed on the path ahead. “Miningoperations back then were often kept secret—especially if they were as valuable as the note suggests.”
“And someone else knows about it,” I added. “Someone who sent you that note.”
“Someone who’s not Margret,” Caleb pointed out. “She seemed genuinely surprised to see us at Jake’s place. If she’d sent the note, she would have expected us.”
I considered this as the farmhouse came into view, windows dark against the gathering dusk. “So, we have at least two parties interested in whatever’s buried on this land. Margret and our mysterious note-writer.”
“And possibly more. The question is, which one is the ‘friend’, and which one wants to make sure we never find the rest of the treasure?”
The shed door was just as we’d left it, but that didn’t stop Caleb from drawing his gun. “I’m going to lock this up and park the UTV at Ella’s. From now on, no more walking to do the chores.”
“Your leg is getting worse. I’ll lock it up.”
“Just stiff from sitting,” he insisted, though the tightness around his eyes told me differently.
“Yeah, well, I’m still doing it,” I said, jumping onto the ground and walking over to the door.
“Well now, you’re just showing off,” he said with a grin.
I laughed. “Should we check on the barn animals?”
He shook his head. “We fed them extra and watered them; they’ll be fine till morning.”
In no time, I was back in the seat sitting beside him, and we were on our way. By the time we reached Ella’s porch, darknesshad fully descended, and the first fat snowflakes were beginning to fall. I fumbled in my pocket for the keys as I handed him the box, then bounded up the wooden steps.
The warmth inside was a blessed relief, but the cold had settled in my bones. “Tea or coffee?” I asked, then filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove to boil.
“Coffee. We should check all the windows and doors,” he said, shrugging off his coat. “Make sure everything’s locked up tight before this storm hits.”
I nodded, already moving toward the back of the house. The windows were all secure, curtains drawn against the gathering night. When I returned to the kitchen, Caleb had managed to stoke the fire in the living room and was sitting at the table, the contents of the ammunition box spread before him.
