Paranormal Mystery Boxset Books 1-3: Legends of Treasure

by Lois D. Brown

  But one in a million was still a chance. And, to be honest, she was feeling rather lucky.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Now 86 years old and in poor health, Fenn receives hundreds of emails a day from people looking for an advantage in finding the chest — mostly older men. He’s been sent death threats and bribes; on occasion, strangers appear at his front gate unannounced, to dig around his property for information. “I’ve had to dial 911 three times,” he told People last year.

  “FENN’S TREASURE: OUR 5-DAY QUEST FOR $2 MILLION HIDDEN IN THE ROCKIES” BY ZACHARY CROCKETT, UPDATED ON JUNE 30, 2017, HTTPS://WWW.VOX.COM/A/FENN-TREASURE-HUNT-MAP

  Resting on a larger boulder next to a dry river bed, Maria caught her breath while Clyde studied her out of the corner of his eye. It was enough to make her skin crawl, but she acted like she didn’t notice. Her Glock, pressing next to her back, and her knife, saddled next to her calf muscle, gave her the reassurance she wasn’t alone.

  Of course, the rifle Clyde carried with him out in the open also reminded Maria he wasn’t alone either.

  The conversation between the two of them had been minimal. Clyde had kept his personal information to a minimum, except for his love of hunting. On that subject he could apparently talk for hours.

  At four years-old he’d caught his first prey—crawdads at the lake. He’d used a shoelace with a piece of fresh chicken meat tied to one end. When he’d pulled his line up from the water and seen a cluster of crawdads all fighting for the bait—he’d known what he wanted to do the rest of his life.

  Four years later he shot his first deer. Three years later his first elk. At that point, the man’s conquests blended together.

  “Well, I’m ready to start back up.” Her GPS showed they were under an hour away from the river’s fork.

  “One second.” Clyde reached down and picked an odd-shaped blossom off a three-foot tall bush he was sitting next to. Maria had noticed several similar bushes all growing near the dry river bed they’d been following.

  “Listen, Maria. It would be helpful if I knew what I was looking for. Are there any specific geographic features, a marking, indentation, that sort of thing?” Clyde lifted the blossom to his nose and his face soured. “That’s Datura, all right,” he mumbled.

  “No,” answered Maria. “There is nothing you can help me look for. I just need to see the river fork and then I’ll know more how to direct you. What’s Datura by the way?” she asked, hoping to change the topic.

  “A flower—a poisonous one. It’s a little hobby of mine. Deadly plants. As a kid I used to have a garden of poisonous herbs until my mom made me dig it up. Anyhow, this one is in the nightshade family. Some call it the Devil’s snare or trumpet.”

  Maria’s heart leapt into her chest. Another reference to the devil? That was encouraging.

  “Enough of it can kill you, or at least give you a ride you might not come back from. The Native Americans used its seeds in some of their ceremonies—their spiritual voodoo crap. But you know about all that stuff, don’t you?”

  A moment passed.

  “About what stuff?” Maria kept her voice steady even though her lungs wanted to jump out of her chest. Clyde had made his move. Whether on purpose or an accident she didn’t know. But he had laid down the gauntlet. He had tied a piece of chicken to a shoelace and was waiting to see if she would bite. He knew about her connection to the reservoir where she had called up the Native American skeletons. It was the incident the FBI believed triggered Justin’s kidnapping.

  “I’m not stupid. You know all about that Indian voodoo, don’t you?”

  “Are you talking about the voodoo religion in Africa? That has nothing to do with Native Americans.” Maria was stalling. She hadn’t decided whether or not to take the bait.

  “No, I’m talking about all that Native American spiritualistic crap.”

  Maria made a split-second decision. She was still too far from Devil’s Coup for a direct confrontation. It wasn’t the right time. “Nope. I don’t know much about Native Americans. Just what I learned in school. And I don’t know a thing about poisonous plants. What kinds did you grow in your garden?”

  Clyde stared at Maria a minute and then stood up, his thick frame looming over her. He was going to be a challenge to take down, but Maria was ready. She fingered the small can of Mace spray concealed as a flashlight that hung down from her water bottle. It was CIA issued and could spray much further and harder than the commercial stuff.

  “Never mind,” said Clyde. “Let’s keep going.”

  Over the next thirty minutes, Clyde and Maria gained sixteen hundred feet in elevation before dropping back down. Maria slowed her breathing and kept herself hydrated. Even Clyde seemed to be getting somewhat winded. With no path to follow, it was a matter of bush whacking and utilizing existing deer trails.

  Ever since Clyde had mentioned Native Americans there had been a shift in the wind. It no longer came from one direction. Instead, the higher they climbed the more the wind swirled in circles as if mini tornados were playing a game of tag.

  As they began their descent into the canyon, the sound of the river filled Maria’s ears. They were close to the fork … and to Devil’s Coup. Clyde no longer allowed her to walk behind him. Instead, they walked side by side. Out in front, something crossed the deer trail they were following. Maria wanted to look up but instead focused on Clyde’s every move. The minute he went for his rifle, she went for her Glock.

  Maria continued onward, not letting her gaze drift until she physically felt something brush into her side opposite to where Clyde was. Startled, Maria turned to see a misty figure beside her.

  A ghost.

  Her spectral companion was a woman wearing a long deerskin dress with wide sleeves. The moccasins on the woman’s feet made no noise as she walked over brush and rock. She smiled at Maria and bowed politely.

  If shouting hooray wouldn’t have set Clyde off, Maria would have done it. This beautiful woman had to be the Shoshone spirit of someone who had passed on. The Sight had pulled through! The graveyard must be close by. It was time to settle matters with Clyde.

  Maria tumbled forward onto the ground on purpose, sprawling into a patch of shrubbery and scraping her arms on the branches. “Sorry,” she mumbled, and reached out her hand.

  Clyde instinctively tried to grab it in an effort to pull her back up on her feet. The second he did so, his face registered his mistake. The motion of reaching down caused the strap attached to the rifle he carried over his shoulder to slip down. Maria’s hand shot past Clyde’s hand and traveled up his forearm to where the rifle strap now hung. She slipped her hand under the strap and pulled it off his arm. It was over in a matter of seconds.

  Clyde bellowed like a mama bear whose cub had just been taken. “Noooooo!”

  In a second swift motion, Maria flung Clyde’s rifle into the air and down a ledge. It took five or six seconds until the riffle clattered on the canyon floor beneath them.

  Rolling to her side, Maria avoided Clyde’s reach. Before getting up, she swiped at his feet, toppling him like a giant. As he fell, he slammed his arm into Maria’s neck. The force of the blow caused her to gag and struggle for air.

  Get my gun.

  Springing to her feet, Maria reached behind her and pulled out her Glock in one fluid motion.

  “D-d-don’t move a single muscle,” she gasped and pointed the barrel of her gun straight at his heart. “You have a few things to explain.”

  As Maria had suspected, Clyde would tell her nothing. He clamped his mouth shut and stared past her as if she didn’t exist. Bringing him a piece of the Veil treasure would change his mind.

  After securely tying him to a tree, Maria began phase two of her plan, which was to find the Veil treasure using the knowledge of the Shoshone who were buried in Devil’s Coup. First, that meant finding the woman ghost who had disappeared when the fighting began.

  Maria ran through the weeds and the brush, trying to avoid lo
ose rocks. The last thing she needed was a sprained ankle. She didn’t know how much time she had, but she wanted to get to the cave where the bodies were buried as fast as she could. It was still only a million in one chance, but she fought against the odds before and won.

  The trees became thicker and the brush more dense. Maria was forced to slow her pace and scramble on all fours up several hills. Once on level ground, she continued east, following the coordinates her GPS gave her. She was beginning to worry the device wasn’t working when she rounded a bend and the opening to Devil’s Coup suddenly appeared. The entrance was impressive—at least ten feet high. Plenty of space for someone to walk into standing fully upright. Maria retrieved her flashlight and flipped it on in preparation for treasure spelunking.

  An unearthly wail sounded off to her side. She turned and saw the same Shoshone ghost who had accompanied her on the trail with Clyde. The woman now kneeled on the ground with her arms raised above her head. A howl of lament escaped her lips, and she brought her hands down to the dirt, letting them touch the ground, and then she raised them high into the air again. It appeared to be some form of worship or grieving.

  A moment later the figure of the woman slumped to the ground, prostrate and silent. Maria hurried to her and fell on her knees, panting. Time was precious. She needed to extract the information from the woman but somehow do it … gently. That would be a challenge for Maria.

  Trading her flashlight for her cell phone, Maria swiped at the screen and a picture of Steve Veil illuminated.

  “Hello, my name is Maria.”

  The woman made no indication she heard her or understood.

  “My name is Maria. Can you hear me?” Maria studied the side of the woman’s face, noting her natural beauty.

  The woman began to wail again, the pitiful sounds seemed to penetrate the earth below the ghost.

  “Please, I need your help.” Maria’s voice raised. She had to be calm and encouraging, but she also had to hurry. She needed some bargaining power quickly to find out from Clyde where Justin was being hid.

  Several more piercing cries escaped the woman’s lips and then she sat up. Her obsidian-colored eyes encapsulating Maria. “Pehnaho.”

  Oddly enough, Maria understood. The woman had greeted her politely. Things were looking up.

  Maria pushed her phone toward the woman and pointed at the photograph of Stephen Veil displaying on the screen. “Have you seen this man?”

  The woman reached out and poked at the electronic device several times. She then bent down and studied the photograph for what seemed like forever. At last, lifting herself back up, she said, “Haa.”

  Yes.

  Relief flooded Maria’s body. There was hope.

  “Where did you see him? In there?” Maria used her index finger to point toward the opening of the Devil’s Coup cave.

  The Shoshone woman frowned. “Kai.”

  “No?” Maria questioned the woman, worried they had miscommunicated. “Where did you see the man?” Large drops of sweat dripped from Maria’s forehead. It wasn’t just the heat of the day or the fact that she had been running. Every second that passed was a threat to Justin’s life.

  The Shoshone woman turned and motioned for Maria to walk around to an outcropping of rocks at the side of the Devil’s Coup cave. Maria followed the directions. Thirty feet to the east of the original opening was another crevice in the mountain wall. This one was much smaller, only a few feet tall and covered with shrubs. She would not have noticed it if the Shoshone woman had not pointed it out to her. Maria was about to drop onto her belly to scoot inside when the booming roar of a creature she’d never heard before sounded not far behind her.

  Maria spun around. In front of her was an animal that was a cross between what Maria imagined Big Foot to look like and a mythical Greek monster. The beast was on all fours, neck thrust back with bellows exploding from it. When it realized it had Maria’s attention, it reared on its hind legs, proudly displaying its height, which was no less than fifteen feet tall. Its front legs were covered in matted fur that glistened with moisture.

  Was it blood? Maria’s heart sunk. Had the monster already found Clyde?

  The beast’s shoulders were muscled and bulky and furry, like that of a grizzly bear. However, its waist and fur thinned in the middle, revealing a smooth leathery skin rippled with abdominal muscles. Yellowed fangs hung over the creature’s bottom lip several inches. Drool dripped onto the ground. Its eyes were a ruby red that seemed to glow even in the daylight.

  Oddest of all, however, was the fact that Maria could see through the monster. On the inside of its ghastly outer shell was a much smaller silhouette that resembled something much more common. It was the shape of a … child?

  When the inner silhouette waved its arms, the beastly outer figure waved its arms as well. When the inner silhouette jumped and roared, so did the creature. It was if Maria were watching a real-life production of the book, Where the Wild Things Are.

  The Jarbidge monster howled and bared its teeth. Going on instinct, Maria put her hands on her hips and said, “Stop!” The word echoed off the mountain walls, back and forth. The silhouette figure inside the monster stopped moving and the monster went limp.

  “Come here.” Maria held her breath to see what the monster would do.

  Obediently, both the inner and the outer figure sauntered toward Maria. As the dual creature got closer, the grisly outer manifestation began to fade away and the darkened inside figure lightened. Now Maria could clearly see the facial features of a Shoshone child—a young girl around the same age as Justin.

  The girl had a deep gash in one arm and a missing chunk of flesh in her neck. Both injuries were centuries old. The ghost child, like the shadow man, was haunting the wilderness for a purpose. She had business left undone.

  The child looked at Maria with a questioning plea. “Bii.”

  Mother.

  Maria pointed to herself and shook her head vehemently. “No, I’m not your mother.”

  The child looked at her with an expression that said, “Obviously.”

  Maria reddened. She was still trying to figure out this ghost communication stuff.

  The child repeated herself. “Bii.”

  Now Maria understood. The little girl was looking for her mother. But Maria didn’t have time to help. She was already trying to reunite Justin and Beth. She had to find the Veil treasure and get back to Clyde.

  Maria began to back away, apologetically raising her shoulders and looking sorrowful, but something inside her made her stop.

  There was a stronger force than her at work. Even if Maria was in a hurry, it was no longer her choice. She stepped closer to the child and reached out for her hand. “I will help you find your mother.”

  When their fingers touched it was just like it had been with the shadow man. Maria’s mind exploded with color. The Jarbidge wilderness was vibrant with green spring growth. A young child and her mother gathered berries into a hand-woven basket. The mother was radiant—a younger version of the Shoshone ghost Maria had spoken to just minutes before.

  There was a rustle in the bush behind the pair and the girl’s mother indicated for the young girl to continue collecting berries while she investigated. Time sped forward. Now the young girl wandered aimlessly in the evening dusk. Basket in hand. No mother at her side.

  She was lost. Alone. Afraid.

  A growl stopped the child cold. Yellow beady eyes were only yards away. Death sprung at her. Sharp claws sunk into her arm as the beast’s jaws closed around her neck.

  The child screamed her last word spoken alive. “Bii!”

  Maria knew what she had to do.

  The Shoshone woman had returned to her grieving posture several yards away, kneeling on the ground with hands high in the air. Her wails soft and tragic.

  Keeping the girl’s hand in her own, Maria led the child to the Shoshone woman. Neither could see the other. Once they were within touching distance, Maria stooped down.<
br />
  “Here is your daughter.”

  The Shoshone woman looked at her, eyes quizzical and concerned. Maria held out her hand for the woman to give it to her, which she did. Gently, Maria put the child’s hand into the mother’s and clasped their fingers together.

  The patch of earth the three of them occupied began to rumble. Heat spread from their fingertips into Maria’s being. Vibrations filled her body until she could no longer keep a hold of the woman and had to let go.

  A forgotten smile reawakened on the girl’s face. Her eyes shone.

  Relief. Joy. Peace.

  Oh, how Maria wanted all of those same things for Justin.

  The Shoshone woman burst into tears and enveloped the young girl in her arms. Maria stepped back. The reunion was complete. But Maria’s mission for being in Jarbidge was not. Panic about Justin’s situation filled Maria’s chest again once again. She had to hurry.

  Clyde. She had to make him tell her where the boy was.

  Maria jumped up, but before she was able to take a step forward, a gun blast ricocheted through the air.

  Maria turned to see a man—just as built and just as hairy as Clyde but dressed in different clothing pointing a gun at her.

  “Dillan, don’t let her out of your scope.” A deep voice came from behind Maria. She spun around to see Clyde not far from her. His face was livid with anger. “Put your hands up and don’t move.”

  “Where’d you come from?” asked Maria.

  “Do you really think I’d take you out in the wilderness without a backup? Meet my brother, Dillan. He was following us the whole time.” Clyde smirked at Maria. “And ever since your little stunt—when you tied me up—we’ve been following you. You’re one strange lady. Do you know you talk to yourself … a lot?”

  Both Clyde and Dillan gave hearty laughs.

  Clyde continued, “Yeah, totally loco if you ask me. But we did notice how interested you are in the small cave opening over there.” He pointed to the spot the Shoshone woman had shown her. “As soon as we take care of you we’re going to check it out.”