“Unless you want to go to the ranch on an empty stomach, we really need to get going.”
Adam seemed to be counting silently to himself. By the time he got to ten, something else had caught Lance’s wandering attention. He had gone inside to say hello to the crew. Adam was now chanting. ‘Calm. Calm. Calm.’
“Didn’t know you took up yoga, boss.” Scott had an amused look on his face. These two were more fun to watch than Laurel and Hardy.
“Only way I can keep from killing him.” Adam’s words were dry as he looked from his watch to the blueprints to the tub.
“You need to take off?”
Adam nodded slowly. “Again.” He gave a sigh. “Everything’s going smoothly right now. Double-check the measurements of the tub. They aren’t quite what we were told by the manufacturer. The plumber might have to move the drain and the faucet. I don’t know if there’s cell phone reception out where we’re going, but give a call if you need something.”
“Will do. See you tomorrow?”
“Yes, hopefully this won’t take more than the afternoon. Thanks again, Scott.”
With a nod, Scott took the blueprints from Adam and started measuring the tub.
Lance came back out to the front holding a bottle of cold water. Adam wasn’t sure if he got it from the crew cooler or from Mrs. Anderson’s refrigerator. Not going to ask. Not going to ask. He knew the crew wouldn’t mind. Lance had had four large pizzas delivered to them one Friday right before shut-down. They would do anything for him. “Ready?”
Adam looked down at his dusty jeans and sweat-stained T-shirt. Well, they were going to a ranch out in the country. Adam’s work boots were more suited than Lance’s spotless loafers. Lance was dressed as if he was going to a country club social. Adam smiled for the first time since Lance showed up. “Yep, ready. Follow me to my place and we’ll go in your car.” Yes, the elegant little black Mercedes would look really good covered with ranch dust.
Adam didn’t bother changing clothes. He just parked his truck at the apartments and got in Lance’s car. They stopped at a drive-thru for lunch. Thankfully traffic was light as they headed north on the I-5. Lance bit into his hamburger, steering with his left knee.
After he finished his own mouthful, Adam had a question. “So, how’d you get us onto the ranch?”
Lance checked his side mirror and banked into the right lane. “It wasn’t too difficult. Mario answered the phone himself. I told him ‘Walt sent me.’ And before he could hang up on me, I crooned a little ‘Yippi-A, Yippi-I, Yippi-O’ to him. I think I stunned him.”
“Not surprising.” Adam mumbled through a bite of his burger. “I’m guessing that’s part of the campfire song the clue mentioned?”
Lance ignored him. “Mario was silent for a long time. He finally told me he never expected to hear that song after all these years. Then he asked me when we could come out.”
“Wow, it really worked!” Now it was Adam’s turn to be stunned. He thought they were going to have to somehow sneak onto the ranch dodging a hail of bullets and snarling dogs.
“He wants to see the note, of course, since he had watched Walt write it. I think he wants to see it as much for old time’s sake as anything else.”
“So what do we do once we get there?”
Lance shrugged as he swerved back into the fast lane. “He said he’ll tell us. Watch for Highway 14. Then we need the Placerita Canyon exit.”
They were quiet with their own thoughts the rest of the way. They found the entrance to the ranch looked just like it did in the pictures—forbidding. There were more signs posted warning people away. One, as Adam feared, warned of guard dogs.
The dire warnings were a sharp contrast to the warm greeting that awaited them. Lance had the clue in his wallet. Stepping between Mario and Adam, he had opened his wallet so only their host could see it. Mario looked at something Lance slid out of a pocket, nodded once, and then took the diary page in his hands. As he read, a fond smile slowly crept over Mario’s face. He handed the clue back to Lance with a far-away look in his eyes. “Yes, that was from Mr. Walt. Pull forward through the gates, and then follow me in your car, please.” He climbed back into his pickup after he shut the gates behind the Mercedes.
Heading north, they drove on a well-maintained road through a thick stand of trees. These same impenetrable trees lined the entire border of the property shielding the fascinating contents from passers-by. It wouldn’t do for drivers to see a shoot-out in a meadow as they were navigating the winding outer road. The trees also hid the vistas from the guys in the car as they drove, their tires producing a low cloud of dust that dissipated in the breeze. Disappointed they were seeing nothing of the ranch, the two friends were glad when they finally came to an open meadow. There was a huge parking lot, a cavernous barn and a couple of outbuildings. After parking, Lance and Adam climbed into Mario’s pickup and were given a brief but detailed history of the ranch. They caught glimpses of some of the cabins and buildings they had read about as they drove north towards the Lake Region. Their earlier disappointment vanished as they were driven through the main street of the empty Western set. There was no shooting going on, but a crew was expected next week to shoot a commercial. Mario stopped the truck and pointed out the legendary oak tree. Lance was going to open the truck’s door but was stopped by Mario.
“That is not for you,” Mario stated in a soft but clear statement. “It is protected by the Historical Society. I just thought you would like to see it.” He took his foot off the brake and continued to drive past the lake and up a ridge. The little wooden guest house with its small pool was sitting there just like they had seen in the pictures from the website. Mario pulled up near it and stopped. When they looked at him expectantly, not sure of what they were supposed to do, he gave them a little smile. “Yes, this is where you get out.” Going to the back of his truck, he rummaged around and reluctantly handed them a flashlight and a hammer. Next he pulled out a ladder. “This is what I was told to give you.”
“Do you know what we’re supposed to find?”
He shook his head. “No. It is not for me to know. I was entrusted with this much only. It was important to Mr. Walt, and I would do whatever he asked of me.” He sighed and looked out over the pool, his mind elsewhere. “He is very much missed. I will be back in two hours.” Not moving to leave, he stared at the hammer as if he would like to take it back.
Adam thought he understood the reason for Mario’s reluctance to leave them with tools. “I’m a General Contractor. I won’t do any damage.” Adam then indicated Lance with a movement of his chin. Lance was busy wiping dust off of his shoes with the back of his pant legs. “And neither will he.”
Adam was scrutinized with dark eyes. The older man nodded once and got back in his truck. Mario now felt better leaving them at the guest house. Besides, there was work he needed to do. The pristine condition of the grounds required constant care.
Setting the ladder near the entry, Adam and Lance turned to face the rectangular house. They wondered how many people had slept there since Walt’s time. Leaving the door ajar and pulling open the curtains for light, they came to the conclusion it couldn’t have been very many. It didn’t have the feel of a frequently-used house. There was a faint sheen of dust on the few pieces of furniture and the air was stale—a condition that the open door and windows soon alleviated.
Nothing obvious jumped out at Adam and Lance. But, when it came to the clues Walt left, it never did. There were only two rooms—the living room/kitchen in which they were standing and a bedroom with a small attached bathroom. The walls in the living room were paneled in a light oak that matched the kitchen cabinets. The sofa was beige and saggy. There was a small oak coffee table and matching side table with a western-style lamp sitting on it. The bedroom was painted white with a small corner desk and chair, and another chair under the window. A search proved the desk to be empty. There was nothing stuck up under the drawers and no false backs or bottoms. The cabine
ts in the kitchen were full of inexpensive dishes, glassware and cooking pots. The refrigerator was cold but empty. Sofa cushions proved to be just cushions. Moving to the sofa, they slid it away from the wall and carefully tipped it forward. There was no secret panel under the sofa or any tell-tale sign of another clue hidden in the springs and stuffing. Pictures on the walls held no secrets. The bathroom was tiny and empty. Nothing under or behind the double bed. The chest of drawers and the night stand were just as barren as the desk had proved to be. The closet in the bedroom had only a few wire hangers. The bare bulb light fixture was activated by a long string weighted with a lead washer.
Almost out of options, Adam glanced up at the stark light fixture. Next to it was the access panel to the attic. Shining the flashlight on the panel, he saw nothing. But, on one side of the molding around the panel something was scratched into the old wood. He went out to get the ladder and carefully carried it through the little house. Lance, who had still been searching the living room, followed him into the bedroom. Adam only needed to climb two steps to see that the scratching read WED.
Reaching higher, he slid the access panel out of the way. Two more steps and his head was inside the hot, musty attic filled with cobwebs that had been long abandoned. Making a slow circle of the tiny space with the flashlight, it, too, seemed to be completely empty.
Then, as he turned to look the other way, leaning sideways to shine the flashlight behind him, there it was, nailed onto one of the ceiling joists—a dust-covered capsule larger than what they found in the McConahy building. It was closer to the size they had found buried in Marceline, Missouri, about fourteen inches long and six inches in diameter. Other than the dust coating it, the plastic was in perfect condition.
“We have about fifteen minutes before Mario comes back. Do you want to open it here?” Lance seemed inclined to open the capsule, but left the final decision to Adam.
Shaking it gently, there was no clinking noise. It must hold paperwork. “Let me get the ladder out of here.” Adam closed the access panel and folded up the ladder, carefully carrying it outside. Other than some dust falling from the open attic, nothing looked changed or moved.
Lance finally broke the seal on the end cap. His hands were cleaner than Adam’s, so he pulled out the rolled-up papers. He found a sealed envelope and two pieces of paper. The smaller paper looked identical to the one that held their last clue. The larger piece was heavier stock in an off-white color with Disney characters banked around the top edges. The words in bold, flowery script said Grant Deed and was dated 1965. There was an embossed Seal of California at the bottom, banked by signatures. He quickly read through the legalese and handed it to Adam. At Adam’s curious look, he explained with careful enunciation, “Walt left us something.”
Adam looked at the form. Being a renter, he wasn’t familiar with the document. “Is it a share in something like the railroad stock?”
Lance suddenly grinned. “Something like that. He left us this little house. And the pool, I assume,” he added off-handedly.
Adam was stunned. “No fooling? I thought this ranch was all privately owned now.”
Taking back the deed, Lance looked it over again. “Everything except this little piece of dirt. It grants us full access whenever we want, providing we don’t interrupt any filming or make nuisances of ourselves.”
“Wow. That’s probably why this place doesn’t feel like anyone has been here in a while.”
Lance nodded. “It can be assumed nobody knew exactly who owned it since this deed has been hidden all these years.”
Still dazed, Adam wandered out the front door and perched on the edge of the ladder. He looked around the ridge and the trees off to the west. He could tell by their curving line there was a river cutting through them. He could hear nothing. Absolute silence. Oh, he knew it would be different if a crew was filming something. The Western Town was just below the ridge. But, unless there was a chance airplane flying overhead, it was perfectly silent. It felt odd to him after living in bustling Orange County all his life.
Lance came to join him. Both men sat in silence while they thought about the gift Walt had given them. In the stillness of the ranch, they could hear the pickup long before it got to them. Adam looked at the roadway where the truck would soon appear. “Do we tell Mario about this?”
Lance thought about it, listening to the truck getting closer. “Well, he welcomed us with almost open arms. He knew this was something Walt set up and was entrusted with this secret almost forty years ago. He’s devoted to the ranch and preserving it. I would vote yes.”
Nodding slowly, Adam agreed with him. Before they could discuss it any further, Mario pulled into sight and parked. There was a look of curiosity in his eyes but he wasn’t going to question them. It wasn’t his way. Adam picked up the ladder and carried it to the bed of the pickup. By the time he came back for the hammer and flashlight and had pulled the door of the guest house shut, Lance was showing the deed to their host.
Silent, Mario looked it over carefully. Handing it back to Lance, he held out his hand and gave them a warm smile. “Welcome to the Ranch. We will be very glad to have you. I only ask that you give us a little advance notice when you would like to come.”
“Just like that?” Adam stopped at the tailgate, the hammer and flashlight still in his hands, astonished by both the treasure and the reception of it.
“Yes.” Mario gave a simple, unconcerned shrug. “Just like that.” He paused a few moments while he thought about how to explain it. “Mr. Walt did a wonderful thing in setting up this ranch. At the time, there were many ranches like this. Many of the big studios had their own. But, Mr. Walt, he knew his would last. The others, they folded. Now they come here. We have done much toward keeping the land just so. If you have been entrusted with this little house, then we know you will take good care of it. I think you know the film crews have the right of way out here. But, if you would like to ride, there are horses in the Bottom Region.”
“Who should know about this?” Wondering about the legalities, Adam pointed at the deed in Lance’s hands.
“It is done now. I will tell the ones who need to know. You have only to come.”
They piled back into the cab of the truck and Mario drove them back to Lance’s car. At the clearing, they shook hands with Mario and promised to see him again soon. As the entry gates clanged shut behind them, they gave a final wave. In the excitement of the day, Adam had forgotten all about something: He would have enjoyed the thick coat of dust that covered the entire Mercedes.
As they drove back toward the freeway, Adam suddenly remembered something. “The next clue! I forgot all about it with the Deed and all. Do you have it?”
The sealed envelope and Grant Deed had been placed on the back seat. Lance pulled the clue out of his shirt pocket before entering the onramp for the Antelope Valley Freeway and handed it to Adam. “What does it say? I didn’t read it.”
Adam looked over the familiar handwriting with a growing sense of excitement, not just from the treasures they were finding, either. They were visiting the places important to Walt and learning more about his history. This was fascinating to him. He knew Lance was excited, too, but Lance wasn’t as much of an enthusiast as himself. Had Lance looked over, he would have noticed a melancholy shadow sweep across Adam’s face. Oh, wouldn’t Be... No, he wasn’t going to think of her. Yes, she would have loved all this, but he blew it. Maybe someday he would run into her and tell.…
“Are you going to read it or just stare dreamily out the window?” Lance’s amused voice broke through Adam’s reflection. I cannot believe he’s thinking about her again! Wonder if he’ll ever figure it out. Probably not, Lance thought while grinning at his friend.
Adam snapped back to the present. Good thing Lance isn’t a mind reader. I’d never hear the end of this. “Yeah, sorry,” Adam mumbled, focusing his eyes on the clue.
“This is the house the little princess built. Check out my desk. Hand the env
elope to Manny, Mo, or Jack if you can’t find it.”
“We have to go to Pep Boys?” Adam had to read it again.
“Well, unless Walt was secretly into auto repair, I doubt it. Who’s the little princess?” Lance had to slow down for the rush hour traffic as they neared the turnoff for the I-5 Freeway. The freeway was bumper to bumper with people heading home from work. Lance looked over and smiled at a blonde in a red Mustang convertible. Catching his gaze, she moved her sunglasses down off her eyes to get a better look. She looked sorry when the traffic started moving again and Lance pulled ahead out of sight.
Adam shrugged. “I’m not sure. Is he talking about animation or a nickname for someone? A house for a princess would be a castle, right?”
“Does he mean Sleeping Beauty’s castle in Disneyland?”
“How would a desk figure in there? Walt didn’t have an office inside the castle.... At least none that I know of,” Adam amended. “Why would he need one if he had his apartment over the Fire House?”
Getting no answer, he glanced over at Lance who was looking at his side mirror. The blonde was getting closer as his lane of traffic slowed again. “You’re going to miss the I-5 turnoff if you don’t get in the far right lane.”
Lance gave a sigh and one last look in his side mirror. Signaling, he managed to swerve over two lanes without even a horn blasting him, grumbling the entire time. “Happy now?”
Not knowing what he meant, Adam was confused. “Did I miss something?”
Lance watched the red Mustang continue south on the Antelope Freeway as he slowly inched towards the I-5. “No. I did,” as a manicured hand gave him a final wave before disappearing into a sea of taillights.
“Care to explain? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Nope. Just wistful yearnings.”
Adam gave a sudden laugh. “Oh, now I get it! Blonde, brunette or redhead?”
Sometimes Dead Men DO Tell Tales! Page 12
