River Rocks: A West Virginia Adventure Novel

by Steve Kittner

  Tiny sat back in his chair and lifted his eyebrows, processing all this information.

  “Well, one thing is for sure, guys; what you told me certainly fills in a lot of blank spaces of what I have been told. And they all fit, too!”

  At that point everyone looked over at forgotten Brad. He was the deer in the headlights! With eyes as big as saucers, he was in a blank stare and had been for quite a few minutes. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “Are you guys serious about this?” he asked slowly. “There is a pile of gold somewhere around here that was stolen and buried in our town?” He simplified it.

  Eddie responded, “Well, it looks like it could be true, Brad. We’re still a long way from knowing where it is, but we have a key to the bank, if we can find the bank.”

  “Problem is there are two other keys out there in the hands of people who know what they are. They know what they have in their hands,” Tiny said.

  “Well, here’s what I know, You guys covered a lot of it already. Some of the same things that you said were told to me by my family through the years. I knew about the red can and the Franklin family and Mr. Otis, why your name rang a bell, and the flood and all that. I had heard all that, but what comes first hand from our family are the meetings between Art Otis and Clyde Franklin.”

  The lightning had subsided but the dark clouds continued to hang over and rain fell steadily, pelting the forest around them and staining the river to a slightly muddy color.

  Tiny spoke slowly. “Ya see, my great-grand pappy was Washington L. Brooks, bartender at the Crossroads Tavern, and he served drinks to Franklin and to Otis on those very nights when they planned the greatest train robbery in West Virginia and maybe the whole eastern U.S.”

  “Wow,” Josh gasped.

  “And he heard every word of it because those two drank and drank and got louder and louder. The other guys in the bar didn’t pay any attention to them, but Washington Brooks heard it all.”

  Eddie asked, “He heard it all and didn’t report it to anybody before it happened?”

  “Eddie, here’s the reality of it. Washington was a former slave who escaped the south on the Underground Railroad forty years prior to that time and found a sweet place to call home and to work and to raise his family. In those days a black man didn’t make waves, didn’t make trouble, not when he had all that refuge for his family going for him. At that time he was fifty-two years old and everything was going well for him. So if he told a story like that and nobody believed him, the rumor would get out and his life would be over very soon. There were still a lot of haters around in those days. Black men didn’t go around telling stories on white men.”

  “I can see why he kept his mouth shut,” Burl said.

  “Yeah, he had no choice, really.” Tiny turned his palms up and shrugged. “But here’s the thing.” Tiny smiled a little because he knew he had some information that they had not heard that could be a vital clue. “There was another man in the tavern on those nights. A stone mason, and not just a mason but the foreman of the crew of masons who were hired by the railroad to build the stone trestles all down the train line on the Elk River. Now, do you remember the name of the guy who was killed about three months after the train robbery, who is related to your librarian?”

  Eddie thought and said, “Well it was Mansfield, Edmond Mansfield.”

  Tiny leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees while sitting in the chair. “Edmond Mansfield, the great grandfather of your librarian, was the foreman on that project. He built the trestle that you guys fish in front of nearly every day of your lives up at the sand bar.”

  “No way!” Eddie exclaimed.

  “Yep, and that’s not all. Clyde Franklin, on those nights, would wait until Art Otis had left, and then he would have little talks with Edmond Mansfield. Little chats over in the corner away from the bar and away from the other Masons.” He smiled, happy to deliver new revelations.

  “Did Washington Brooks hear those conversations too?” Josh asked.

  “No, no, unfortunately he could not hear the words between those two guys. But just the nature of their behavior was enough to tell him that they were up to no good. Ya’ know, body language. This is what I’ve been told.”

  Josh asked, “Well I wonder what happened to Mansfield? Who shot him three months after the robbery and why? And I think the article said no gun or evidence was found at that scene either.”

  Burl was thinking out loud, “My first suspect is going to be Clyde Franklin. Just a gut feeling but if he used Art Otis and killed him then maybe he used Mansfield too. And then killed him.”

  “Man! No wonder the librarian Mansfield grabbed our paper when he saw The Southern Jewel on it. His family knows all about it, too!” Eddie said.

  “You can bet they do. And you know when a good dog smells blood he hunts harder. You can bet that if he knows some new clues have surfaced, that he will be digging. And so will Collins and Billingsworth.”

  Tiny paused in thought for a moment.

  “It’s going to be a race to the gold!” Josh exclaimed.

  “Burl, you have a lot of information about the legend. Has Collins ever approached you about it, knowing the family history?” Tiny asked.

  “Oh yes, a few times. Many years ago he caught me down at the general store several times at fur selling time and swaggered over and tried to make conversation that would eventually lead to the legend. I always told him I had nothing for him and I didn’t know much about it. Of course I knew he wasn’t just making conversation, he was digging. Gold digging. And so, eventually he just quit talking to me and so did a lot of other folks.”

  “Well that would explain the rumors that he started about you then. I’d bet my house that he started telling the lies to keep other people away from you so you wouldn’t tell them either!” Tiny said.

  “Makes sense. He’s corrupt, I know it. And it’s been years. People haven’t talked to me for years!”

  “So, going back to Franklin and Mansfield, was it just one night or was it more nights that they had their talks?” Eddie asked Tiny.

  “Oh no, it was a few conversations that they had over a couple week’s time is what I was told. Franklin was buying him drinks.” Tiny grinned.

  “Butterin’ that turkey to cook, ya think?” Burl said.

  “You could be right about that,” Tiny said, looking straight at him and nodding his head.

  “But what in the world could Clyde Franklin need from Edmond Mansfield, a stone foreman?” Josh wondered aloud.

  “Can I see that yellow paper, Josh?” Tiny asked. Tiny remembered something and wanted to confirm it.

  Josh handed him the paper and Tiny unfolded it and looked at what they had deciphered. Tiny studied it for a moment and his head once again nodded up and down in discovery.

  “It’s right here on paper, Josh. The fifth line down is the reason that Clyde Franklin needed Edmond Mansfield,” Tiny revealed.

  Everyone including Brad gathered around the paper and counted down to the fifth line.

  Tiny said, “He needed a place to hide the gold. He needed… a vault!”

  Sand is a vault

  Josh asked, “Wow. You think Edmond Mansfield built a vault somewhere in the hills to hide the gold? Gosh, makes perfect sense though” he said, looking down and thinking while chewing on his thumbnail. “I have seen documentaries about the Masons building many, many ceremonial vaults in the Appalachian Mountains. There are hundreds of them. So he would sure know how to do it.”

  “Sure would. Franklin had a need and he had an opportunity to fulfill that need. It’s a perfect situation for him and right at his fingertips. Both of the men he needed were right there in the same tavern,” Tiny said.

  Burl said, “And after the vault was complete and the gold placed in it and things settled down a bit, Franklin went back and shot Mansfield.”

  Josh put in, “And that would eliminate the only other person who knew the truth about the r
obbery and where the gold was hidden, and once again only one man would know where it was stored!”

  “I’d be willing to bet that Franklin promised Mansfield partnership in the gold to get him to do it. I mean, a stone foreman made decent money, but with the promise of that kind of cash, he don’t ever have to cut another rock in his life!” Tiny figured.

  “It all fits. It’s a real good case against Franklin.”

  “But the thing is, where? Where in Mountain County could he have built a vault?” Eddie asked.

  Tiny responded, “I think it’s close. Think about it, can you imagine how hard it would be to move 162 pounds of gold bars around as fast as you can without anybody seein’ you do it? I mean, a horse or mule could do it. He could have packed it into saddlebags and walked it far, far away but it makes more sense to me to think that he hid it close so he could be real fast in and out. He would have had to hide it on the same night that they stole it. That vault had to be ready that night!”

  Tiny looked back over at Brad and smiled as if it were kind of funny how overwhelming all this must be for him all at one time. Brad was still kind of in a daze but soaking up every word of it.

  Tiny said,” Josh, hand me that paper again.”

  Josh had it in his hand and passed it over to Tiny Brooks.

  Tiny reread it and then went into thought. Burl Otis was beginning to notice what a river-wise man that Tiny Brooks was and he liked that. So did Josh and Eddie.

  “The very first time you read this out loud to us, Josh, something caught my ear. And it’s here at the bottom, the very last line:

  In an island bank

  “Now when I first heard that and was processing all that information, my first thought about that line was that this stolen treasure is in the same place that almost all stolen money is, or at least finds its way to at some point to be: The Caribbean.”

  “WHAT???” they collectively exclaimed.

  Tiny chuckled and then explained, “Well, I happen to know that for centuries pirated gold and stolen money has been taken to Caribbean islands to “clean it up.” Islands, and most commonly The Cayman Islands, are notorious for doing that even still today. They are nearby and easy to get to.”

  “Oh my gosh!” Josh said in disgust, thinking that the adventure had just gotten too big for their means. “That could not have been an option for Clyde Franklin.”

  “Hold on now guys, Don’t throw me off the porch just yet!” He smiled and laughed. The words Island and Bank are what took me in that direction just for a moment. It was just my first thought. But now think about this instead.” Tiny leaned forward on his elbows again. “Don’t we have our own little island just up the river? And isn’t that the island that still has what’s left of the old Cross Roads Tavern? Didn’t Clyde Franklin have easy and frequent access to that island?” He paused and looked around at the boys. “I think we have two lines of this riddle figured out already!” He smiled a little.

  Burl said, “Well you’re right about that, Tiny. But the part that doesn’t make sense is where it says; In an Island Bank. There was never a bank on that island. A hotel and casino yes, but never a bank.”

  Burl knew his history.

  Tiny leaned back in his chair again. The skies had begun to clear and the rain had stopped. The air was fresh and clean after a good West Virginia summer downpour. He drew a deep breath in through his nose and now smiled big while crossing his arms. Once again he knew something that everyone else didn’t.

  He began, “See, back around the turn of the century that old house up there on the island was a resort type place. It billed itself as “Celebrating the Island Life” but really what it was, was a casino with a dozen or so hotel rooms on top of it. It was a place to come and gamble and then spend the night. Men from Charleston, and some women too, but mostly men, would travel up the river either on a boat or on the train and spend the weekend here. They would gamble and have a good time and then go home on Sundays. The place had a kitchen that put out good food and the rooms were clean so it was a popular thing to do!”

  Once again Tiny leaned forward on his elbows.

  “Here’s the point I’m gettin’ to, and I’ve heard this from the old-timers. The common thing back in the day when these guys would leave home to come up here was to say ’I’m going to the bank this weekend.’ It was like a socialite inside joke.”

  “Hmmm,” Eddie said

  “Yeah, so “Going to the bank” really meant going to the Island Casino at the Crossroads Tavern right here in Red Creek, West Virginia. And ya know what?” Tiny lowered to a whisper, ”The author of that deer-hide document would have known that. Clyde Franklin…would have known that!”

  The rain had completely stopped and the sun shone through between the trees and beamed a ray of light straight onto Josh’s face. It helped everyone to see how big he was smiling! He was thinking what everyone else was thinking; the treasure could be right there on their little island in Red Creek, West Virginia!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The doors had long been closed and locked that evening and only a single light was on downstairs, back in the corner. Elton Mansfield was scrolling through microfiche and doing internet searches until late in the evening and wishing so much that he could get that grant from the state to modernize his library. He had a yellow piece of legal pad paper beside his keyboard and a notebook for jotting down his ideas. His helper had some notes and old photos in a folder that was almost as old as the helper himself.

  The two men had been friends for many years. Elton had provided the man with some local information back in the 70s to assist in a search that the other man was conducting, or trying to conduct, and, as it turned out, the two men had a common interest. It was this gentleman who had discovered the note in Clyde Franklin’s Bible after he purchased it at an old bookstore in Charleston.

  John Hopes was quite elderly now but still had a very sharp mind. He was a small man, maybe one hundred and forty pounds, fully gray but still quite nimble. He had been a very clever investigative reporter back in his time, divulging many of the atrocities of the West Virginia coal mines and the harsh conditions that the workers had to endure. He could remember everything from his days at the newspaper, including the day he bought that used Bible from the late 1800s in a used book store.

  “Elton, do you suppose this word in line five could be vault?”

  Mansfield studied the word and agreed excitedly that it was the most probable. Just a couple more words to go and they too would have the document completely filled in. Then it would be a matter of decoding its meaning.

  Elton Mansfield had good information regarding the Southern Jewel. He didn’t have the family information that Burl Otis had or that Tiny Brooks had, other than one little item up his sleeve, but he had access to many resources of information at his fingertips and what he didn’t have, maybe another library in the county did have. So gathering information was no problem for Elton Mansfield. If he wanted to find something out, he would.

  His great-grandfather left the family nearly nothing. Edmond was killed so suddenly that his family had very little clue as to why. He had never received one ounce of gold from Clyde Franklin for building the vault, but what his family did have was three words that he muttered to his wife with his last breath as he lay on his front lawn dying. Those words would be kept as a family secret and would prove to be very significant over a hundred years later.

  John Hopes was using an old wheel-type decoder that he had brought along from a long forgotten board game that he had picked up somewhere along the way as a novelty. It was about the size of a greeting card and had five spinning wheels on it. The user would line up the wheels with the letters that were available and the decoder, when turned over, would give you the most likely letters to the word that you were looking for down at the bottom. That 25-cent flea market item was paying for itself over and over tonight. They had filled in the blank spaces in less than two hours and were now nearly ready to decipher
the meaning of this century-old riddle. Two words to go.

  Boom, boom, boom! A thunderous pound on the door upstairs caused both of them to jump. A look of fear washed over Elton Mansfield’s face as he looked at Hopes, hoping he would know what to do. Hopes looked up at him from his chair with an expression of anxiety. They both froze.

  “Who could it be?” Hopes whispered.

  “I have no idea. No one should be here!”

  Boom, Boom, Boom! Again.

  Mansfield slowly stepped from beside the desk to ease over to the bottom of the stairs. The small corner light that was on downstairs was enough to shoot a beam of light up the stairway and he could see that beam of light hit the front wall upstairs. Thinking, Mansfield knew that the door was locked and that he could safely see who it was by peeking through the front blinds.

  Boom, Boom, Boom! Persistence.

  John Hopes still looked concerned as Mansfield slowly ascended the fourteen steps to the main floor. He could see a figure through the frosted glass of the front door as he approached it. The blinds were drawn tight on the windows. Mansfield slowly approached the window and ever so slightly parted two blinds to see outside. A flashing blue light hit him square in the eye. Police! But why?

  His instinct was to turn and ease back down stairs but again, why, really? He was doing nothing illegal. Private, yes, and confidential, yes but illegal? No!

  Mansfield took a deep breath and put his hand toward the locks to see what this was all about.

  As he opened the deadbolt and then the knob lock, the man on the outside did the rest. The door opened swiftly, and, to his surprise, there stood the leathered face of Red Creek’s finest.

  Elton Mansfield had a look of astonishment on his face as Sheriff Collins invited himself in. He smelled like eight hours of driving around with your windows open. End of his shift.

  Collins looked at Mansfield and then looked around the room.

  Mansfield stuttered, “Sheriff is there something I can help you with? Uh...we, we have been closed for a few hours.”