Young Whit and the Traitor's Treasure

by Phil Lollar

  Emmy grabbed his arm and asked, “What is wrong with you?”

  He took a quick, deep breath and tried to stay calm. “Are you free right now?” he replied.

  “No. Because Ben’s in jail, I volunteered to help clean up the girls’ restroom.”

  “Yeah, I was supposed to help with the boys’, but not now. I need to check it out.”

  “Check what out?”

  “Look, finish up with the girls’ bathroom as soon as you can and meet me at Lover’s Circle at Granville House!” He grabbed his book bag, jumped up, and grinned broadly. “I think I just solved the riddle!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The sermon! And the old man in my dream! That’s why it was so familiar!

  Johnny raced home. At the front door, he paused. He could hear Charlie and Fiona playing around back. He knew his father was still at the university. Good. He didn’t have time to answer questions right now.

  He went inside, crossed the living room quickly, shot up the stairs, and slipped into his room. He went to his desk and picked up the small Bible his folks had gotten for him when they moved to America. He flipped through it rapidly to the New Testament, found the verse he was looking for, and had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

  Incredible.

  Johnny emptied his bag of school materials and stuffed the Bible inside. He was headed back to the stairs when he heard Fiona and Charlie enter through the back door, and Fiona tell Charlie to go up to her room. He went back into his room, eased the door closed, crossed to the window, opened it, clambered out onto the porch roof, and climbed down the trellis again. Once on the ground, he raced off to Granville House.

  He sprinted the entire distance, ignoring the stitch in his side. He was so excited about finally getting some answers that, as he cut across the water tower property, he didn’t notice Arty emerging from a bush and coming at him until it was too late. Arty tackled him. They rolled toward the wrought iron fence, and Johnny wound up on his stomach, with Arty sitting on top of him. Johnny could barely breathe, and his hands were pinned to his sides by Arty’s knees.

  Then a pair of beat-up sneakers stepped into Johnny’s view, and Wilson crouched down above them, his face contorted into a livid sneer. “You don’t learn very good, do you, traitor?” he said. He held up the drawing Johnny had made for Luke’s science project. “You keep buttin’ into my business, so I’m just gonna hafta keep poundin’ you ’til you stop!”

  But right then, a clump of muddy grass sailed through the air out of nowhere and hit Arty smack in the face. “Aaack!” he yelled. He sputtered and rolled off Johnny and into Wilson, sending them both sprawling.

  Johnny rolled the opposite direction and sprang up, ready to fight, but more mud blobs rained down on Arty and Wilson, and a few dirt clods as well. “Ugh! Where are they coming from?” Arty shouted.

  “Behind the fence!” Wilson answered. “Aack! It has to be Emmy—pfft!” A clump missile had hit him right in his open mouth.

  Johnny laughed and, as the goons writhed on the ground, took the opportunity to beat a hasty retreat. He dashed to the end of the fence line, turned the corner, sped to the gates, and slipped inside the Granville House property. He expected to see Emmy running toward him from the fence, but she didn’t. He wove his way through the grass and brush to Lover’s Circle and clambered inside.

  He heard shouts in the distance and running footsteps. A minute later, Emmy also climbed into the circle. “Man, Wilson and Arty are mad!” she announced.

  Johnny gave her a curious look. “Wait, did you just get here?” he asked.

  “Yeah! They’re running up and down the street, yelling your name. I had to wait ’til they ran around the corner to come through the gates!”

  “Then who ...?” He looked back toward the fence. Could it be?

  “Who what?”

  Johnny shook the thought away. “Never mind.”

  Emmy sighed, exasperated. “Fine. What about the riddle?”

  Johnny took a deep breath and swallowed. “Okay, so in English we were reading Shakespeare, and I saw the word hart in the text!”

  Emmy blinked. “And?”

  “Hart is another word for deer!”

  “Oh! So it’s not buck?”

  “No! And when you look at the riddle, the fourth clue is: ‘Lovers in love love my name, for it’s where their loves begin.’ Well, love begins in the heart!” He pointed to his chest. “It’s spelled differently, but—”

  “Got it! So that makes heart, soul, mineshaft—”

  “Not mineshaft,” Johnny cut in. “See, the clue says, ‘It’s what happened to all of my treasures, hidden in Earth’s crust.’ So, it’s not talking about the shaft itself, it’s talking about what came out of it—the treasures! They were mined!”

  Emmy nodded. “Okay, okay, then it’s heart, soul, mined, and mite?”

  Johnny grinned. “Sound familiar?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Yeah, I think ... but why?”

  “’Cause it’s a Bible verse! ‘Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all of thy heart, and with all of thy soul, and with all of thy mind, and with all of thy might.’ Heart, soul, mind, might.”

  “Oh!” Emmy brightened for a moment and then went back to confused. “So ... the gold is buried in a church?”

  Johnny shook his head. “No, you gotta remember the last two clues!” He reached into his bag, pulled out the Bible, and began thumbing through its pages. “Now, the last clue says, ‘Here at last, the final clue, and guaranteed to vex: To figure out, when is an X much more than an X?’” He found the verse and held up the Bible for Emmy to see. “Read where that Bible verse is found.”

  Emmy squinted in the shady light. “The Gospel of ... Mark.”

  Johnny smiled. “When is an X much more than an X? When it’s a mark! Like when people used to mark their names with an X—or on a treasure map, where X marks the spot!”

  Emmy looked awestruck, then asked, “But ... what spot? Where is it?”

  Johnny closed the Bible and put it back in his bag. “That’s where the next-to-last clue comes in! Remember—”

  At that moment, Wilson and Arty crashed in on them. “All right, Whittaker, you traitor,” Wilson growled, “we’re gonna pound you into the—”

  “AAAAARRRRGGGHH!”

  The roar echoed across the grounds. All four of the kids jumped as the man in the hooded cloak tore through the brush and into Lover’s Circle. Before they could move, he rushed to Emmy and grabbed her, one hand encircling her throat, the other pointing the dagger at her chest.

  She screamed! The boys froze in place, petrified. Wilson managed to squeak out, “G-great-Granddaddy!”

  “Quiet!” the “ghost” demanded, pointing the dagger at Arty. “You!”

  Arty wet his pants.

  “Get out!”

  Arty screamed, jumped, stumbled backward, tripped, hit his head on a large tree root, and went limp.

  Emmy shrieked.

  Johnny rushed to Arty and did a quick check. “He’s still breathing,” Johnny said, “but he’s out cold!”

  Wilson tried again. “Great-Granddaddy, I-I-I’m Wilson! Your great-grandson!”

  Johnny jumped up and said, “He’s not your great-grandfather!”

  The “ghost” laughed derisively. “I am the ghost of Thaddeus Knox!” he announced.

  Emmy whimpered.

  There was something familiar about the voice, Johnny thought, though the man was obviously trying to disguise it. Johnny forced himself to remain calm despite his shaking insides. “Then you knew my Great-Granduncle G.W. McClintock?” Johnny asked.

  “I did!”

  “You were friends?”

  “Until he betrayed me, and the South, and stole the gold!”

  Johnny took a deep breath. “If you were really friends, then what did ‘G.W.’ stand for?”

  The “ghost” hesitated. “I ... I ...”

  “Well?”

  The “ghost” ra
ised the dagger. “I am the ghost of Thaddeus Knox!”

  “You’re not the ghost of anyone!” Johnny moved closer. “If you were Thaddeus’s ghost, you’d know what ‘G.W.’ stands for! You wouldn’t be able to grab that dagger or Emmy’s throat! If you were a ghost, we’d be able to see through you—and it wouldn’t hurt when you get karate punched!”

  He looked right at Emmy. Her eyes hardened—message received. She clenched her fists, twisted rapidly, and with a muffled yell, plowed her elbow right into the “ghost’s” midsection.

  “Ooof!” The “ghost” staggered back, releasing Emmy from his grip, but only for a moment.

  She screamed, “Johnny!” and took a step toward him, but the “ghost” was too quick and grabbed her again, pointing the dagger at Johnny to keep him at bay. Emmy struggled in vain, and the “ghost” finally subdued her, but not before she knocked his hood off, exposing his face.

  Johnny recognized him instantly. “I knew it!” he said.

  It was the town hall records clerk.

  Emmy craned her neck to see him, and her jaw dropped. “You!” she shouted.

  Then Wilson surprised them both. “Uncle Milo?” he said.

  Chapter Twenty

  Johnny and Emmy gaped at Wilson. “He’s your uncle?” Johnny asked.

  Milo glared at Wilson and told him, “Yes, you dolt! It’s me!”

  Wilson’s face was a study in confusion. “W-w-what ... Are you ... W-why are you doing this?”

  “He wants the treasure!” Johnny said.

  “Treasure? What treasure?” Wilson replied.

  “The Confederate gold, simpleton!” Milo shouted. “And he knows where it is!” He pointed the dagger at Johnny.

  “What? But how—”

  “Shuddup, Wilson!” Milo snapped.

  Wilson stepped back and blinked.

  “You read them, didn’t you?” Johnny asked. “The slave archives.”

  “Of course I read them!” Milo replied derisively. “When I took over that job, I assumed they were just boxes of junk, like all the other stuff down there. Then when that janitor wanted to get at them so badly, I thought there might be something more to them.

  “Mostly the archives were praise and fawning for your great-granduncle—how wonderful he was to teach them to read and write even though it was illegal, blah, blah, blah. I was ready to chuck ’em all into the furnace. Then I came across old Huck’s narrative. It told a much different story. And I knew that because he was my granddad’s slave, and always around, it had the very real possibility of being the truth!”

  “What d’you mean ‘the truth’?” Wilson piped up. “We know the truth about great-granddaddy! He was a hero!”

  “No, he wasn’t, Wilson!” Emmy replied fiercely. “He was the coward, the liar, and the traitor!”

  “You lie!” Wilson shouted.

  “Huck was an eyewitness to what really happened, Wilson,” Johnny said.

  “That don’t mean he told the truth! Why should we believe him? Just ’cause he’s a former slave?”

  “No,” Johnny said, shaking his head slowly, “though that’s reason enough. It’s much more than that. Isn’t that so, Milo?”

  Wilson glowered at his uncle.

  Milo contemplated Wilson for a long moment, then inhaled deeply and said, “Yes.”

  Wilson looked as though he’d been slapped in the face. Defiance and rage morphed into pleading, and he took several short breaths and stared at his uncle through eyes filling rapidly with tears. “It can’t be. Please, Uncle Milo! Tell me you haven’t been lyin’ to me—to our family—this whole time!”

  Milo’s jaw tightened, and he considered his nephew for another long moment, then scowled. “Oh, grow up, Wilson!” he snarled. “Get out of your little fantasy world! There are more important things to worry about here!”

  Wilson exhaled sharply. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and Johnny felt a surprising pang of sympathy for him. Apparently Emmy did as well, for she said, “I’m sorry, Wilson.”

  Milo huffed. “It won’t matter once we get the treasure!”

  “How do you know it’s still around here?” Wilson sniffled. “How do you know his great-granduncle didn’t steal it?”

  “’Cause he also saw Huck’s album,” Johnny replied. “Didn’t you, Milo?”

  “Yes!”

  “What album?” Wilson sniveled.

  Emmy let out a frustrated sigh. “A photo album with clues about where the gold is!”

  “Clues your uncle couldn’t solve,” added Johnny.

  “No,” Milo growled, “though it wasn’t for lack of trying. Since this is the spot where the gold was originally buried, and where Huck dug it up to move it, I thought there might be more clues about the album around the grounds. But though no one is supposed to be allowed in here, kids constantly snuck in anyway. The place had all but become a playground for ’em.”

  “That explains the get-up!” Johnny said, pointing at Milo’s costume. “You saw the article in The Standard—”

  “Planted it, actually,” Milo said with a smirk.

  Johnny blinked. “Really?”

  Milo nodded. “Nothing like a good, old-fashioned ghost story to scare away kids.” He looked at Johnny, and a glare replaced the smirk. “Well, most kids, anyway. But even after they were gone, I couldn’t find any more clues. So I almost let it go. Then I heard you and Miss Capello here talking about it with Ben the other day, right here in Lover’s Circle. You were all so convinced, I thought I’d see how it’d play out. And from what I just heard, old Huck may have been too clever for me, but not too clever for you.”

  Wilson looked at Johnny and asked, “You really solved it?”

  Milo answered. “Yeah, he did! And he was just about to give Miss Capello here the last clue when you and pee pants busted in and ruined it!”

  He tightened his grip on Emmy’s throat, and she gasped. Milo turned to Johnny. “I wouldn’t want to have to hurt her, but I will unless you tell me where the gold is.”

  Johnny took a breath. “Let Emmy go and I’ll tell you.”

  Milo looked at him and grinned. “You got guts, son, I’ll give you that. But, no—you tell me first, and then I’ll let her go.”

  Johnny shook his head. “If I tell you, you won’t let any of us go. You can’t afford to. We know too much!”

  Milo gritted his teeth, his face contorted with fury. “I know I’m gonna hurt this girl very badly unless you tell me the last clue!”

  Johnny didn’t move.

  Milo pressed the point of the dagger into Emmy’s side. “Now!” he bellowed.

  Emmy squealed.

  Wilson suddenly rushed forward and pushed Johnny out of the way. “No, Uncle Milo!” he shouted.

  Milo backed up, dragging Emmy with him. “Stop! I mean it!” He squeezed harder, and Emmy began to choke.

  “Wilson!” Johnny barked. Wilson stopped.

  Milo eased his grip. “What do you think you’re doin’, boy?” he said to Wilson.

  “I’m not gonna let you hurt Emmy, Uncle Milo. You can take him if you want”—he jerked his thumb at Johnny—“but you need to let Emmy go.”

  Milo scoffed. “You’re sweet on her, aren’t you?”

  “Don’t make a difference if I am or not,” Wilson replied. “Somebody in this family’s gotta have at least a little honor.”

  Milo rolled his eyes and snorted. “You want honor? Fine—honor this!” He lashed out and clouted Wilson on the head with the butt of the dagger handle. Wilson slumped to the ground, unconscious.

  Emmy screamed and started crying. Johnny checked on Wilson.

  Milo waved off Johnny’s concern impatiently. “He’s all right. Just needed to knock some sense into him! Now, if you don’t want me to do worse to this girl, you better tell me what the last clue is!”

  Johnny felt his face flush with rage. He thought of rushing Milo, but he knew he couldn’t do that without risking Emmy’s safety. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she t
rembled so badly that Johnny thought she might collapse. He took a deep, calming breath and said, “Tell him, Emmy. You remember, don’t you?”

  Emmy gulped down her sobs, thought for a moment, and then nodded. “The clue is, ‘I have a face that cannot see or hear or taste or smell, I have hands that cannot grasp or hold, though they can tell.’”

  “So, what’s the answer?”

  “A c-clock!” she stammered.

  Milo’s brow furrowed. “A clock? What clock?”

  Johnny pointed. “That one!”

  They all looked, and between the tree limbs, they could just make out the town hall tower clock.

  “Huck was standing right here when he dug up the gold,” Johnny continued. “He figured that was the place to put it. X marks the spot, and the spot is the clock tower!”

  Milo stared, mouth open. “You mean, I’ve been searchin’ for this treasure for three years and it’s been right above where I work the whole time?” He burst out laughing. “Un-be-leeve-able!” He wagged his eyebrows at Johnny. “You really are a little Sherlock, aren’t you?”

  Johnny glared at him. “My name is John.”

  Milo shrugged. “I don’t care.”

  “You have the answer, Milo. Now let Emmy go!”

  “Oh, no-no-no-no-no. You were right. I can’t let either of you go. You’ll tell on me.”

  “S-so will Wilson and Arty!” Emmy sniffled.

  Milo chortled. “Arty still thinks I’m a ghost! And Wilson’ll come around. I’ll make sure of it. I just gotta figure out what to do with you two. Meanwhile, you’re both comin’ with me. You”—he pointed the dagger at Emmy—“to keep him in line, and you”—he pointed it at Johnny—“so I can make sure you haven’t tricked me.”

  He jerked his head toward one of the trees. “There’s rope over there, Sherlock. Get it and tie up Arty and my nephew. Then let’s go get my gold!”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Milo’s car was parked outside the fence on the other side of the Granville House property, opposite the water tower. Once Johnny had tied up Wilson and Arty, Milo cut off the rest of the rope and used it to bind Emmy’s and Johnny’s hands and string them together, with him holding the end so they couldn’t run away. Then he removed his hooded cloak and covered the unconscious boys. Finally, he, Johnny, and Emmy trekked across the property, slipped through a breach in the fence, and got in the car.