by Tara Ellis
“It’s going to be a while before Orion is settled enough,” Sam replies, finishing her pizza and finding a napkin to wipe her fingers on. “Lisa said at least a couple of days. I don’t blame her, either, he’s a big horse!”
Picking up a pencil, Sam starts doodling Orion’s brand on her napkin. She can’t seem to get the custom design out of her head.
“What’s that?” Startled by the voice near her ear, Sam jumps and then laughs at herself when she finds John looking over her shoulder.
“It’s just the brand on Orion. Pretty cool, huh?”
“But I thought the Covington mark was a C and R hooked together?” Hunter asks, joining the rest of them around the table.
“It is,” Ally offers. “But Lisa’s dad had one designed just for Orion, because he was a gift to Lisa.”
Shrugging, Hunter picks up two huge pieces of pizza, one in each hand. Grinning, he stacks them together and then takes a big bite. Not to be outdone, Cassy does the same and they’re soon in a race to see who can finish first.
“That’s pretty disgusting,” Ally mutters, scooting back out of the way when a chunk of peperoni comes flying at her.
“Hmmm.” Ignoring the food challenge, John picks up the napkin and studies the image. Turning it first one way, and then the other, he takes it with him over to his laptop that’s charging on a side table.
Intrigued, Sam and Ally follow him, sitting to either side on a small loveseat. Sam figures out what he’s doing as soon as he opens a map program. Entering the address for Covington Ranch, he selects a topographical version, and then pivots it around back and forth a few times.
“There!” both he and Sam say at the same time.
“What?” Ally asks, totally lost. “I don’t get it.”
“If this were to represent the top of the hill, where the house is,” John explains, pointing to the crest of the C. “Then this could be the trail leading down past the memorial,” he continues, tracing the first horizontal line.
“Isn’t there a creek that runs past the memorial?” Ally questions, starting to see it, too.
“Yeah, there is!” Sam gasps, pointing to the other, thicker line that matches up with the creek. “I remember talking about trying to fish in it for trout one summer.”
“This final line would be the one that goes past the memorial and ends up at the city park,” John concludes. “It’s a map, you guys!”
Hunter and Cassy have joined them now, wiping sauce off their faces.
“That star, the memorial, kind of looks like the fancy compass things they put on maps,” Cassy observes.
Nodding, Sam’s eyes widen. “Maybe it’s just a fancy version of ‘X marks the spot,’” she suggests, her voice low. When John and Hunter look at her questioningly, she sighs and then tucks her legs up under her, settling in to tell them the whole story.
Before she’s done, John is already on his laptop, running searches. “Her uncle Peter isn’t quite the businessman he likes everyone to believe he is,” he says after only a few minutes.
“What do you mean?” Sam asks, already chiding herself for not thinking to look into the man further.
“He lost out on a huge investment four years ago, when a business he was CEO of went bankrupt. It was a big scandal that made the papers, but apparently, he still had enough to keep afloat until the whole Eye of Orion Thing.”
“What was the name of the business?” Sam asks, suspicious.
“Umm … all it says is the stock name, Stuart Enterprise. Hang on; let me do another search using that name.”
Sam taps at her knee. She knows that name. Where has she heard it before?
“Michael Stuart Enterprise, a horse farm over in Idaho,” John announces. “According to this article, he was indicted on a bunch of racketeering and fraud claims. Although he was never found guilty of anything, it was enough to force him out of business.”
“Michael Stuart!” Sam exclaims, finally placing the name. “He was the main ranch hand that took off and abandoned Lisa’s aunt.”
“What a snake!” Cassy hisses. “And Peter Covington, too. How could Peter do that to his own niece? He had to have lured Michael away by offering him enough money to start his own business.”
“That’s horrible!” Ally agrees. “But karma got him in the end.”
“Maybe,” Sam says. “But somehow, Peter Covington still managed to land on his feet. Then, a year later, he sets Lisa up for the heist and collects his millions. Now, when that scam is threatened, he comes back to try and make sure it stays covered up.”
“I don’t get why Lisa doesn’t go to the police with all of this,” Hunter says, going back for more pizza.
“She’s scared,” Cassy tells him. “She always blamed herself for the theft, and now she’s convinced that Peter has some way to make the authorities believe she was in on it. I really think she’d rather just forget about it all. While the money would come in handy, it’s really painful to accept that her own uncle is doing this to her, not to mention what a scandal like that could do to her reputation as a teacher.”
“Except he’s made it clear that he doesn’t think of himself as her uncle,” Sam adds. “Which is another reason she probably hasn’t tried to turn him in. She has the Covington name, but legally, she can’t prove who she is. The only reason she’s even in the house is because of her Aunt Clara. Without those documents, she doesn’t really have a legal identity.”
“Maybe if we tell her about this new info on Peter, she’ll reconsider,” Ally says hopefully.
“Maybe,” Sam agrees. “It definitely makes him look more suspicious, but what we really need to prove it is the Eye of Orion.”
“And the documents, so that she can get her inheritance,” Cassy states.
“We can’t talk to her tonight,” Ally points out. “She’s at the birthday party at her Aunt’s house, remember? She won’t be back until late.”
Glancing up at the clock, Sam looks back down at the drawing. She and Ally then stare at each other briefly, before breaking out in wide grins.
“Uh-oh,” John moans. “I’ve seen those looks before. Why don’t you wait until tomorrow to go treasure hunting, so Hunter and I can go with you?” The two boys have their own birthday party to go to that evening, for one of their mutual friends on the football team.
“It’s probably nothing,” Sam says, trying to placate the older boy. “I’ll bet Jack Covington just tied in the family memorial because it has special meaning, but we have to be sure. It’s the only lead we’ve had so far, and probably our only chance of convincing Lisa of anything. I’d like to explore it before we talk to her tomorrow.”
“It’s not even five yet,” Cassy says, excited. “If we leave now, we should be able to get back before dark, right? How far is it on the trail to the memorial?”
“Less than an hour,” Sam says, jumping up. “Sorry guys,” she adds, turning to her brother and John. “Have fun at your party!”
Running across the room, Ally stops in front of her parents, explaining that they’d like to go on a quick hike up at the ranch.
“I don’t know,” Elizabeth replies, hesitating. “I thought those trails were off limits.”
“Lisa gave us permission to go on them whenever we want,” Ally tells her mom. “Her aunt put those signs out to keep the hunters away.”
“Well, as long as you’re back before it gets dark,” Mr. Parker says, ending the discussion.
Their stomachs protesting at the exercise so soon after eating, the girls pedal their bikes as hard as they can. It starts getting dark around eight, so even if they hurry, it’s going to be cutting it close.
They ride in silence for over fifteen minutes, concentrating on reaching their goal as fast as possible. Once there, they drop their bikes at the edge of the driveway in a now familiar routine and gather in an eager huddle near the archway.
“What do you think we’re going to find?” Cassy asks, untying her sweatshirt from around her waist and pul
ling it over her head. The afternoon was warm, but it’s already starting to cool off.
“Maybe nothing,” Sam answers. “Or maybe everything. Think about it. Jack Covington put a map on his daughter’s horse, a horse named Orion. The house has been searched several times, without a trace of anything. It would make sense that if Mr. Covington had the ruby, he would keep it somewhere on his property, somewhere safe. But he would also want to make sure that he left a way for his daughter to find it. The memorial, a family memorial, would be the perfect place to hide a family heirloom.”
“We better hurry,” Ally urges, her eyes big as she looks around at the woods and gathering shadows.
What she doesn’t see are the two men who are standing silently up around the next bend in the driveway, listening to their conversation with great interest.
20
BIRTHRIGHT
The trail is so overgrown that it slows the girls down. Sam leads the way. Although she’s wearing jeans and is careful, she still ends up brushing both of her hands against stinging nettles in her attempts to push back the foliage.
The green leafy plant loves the damp climate provided in the Pacific Northwest, especially here, close to the coast. The girls are all too familiar with its bite, and are usually good at avoiding it. Sam waves both of her hands in the air as she walks, and takes deep breaths while her eyes water. She knows the initial pain will fade after a few minutes, but at first, it’s always intense.
Ally is impressed at her best friend’s toughness. She would likely be hopping around and screaming if it happened to her. She’s despised the nettles ever since she was little and was traumatized by them after running into a cluster and falling face-first. It was a nightmare, and even now, she’s feeling extremely anxious just knowing that the plant is at her feet.
“It’s not that much farther,” Sam calls back over her shoulder. “I recognize this big tree up here. Remember, Ally? We used to go inside it and pretend it was our house.”
The old cedar tree stands out among its peers; its trunk is massive and twisted. It split at some point, forming two sections that then later bent back and grew together, causing a large alcove. It’s inviting to both critters and kids to explore its shadows.
“You’re right!” Ally agrees, relieved. It’s barely six, but seems much later this deep in the woods.
Less than five minutes later, the narrow trail drops down a steep bank, and then ends at a gigantic rock. Just past the rock is the equivalent of a cliff, looking out to the east. The valley floor spreads out before them, ending as impressive peaks paint a jagged skyline. These are the foothills of the Cascade Mountains.
“What an amazing view!” Cassy admires, leaning against the rock. “I can see why Mr. Covington chose this location for a memorial.”
Reading the plaque that’s attached to the rock at face level, Cassy crosses her arms. “So it’s for his parents. That makes sense. But I don’t see any sign of the gem.”
Sam steps forward and runs a ringer over the oxidized, brass plate. It’s been there for around twenty years. Lisa said she was three when they built the ranch with the inheritance money, and then her grandma died less than two years later. She turns twenty-six tomorrow.
Removing the backpack she brought along, Sam digs around in the pockets. Taking out a small flashlight, she hands that to Ally, who is happy to have it. Opening up the last side pocket, Sam finally smiles with satisfaction. “Here it is!” she shouts, pulling out a Swiss Army Knife.
“Sam, why do you carry around a flashlight and pocket knife?” Cassy questions, her expression puzzled.
Laughing, Sam flips out the screwdriver attachment, and begins working on the first screw in the plaque. “It’s not my school backpack, Cassy. I know better than to take a pocketknife to school! It’s my old camping backpack. I keep all my camping gear in it, and I grabbed it to throw my overnight stuff in when Ally invited us to stay the night.”
Satisfied with the explanation, Cassy then focuses on what Sam is doing. “Oh!” she exclaims, understanding now. “Good idea, Sam!”
Ally steps in close and turns the flashlight on, making it easier for Sam to see the tiny screws. There are only four of them, and in minutes, the plaque comes away in her hands. Being careful to put the screws in her jeans pocket first so she doesn’t lose them, Sam then turns the plaque over. The three girls lean forward, their foreheads touching above it.
“I can’t believe it!” Cassy shouts, when she sees the etching on the back.
“What does it say?” Ally demands, unable to read it because the words are upside down from her angle.
“Hold the light higher,” Sam directs, tipping the small piece of metal to catch the light.
“The bond of a family is that of love, not blood. Down this trail of life, we end at a place of rest, where a gift is adorned with luck. The same luck that guards our home, and holds our precious daughter close.”
After a moment, Cassy breaks the silence. “I don’t get it.”
Ally turns to Cassy, briefly blinding her with the flashlight before turning it off. “I don’t either. I mean, it kind of makes sense, about family and all, but it seems like there’s a message there that I don’t understand. What gift? What’s all the talk about luck?”
Sam’s face suddenly brightens, and she pulls the soiled napkin with the doodle from her back pocket. Ally recognizes the look, and her stomach stirs with excitement. Sam is onto something.
Taking the flashlight, Sam turns it back on, shining it on the drawing. Down this trail,” she murmurs, tracing the line that continues down from the star that marks the rock they’re standing at. “Ends at a place of rest!” she finishes, stretching her arm out to point down the hill. “Where does this trail start down there, you guys?”
“The cemetery!” Cassy is the first to reply, making the connection.
“Oh my gosh, I think you’re right!” Ally agrees, smiling. “But how does that help us?”
“Come on!” Sam shouts, already running down the hill. “It’s less than ten minutes from here.”
Ally and Cassy scramble to catch up, trying not to stumble over the exposed roots and branches. Fortunately, it’s soon obvious that visitors to the city park, making the plight up to the lookout, still use this bottom portion of the trail. The hike is much easier because of this, and they reach the entrance in just over five minutes.
“The gate is still open!” Sam hollers, not slowing down as she veers from the trail and towards the wide gravel walkway of the cemetery.
Once at the entrance, Sam finally stops, leaning over with her hands on her knees, and breathing heavily. Looking back, she waits for Ally and Cassy, straightening up when they reach her.
“Why are we here?” Cassy asks warily. Although she comes here once a year, she avoids it the rest of the time, and would rather not go in now.
“Do you really think the ruby is going to be here?” Ally asks, still catching her breath. “Are the Covingtons buried here?”
“No,” Sam answers, already walking again. “I’m pretty sure Lisa mentioned something about a family plot. I don’t think they’re here.”
“Then why are we here?” Cassy repeats, following at a distance. When she sees where Sam is headed though, her pace quickens.
When they stop, the three girls are standing in front of the ornate headstone for Cassy’s mom. Sam snaps on the flashlight, and directs its beam of light towards the bottom portion of the glittering marble, highlighting the horseshoe.
“Where a gift is adorned with luck!” Ally gasps, looking at Sam and then Cassy. “Didn’t you say this was donated by someone anonymously?”
Nodding slowly, Cassy just stares. “Why would Jack Covington donate a headstone to my mom, and then include it on some weird riddle?” she asks quietly.
Sam turns the plaque around that she’s still carrying and reads it again.
“The bond of a family is that of love, not blood. Down this trail of life, we end at a place of rest,
where a gift is adorned with luck. The same luck that guards our home, and holds our precious daughter close.”
Gasping, Sam looks up sharply, the flashlight splaying random light across the cemetery. “I know where it’s at!” she declares, her eyes blazing bright. “I know where he put The Eye of Orion!”
21
THE WEB WE WEAVE
“Sam, wait!” Ally calls out. Grabbing Cassy’s hand, she pulls the other girl along as they race to reach Sam, who is already out of the cemetery. Sam skids to a stop in the gravel, and looks back at them impatiently.
“Shouldn’t we, like, search the headstone for another clue or something?” Cassy asks, smiling at an older couple walking by with a bouquet of flowers.
“No,” Sam says bluntly, already walking again. “We don’t need to.” Pulling her cell phone out of her back pocket, she checks the time and then taps briefly at the screen. “Come on!” she urges, putting it away again. “It’s going to be dark soon.”
“You know something about my mom that you aren’t telling me,” Cassy says slowly, her eyes narrowed.
Sam turns and makes her way back to Cassy, who is standing with her arms crossed over her chest. Placing a hand on either shoulder, Sam meets her steady gaze. “Cassy, I don’t know anything for sure. Yes, I have an idea, but I’d hate to say it and be wrong. Please … can you trust me?”
Cassy stares at Sam, weighing her words. It’s been a very long time since Cassy was able to trust anyone, but she knows that Sam would never do anything to hurt her. Nodding slowly, she unfolds her arms and then rocks back off her heels. “We better go!”
The three girls run together in the fading light, going single file back up the pathway to the memorial, and then plunging into the thicker woods. Owls are beginning to call to each other, their voices easily mistaken for other, more mysterious creatures.
Sam concentrates on her breathing, focusing on it and the tempo that their feet make while pounding into the dirt of the forest floor. Taking the lead again, she makes sure to hold her hands up high this time, the redness that’s still present a fresh reminder of the danger.
