Hutchins Creek Cache

by Deborah Garner

  “I think that’s an excellent idea.” Playfully, she pulled away, picked up both coffee mugs and headed for the house, Jake just a few feet behind her.

  * * *

  “A mighty fine roast, Rose.” Henry crossed his fork and knife on his plate in surrender.

  “I second that,” Jesse said.

  “And I third it,” Stephen Porter added.

  “Auntie Rose is the best cook in the whole world,” Sam said.

  Paige joined in with her own words of appreciation. “It’s so kind of you to include us.”

  Rose laughed. “Well, you can’t eat at The Iron Horse every night. And I enjoy cooking. This old house needs to fill up with people sharing a family meal now and then.”

  “Does that make it a bed and dinner instead of a bed and breakfast?”

  Paige smiled at the Porter son’s logic. “I think that makes it a bed and breakfast and sometimes dinner,” she said.

  “That’s right,” Tommy said. “But not lunch. We eat lunch at the Rails Café. Or sometimes we go on picnics. Right, Dad?”

  “Sometimes I go on picnics with you,” Sam said.

  Stephen nodded. “That’s right, you two. Sometimes we all go on picnics.”

  “A picnic sounds like a good idea,” Paige said. She looked at Jake, who nodded as he cleaned his plate of a last bite of roast.

  “Creekside Park is only a few blocks past the museum,” Rose offered. “Rails Café makes box lunches. You could pick a couple up tomorrow and spend the afternoon in the park. The creek runs right through it. Nice and peaceful there.”

  “You should go,” Tommy said. “There are turtles in the creek. They’re cool.”

  “And fish,” Sam added.

  “Sounds like a great recommendation,” Paige said. “Maybe we’ll do that tomorrow. I have some research to do in the morning, but the afternoon should work.”

  “It’s always good to take breaks,” Rose pointed out in true motherly fashion. “All work and no play doesn’t do anyone a bit of good,”

  “Speaking of work,” Stephen said as he turned to Jesse. “How are things going with The Morning Star restoration project? I didn’t have a chance to ask you when we stopped by.”

  “It’s coming along,” Jesse answered shortly. Paige thought he sounded evasive, as if he wasn’t eager for others to know about the slow progress, much less the undesirable steps backwards.

  “Well, good,” Stephen said, oblivious to Jesse’s reluctance to expand on the topic. “That model inside is so attractive. We can hardly wait to see the original car outside looking just as refined.”

  “It’ll look spiffy when it’s done,” Henry agreed. “Don’t you think so, Tommy?”

  The young Porter boy nodded. “Spiffy,” he repeated. “I like that word, ‘spiffy.’”

  “Well, now, that’s because it’s a spiffy word,” Henry said.

  Rose cleared plates, refusing Paige’s help. “You’re a guest,” she admonished. “You’re not allowed to do chores.” She chuckled as she took the plates to the kitchen and returned with a peach pie. The guests applauded as she cut slices and passed them around the table.

  “None for me, thank you,” Paige said. "I’m too full after that wonderful meal, Rose. I couldn’t eat another bite.”

  “I’ll have your slice and mine, too!” Tommy’s face lit up at the thought.

  “You’ll have your slice only,” Stephen said. “No stomach aches for you tonight.”

  “Aw, all right.”

  “I’m going to pass, too, but I’ll take a rain check,” Jake said. “It looks delicious.”

  “No crime being too full for dessert,” Rose laughed. “I take that as a compliment.”

  “You should,” Jesse said, standing up. “Thanks for another great meal, Rose.” He hugged his sister and headed out with Sam. Henry thanked Rose and followed Jesse. Tommy and Stephen left for an after dinner walk, what Rose called a Porter family tradition.

  “A quiet evening in?” Jake smiled at Paige.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “You up…for a… field trip?”

  Paige leaned over as she spoke, hands on her knees, catching her breath from her morning run. Dressed in old leggings, a torn sweatshirt and perspiring like a gym rat, she knew she wasn’t in any shape to head anywhere. But she could take a fast shower and towel dry her hair in time to get on the road.

  “Field trip? Aren’t we already on one?”

  Jake folded the local morning paper and set it down beside his coffee. Just seeing him waiting on the front porch was enough to take away what little breath Paige had left after her run.

  “The…altitude here…is over 9,300 feet, right?” Paige panted.

  “Yep,” Jake quipped. “A good 3,000 feet higher than Jackson Hole. Just think how much easier it will be to run there.”

  Paige smiled at yet another attempt to convince her to move west. She had a good idea what her answer would be, but wasn’t ready to end Jake’s wondering. A little suspense couldn’t hurt, right?

  “I’ll take Manhattan any day for an easy morning run.”

  “Even with taxis trying to run you over?”

  “I’m very adept at dodging them,” Paige protested. “I have years of practice. I can dodge pretzel vendors, too.”

  “Pretzel vendors?”

  “Never mind,” Paige laughed. “What do you say to the field trip?”

  “You expect me to agree without even knowing where we’re going?

  Paige tapped a finger against her lip. “Would you agree? It would be an adventure.”

  “No doubt, with you in the lead,” Jake laughed.

  “And…it will be an overnight adventure. Pack your bag. I’ll tell Rose we’ll be away tonight, so she won’t worry.”

  Before Jake could answer, Paige disappeared inside the inn, headed for the shower. In less than an hour, they were on the road.

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Jake glanced at Paige as he drove out of Hutchins Creek. “‘Turn left and head north’ isn’t quite enough for me to go on.”

  Paige propped her feet up against the dashboard and fumbled with a map. After turning it several times, she settled it across her legs and traced a route with her index finger.

  “I’m thinking north to Interstate 70 and then east…” She paused. “No, maybe cutting across Highway 50 is better. Looks a little shorter. What do you think?”

  “I think it would be easier for me to answer if you told me where we were going.”

  Paige looked up and smiled. “Denver.”

  “Denver?” Jake exclaimed. “That’s a good six hours from here.”

  “Well, I did say it was an overnight trip. It’s only mid-morning. We’ll be there before dinner.”

  “OK, I give up. What’s in Denver?”

  Paige looked out the window, avoiding Jake’s quick glances in her direction. “Well, for one thing, the Colorado Railroad Museum is just outside Denver. It’s much larger than the museum in Hutchins Creek. They may have additional information Jesse can’t offer.”

  “Paige, I know you too well,” Jake said. “You’re looking the other direction while you’re telling me this, so I know you’ve got something else up your sleeve. Might as well confess.”

  “A romantic overnight escape doesn’t quite cut it?”

  “Nope. We’re already on one of those.” Jake said. “So, spill it.”

  Paige sighed. “OK. I sent an email to the Denver Mint yesterday after we got back from Silverton.”

  “Don’t tell me…”

  “I had an email from them this morning, before I went running. They give tours; we can take one tomorrow morning.” Paige’s voice grew more animated as she explained. “And I figure someone will be able to look at the coin and give us more information about it.” She patted her hip, where the gold coin was safely pocketed. “We can take the tour, ask about the coin, and get back to Hutchins Creek by tomorrow night.�
�

  “How did I not see this coming?” Jake fought back a smile, unsuccessfully.

  “I knew you wouldn’t mind,” Paige whispered, leaning over to kiss Jake’s shoulder before scooting closer to place another kiss on his neck.

  “Careful,” Jake said, grinning. “I’m trying to watch the road.”

  “Gotcha,” Paige agreed, looking back at the map. “Kind of glad to hear I’m a distraction, though.” She smiled and shot him a sideways look.

  “You have no idea,” Jake laughed. Reaching over with one hand, he squeezed the back of Paige’s neck. She dropped her head forward, enjoying the strength of his fingers on her muscles for a few seconds before he let go to keep both hands on the wheel. She rested her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.

  * * *

  “Where are we?”

  Paige lifted her head, glancing first out the window and then at Jake. She hadn’t intended to doze off, but the movement of the vehicle, along with the soothing feeling of Jake’s presence, had lulled her into a short nap. Or was it short?

  “Well, hello there, Rip Van MacKenzie,” Jake said. “To answer your question, we’re about two hours outside of Denver.”

  “Seriously? I’ve been asleep for four hours?” Paige sat up and stretched her arms as much as was possible within the confined space. She rubbed her eyes and ran her fingers through her disheveled hair. Pulling down the visor, she took a peek in the mirror, shrugged and flipped the visor back up. All things considered, she could look worse. Her freshly washed hair from the morning shower looked windswept and natural. Her green T-shirt matched her eyes. She hadn’t even lost one of her silver earrings while she slept, though a line on the side of her face showed she’d had her head pressed against the seat for much of the trip.

  “You look as beautiful as ever,” Jake said.

  “Thanks. But you’d say that whether it were true or not.”

  “Maybe,” Jake admitted. “But it happens to be true.” He paused. “Just as true as all those things you said in your sleep…”

  “What?” Paige shook her head. “I don’t talk in my sleep.”

  “Sure you do,” Jake continued. “Something about a handsome cowboy and a big ranch and…”

  “OK, I get the picture,” Paige laughed. “I’m pretty sure I don’t talk in my sleep, but I admit I do dream about you sometimes.”

  “Really? Do tell,” Jake said, relaxing against the seat, a smug look on his face.

  “Well, let me see…” Paige said slowly, as if she were trying to remember details. “Usually you’re walking briskly along a sidewalk in Manhattan, dressed in a suit, glancing at your watch, worrying about being late to your Wall Street job.”

  “Seriously?”

  Paige smiled at Jake’s horrified look. She’d concocted what she knew would be his worst nightmare. “Of course not,” she laughed.

  They fell into a comfortable silence. Jake focused on navigating winding roads while Paige admired the Rocky Mountain scenery flowing by, lost in her own thoughts. Portions of the visit to the coin shop kept popping into her head – the strange expression on Chancy Conroy’s face when he saw the coin, his attempt to find out where they were from just as they were leaving. She always trusted her instincts, and they told her there was a story behind the old man’s reaction to their visit. Which translated to a story about the coin. From the moment they met the old man, she had no doubt he was odd. But he changed into something more when he saw the coin.

  “He knows more about it than he’s saying,” Paige mumbled, half to herself.

  “What? Are you talking in your sleep again?”

  “Ha. No, I’m just thinking that Chancy Conroy knows more about that 1926 Double Eagle than he let on when we were there, beyond the basic details he explained. I think he knows its story.”

  “You can’t be sure, Paige,” Jake said. “He’s obviously eccentric. He might have just been excited to see that particular coin. Maybe he has a collection with all but that one in it. Or he might have a buyer who’s been looking for a Double Eagle from that year. He certainly was eager to buy it.”

  “That’s true,” Paige said. “And I don’t doubt he was eager to buy it. But I’m telling you there’s something more going on.”

  “Your hunches are usually right, I admit.”

  “Then I say we get into Denver, find dinner and a comfortable place for the night. And we’ll see what the Denver Mint has to say about our eagle in the morning.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Paige leaned against the wall outside the Cherokee Street entrance to the Denver Mint, blowing across her vanilla latte to cool it down.

  “We really had to be here this early?” Jake held his own coffee, strong and black with “none of that fancy stuff,” as he’d described it when he ordered.

  “Yes,” Paige said, not for the first time that morning. “We were lucky to get the eight o’clock tour as it is, thanks to a cancellation. They’re booked all week. And we’re required to be here thirty minutes early.”

  “Which explains why we’re here just a few minutes after seven?”

  “Better early than late,” Paige said, watching Jake yawn. She knew he wasn’t complaining, that he was just giving her a hard time. The basic, but convenient lodging they’d taken for the previous night was close by. It had been easy to be on time for the early tour. “Besides, we have a long drive to get back to Hutchins Creek later today, so the earlier we take the tour the better.”

  “True,” Jake said. “Plus, you said you want to swing by the Colorado Railroad Museum on the way out.”

  “Exactly.” Paige sipped her hot beverage and gave Jake a sweet smile. “A whirlwind trip, right? Exciting.”

  “Sure,” Jake quipped. “Seven hundred round trip miles of excitement.”

  “Beautiful scenery, though,” Paige pointed out.

  “I can’t argue with that. I’ve always loved the Rocky Mountains,” Jake admitted. He downed the rest of his coffee and threw the empty cup in a nearby trashcan. “Glad these are biodegradable. Can’t take them inside, you know.”

  Paige nodded. “I know. Small wallet in one pocket and cell phone – turned off – in the other. That’s it. I read up on the rules when I made the reservation.” She finishing her latte and threw her cup in the can after Jake’s.

  “Can’t blame them for not wanting backpacks or purses inside,” Jake said.

  “Absolutely,” Paige agreed as she watched others arrive, including the guide, who checked names and confirmation numbers before starting the tour.

  “The Denver Mint has been producing coins at this location since 1906.” The guide, a middle-aged gentleman with short, brown hair and wire-rimmed glasses, looked a bit like a university professor. He gave a brief history of the building and process of coin production, and the detailed descriptions he offered convinced Paige that their guide, Edward Ferguson, was the right source for information. She followed along throughout the facility as he explained the steps of blanking, annealing, upsetting and striking the coins. Although her primary goal was to learn more about the specific coin in her pocket, the tour fascinated her.

  “It never occurred to me that so much went into making coins,” Paige said to Jake as the group disbursed to hunt for souvenirs in the gift shop.

  “I never thought about it, either,” Jake said. He lifted a commemorative set off a display, admiring the presentation.

  “I’ll be right back,” Paige whispered, taking off before Jake could ask where she was headed. Edward Ferguson had just finished answering a question from another tour member.

  “Mr. Ferguson,” Paige said, catching him just as he was turning to leave. “I’m Paige MacKenzie. I just took your tour and was hoping to ask a few questions.”

  “Yes, Ms. MacKenzie.” The resigned, yet polite, expression on the guide’s face told Paige the normal question and answer period was over. Yet she’d had to wait until the other tour members had moved on in order to speak with him in
private.

  “It’s just Paige. And I’m sorry. I know you’ve already answered questions. But the tour was wonderful. You’re obviously knowledgeable, and I have a specific question.”

  “Thank you,” the guide said, taking off his glasses. Pulling a cloth out of his pocket, he began cleaning one of the lenses. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I like giving tours, and I’ve spent my lifetime studying coins. It’s my passion, really. I’m happy to answer your question.”

  Paige looked over her shoulder impulsively, and she realized immediately that the gesture might make it appear as if she were doing something prohibited. She shook off the feeling and turned back to the guide, pulling the coin out of her pocket.

  “This is what I wanted to ask you about.”

  The guide glanced at the coin, squinting.

  “Nice replica of a Double Eagle. Those were beautiful coins back in the day. A lot of them got melted down when Roosevelt recalled them.”

  Paige felt an equal mix of confusion and disappointment. Could it be just a replica? Why would Chancy Conroy have offered five hundred dollars on the spot for the coin? Either the appraiser didn’t know what he was talking about, or the guide was confused.

  “Yes, I’ve heard a little about that,” Paige said, stalling while the guide moved the cloth to the other lens. Finished with cleaning, he placed the glasses squarely on the bridge of his nose and took another look at the coin, this time more closely. His eyebrows rose in surprise. He nodded toward the gift shop and walked that way, Paige following closely behind.

  “Louise, let me see that loupe you’ve got on hand.”

  The gift shop clerk, a spry senior citizen, reached below the counter and pulled out the now-familiar magnification tool. “Now, don’t you go forgetting you borrowed that, Fergie.”

  Paige smiled at the clerk’s use of a nickname for the guide.

  “Let’s go look at this coin a little closer,” Ferguson said. He headed to a doorway in the far corner of the gift shop. Paige waved at Jake and motioned for him to join them.