by Tara Ellis
“Tomorrow we’ll look around the house,” Sam says. “Maybe we’ll see something that fits the description.”
Ally looks skeptically at Sam, thinking. “Okay, but I don’t know, Sam. Your aunt said that the property is nearly two hundred acres. There’s no guarantee that the money is hidden here, in the house. His sons spent years looking for it before they died. It’s been decades since he wrote that. Maybe whatever he’s describing doesn’t even exist anymore.”
Sam has always appreciated the way her smart friend thinks about things. Ally is absolutely right, but Sam isn’t about to give up.
“Maybe, Ally, but what if we find it? It would mean everything to my aunt and uncle. Not only would it prevent them from losing the inn, but they would be able to expand like they want to. Imagine how much fun it would be to come here next year and stay in a cabin on the lake!”
Smiling, Ally reads through the poem again. “It would be kinda cool if we figured it out. If we don’t, though, we have to be sure and give this to your aunt.”
“Oh, of course!” Sam replies, happy that Ally seems more interested now. “Even though they don’t believe in it, it’s still their property, so we have to give it to them. We’ll just…use it for a little while first.”
“You know, even though I’m going through phone withdrawals, I’m really glad I came,” Ally confesses, handing the poem back. “To be honest with you, it’s almost a relief to not have to be messaging people constantly.”
Sam is surprised to hear this. She’s always thought Ally loved texting and the social media stuff. Sam, on the other hand, often feels stressed out by it. It’s good to know that she isn’t the only one. “I know what you mean,” she finally says. “At first it was fun, but now it’s almost a burden at times. I feel like if I don’t answer someone right away, or constantly share things about what I’m doing, people will think I’m weird.”
“Seriously?” Ally asks hesitantly. “I didn’t know you feel that way, Sam. We hardly talk anymore after school. I mean, we text and stuff, but it’s not the same. Remember how we would always be on the phone or at each other’s houses? It drove our parents crazy!”
Laughing, Sam takes Ally’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “I know,” she says. “Let’s make a pact. Let’s promise that from now on, we won’t just text each other. If we want to talk, we’ll actually call. I miss the way the things used to be, too.”
Ally gives Sam a hug, then quickly grabs one of the dropped pillows. “I think we need to finish something,” she says mischievously.
“Wait!” Sam hollers, as the pillow slams into her head. “No fair! I don’t have one!” Careful to avoid the open journal and poem on the floor, Sam runs from her room and into Ally’s. She arms herself with several more pillows from the big bed. For the next fifteen minutes, they act very much like the little girls they were just remembering.
That is, until Uncle Bill knocks on the door.
“Sam? Ally? Is everything okay?” Embarrassed, they drop their pillows. Sam looks at the clock on the nightstand next to Ally’s bed and is shocked to see that it is nearly midnight.
“Sorry, Uncle Bill!” she calls softly. “We’re okay. Just messing around. We’re going to sleep now.” They are answered by the sound of his heavy footsteps going back down the hallway. Looking at each other, they break out again in laughter, muffled by the pillows held to their faces.
They say goodnight and then go straight to bed. Back in her own room, Sam decides to leave the journal where it is, afraid to move it while it’s still wet. The poem, however, she carefully refolds and hides in her bag.
“I knew you’d tell us,” she whispers, zipping up the bag. “Now all I have to do is understand what you’re saying.”
9
CABIN IN THE WOODS
Morning arrives quickly. Both girls are still yawning while they walk behind Ted, following a trail of sunflower seed shells. The forest calls out to them as they go along the winding path, gradually climbing higher up the mountain. More than an hour has already elapsed since leaving the inn, but Ted has kept up a steady pace.
As they come to a level area, Sam has a chance to catch her breath and decides to ask Ted what he knows about the mine.
“I heard there used to be a mine here somewhere. Do you know anything about it?”
“Of course I do,” Ted answers without pause. “It’s well-known around here as the biggest producing mine in the county.”
“What?” Ally exclaims.
“I should say that it used to be,” he continues. “Shawn and his brother were the first ones to mine the area, and the most successful. They had just hit a big vein of gold when there was a cave-in. Shawn survived, but his brother and two other men were buried alive.”
“How horrible!” Sam cries, imagining what it must have been like.
“Shawn never recovered from the loss,” Ted continues. “He used some of the gold to build the house for his wife…as far away from the mine as possible. No one ever saw the rest of the gold, though. Some people speculated that it never really existed, but I think his sons were right. They believed he just didn’t want to spend the blood money, so he hid it away, instead.”
“There!” Ted says suddenly, pointing across an open ravine to a large outcropping of rock on the opposite side. “That’s called…”
“Why, that has to be Michael’s Peak!” Ally announces.
“That’s right,” Ted confirms. “How did you know that? I thought your aunt wanted it to be a surprise.”
“We read about it in the--”
Ally stops as Sam jabs her with an elbow and gives her a disapproving look.
“The journal?” Ted asks, turning around to face them. “I didn’t know that Shawn Hollow’s journal was still around after all this time. No one besides his kids ever saw it, as far as I know.”
“Um…yeah. Well, it was up in the attic,” Sam says, reluctant to share the information. “It’s just an old, dusty thing with a bunch of stories. My aunt and uncle haven’t even read it.” She tries to make it sound as boring as possible. The last thing she wants is for anyone else to get in on the hunt.
Sam almost walks into Ted’s back as he comes to a sudden stop in front of her.
“Oh man, it’s ten already!” he says, frowning as he looks at his watch. “I’ve got to start back. I know we originally planned a longer hike, but I’ve got some work that needs to get done this afternoon. If you want to keep going, just stay on this path and it’ll take you around to the rock. It’s roped off, and I would definitely stay inside the marked area. You kids have fun.”
“Okay, I guess we’ll see you later then,” Sam says, her face burning at his comment. She hates to be called a kid; she’s practically a teenager.
“Thank you, Ted!” Ally calls after him as he waves and disappears around a bend. As soon as he’s out of sight, she turns to face Sam. “Why did you do that?” she demands, rubbing her sore ribs.
“I’m not so sure we can trust him,” Sam explains, still staring at the empty trail. “I don’t want anyone to know about this poem until we find out what it means.” She pats the back pocket of her jeans. “We need to be the ones to solve this.”
“He probably knows this property better than anyone,” Ally counters. “Maybe he could help us.”
“Oh my gosh!” Sam says, grabbing Ally’s arm. “I just realized something! Now I know I don’t trust him.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We never said it was Shawn Hollow’s journal. How did he know that?”
Ally crosses her arms, thinking about it. “He probably just put one and one together. It’s not like the journal’s existence is a secret. It wouldn’t be that hard to figure out. That doesn’t prove anything.”
“Maybe not,” Sam confesses, “but from now on, let’s be careful what we say when we’re around him. Now, let’s get over to that rock. I’m wondering if we can see the lake from there! We should look for carvings in it, too.�
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After another twenty minutes of walking, they reach the lookout and find that the view is breathtaking. They can’t see the lake, but it’s still spectacular. Getting down on their hands and knees, they examine the surface as far as they can but don’t see anything that even comes close to resembling a bird…or any other kind of carving. Feeling let down, they break out the snacks they brought with them.
“Let’s just go back,” Sam says, stuffing their trash back in the bag. “Maybe we’ll have time to check out the mine. I think that’s going to be our best bet.”
Gingerly picking their way back off the large rock, they reach the bottom and start back along the trail.
“Don’t you think the mine would be a pretty obvious hiding place?” Ally cautions. “I’m sure that’s one of the first places the sons would have looked.”
“I guess,” Sam says slowly, “but they wouldn’t have had the clues that we do.” She pauses, bending over and picking a blue bandana up off the ground. She holds it out for Ally to see. “Hmm, what’s this?”
“Maybe Ted dropped it?” Ally suggests, taking it from Sam.
“No, he didn’t have a bandana. I’m sure of it. It doesn’t look like it’s been out here for very long, either.”
“One of the guests must have dropped it while hiking, then,” Ally concludes, shrugging her shoulders. She starts walking again.
“Wait!” Sam calls out. “I think there’s another trail here!”
Turning back, Ally goes to stand next to her friend, and they both examine the foliage where the scarf was lying. Sure enough, there appears to be a deer trail of some sort. Before Ally can object, Sam takes off down the path. “Let’s find out where it goes!”
“Sam!” Ally cries, hesitating for a moment. When Sam disappears, she takes a deep breath and then quickly catches up to her.
Within minutes of following the narrow, winding path, they emerge into a small clearing. An old, dilapidated cabin sits on the edge of the open area. River rock from a crumbled chimney lies scattered on the ground. An old wooden door leans outward on rusted hinges, and bare holes gape where glass once formed windows.
“I’m not going in there!” Ally protests, anticipating Sam’s intentions.
“Fine,” Sam says, starting across the clearing. She disappears through the cabin door. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the murky darkness, and what she sees quickens her pulse.
“Ally, come here!” she calls out.
Forgetting her uneasiness, Ally runs for the door, imagining all sorts of horrible things. When she gets there, she looks inside and lets out a sigh of relief. In a pile on the floor are fins, a face mask, and an air tank.
“So, this is our fish from the lake,” Sam says. Looking around the small room, she confirms her suspicions. Stacked on precarious looking shelves are cans of food and supplies. A broken cot lies in the corner with moth-eaten blankets covering it, and a portable camp stove sits beside it. “Someone’s living here,” she says, stating the obvious.
The girls move back out into the daylight and inspect the woods around them cautiously.
“I suppose you’re not going to tell your aunt about this, either,” Ally complains.
“No.” Sam confirms. Taking the poem out of her back pocket, she faces her friend. “Now that we have this, I know we can find the money. I’m sure this place is connected to the mysterious things going on. If my aunt finds out what happened at the lake, and about the person living here, our vacation will be cut short for sure, like tonight. Then who’ll solve this riddle? No one! They don’t believe there’s anything hidden here. They wouldn’t even look for it!”
Neither girl speaks for a while, until finally Ally nods her head. “I guess you’re right. But Sam, this is trespassing. I know if this all isn’t resolved soon, your aunt and uncle are going to be forced to sell. But this isn’t something we can hide for very long. Let’s agree to tell them everything if we don’t find the money in a couple of days. Okay?”
“Agreed,” Sam answers. “Two days. Now, let’s get out of here before the person that stuff belongs to gets back.”
As the girls make their way out of the clearing, they fail to see the eyes watching them from the woods.
10
CLUES
Sam and Ally arrive at the inn just in time for lunch. Keeping to their compromise, they mention nothing about the cabin or the diving gear. They find out that the maid has been given a couple of days off, since there aren’t any guests registered for the rest of the week. They’re happy to help out with whatever chores they can and eagerly go about cleaning up the lunch dishes.
“Aunt Beth,” Sam begins, stacking plates into the dishwasher. “We read about a gold mine last night in the journal. It’s somewhere here on the property, right?”
“Yes! I was going to suggest you go see that tomorrow. It’s at the very opposite end of the land. It’s a good three miles each way, but there is an old gravel road that we’ve kept clear enough to use as a bike trail. We have several bikes here for guests, and I thought it would make for a fun ride.”
“Would we be able to go today?” Ally asks.
Glancing up at the clock on the wall, Beth thinks about it for a minute, finally shaking her head. “I would prefer you wait and go in the morning. It’s already after one and I don’t want to take any chance of you not getting back before dark. There are all sorts of marked trails that branch off of it along the way. Knowing Sam, she’s going to want to explore them all. I think you would have more fun if you weren’t rushed for time.”
“I think you’re right, Aunt Beth,” Sam agrees. “We were going to walk around the inn and the property near the house, if that’s okay. There are all sorts of neat, old things.”
Laughing, Beth dries her hands. “Of course it’s okay. If you like antiques, there are enough in this old house to keep you entertained for a long time. I’ll just need a little help around dinner time, but you’re free until then!”
“Thanks!” Hugging her aunt, Sam then starts for the stairs. Pausing, she turns back. “Umm… Aunt Beth? About the journal. Last night, I accidently spilled some water on it. I think it’s okay, but some of the pages are damaged. I’m really sorry.”
“Well, thank you for being honest with me, Sam. I’m really not concerned about it, though. You can even keep the shabby thing, if you’d like. I have no use for it.”
Her face burning with shame over her aunt’s compliment for honesty, Sam mutters a thank you and hurries after Ally. They both reach Sam’s room at the same time and plop down on the bed. Taking the poem from her back pocket, Sam flattens it out on the comforter.
“‘I will place my life’s endeavors where forever your beauty I’ll hold,’” she reads out loud. “This doesn’t make any more sense now than it did last night,” Sam complains.
“Let me see it,” Ally says, taking the poem. “‘The sun does set on your golden head as I watch, ever waiting.’ Hey! Maybe there’s an old picture of Florence somewhere, facing west.”
“That’s a better idea than I can come up with,” Sam remarks. “I think I remember seeing some portraits in the family room. Let’s start looking around there and work our way outside. We’ve got several hours still before it gets dark!”
On their way to the door, Sam glances at the nightstand where she left the journal that morning. “Ally!” she cries, “the journal is gone!”
Ally turns to the empty table that Sam is pointing at and stares in disbelief. “Are you sure you put it there?” she asks, opening the small drawer to double check.
“Of course I’m sure. The pages were dry this morning, so I closed it and put it back there. Oh, who would want to take it?”
“Someone who’s looking for the same thing we are,” Ally surmises.
“My aunt would’ve just asked for it,” Sam ponders. “And Uncle Bill certainly wouldn’t take it. That leaves just the maid and Ted. I’m pretty sure the maid left last night, though.”
; “Ted knew it was here,” Ally says quietly. “I told him it was this morning. He sure seemed to be in a rush to get back here all of a sudden when we were hiking. I guess you were right, Sam.”
“Wait a minute,” Sam gasps. “It makes sense now.”
“What does?” Ally asks.
“The first night we got here, remember how Ted helped my uncle carry his groceries in? Well, he must have seen us with the journal then and that’s why he broke into my room that night to try and take it! When he confirmed this morning that we still had it, he saw his chance to try and get it again. I’ll bet it was his plan all along to get us way out there on the trail, so he’d be sure to have time.”
“But how did he get in?” Ally questions, looking skeptical. “The other night, I mean. Your uncle would have seen him in the hallway, and there isn’t any other way he could have gone. I suppose today he could have just walked in, although your aunt would have wondered what he was doing.”
“I’m not sure,” Sam confesses, looking slowly around the room.
“How about the cabin, though?” Ally presses. “It would make sense to store some things there, but someone is obviously living in it.”
Tapping her chin, Sam begins to walk along the bedroom wall. “He must be working with someone,” she says, distracted. “It couldn’t have been him in the lake, anyway. He was here working on stuff around the inn all day.”
Suddenly Sam drops to her knees near an old high-backed chair. “I knew it!” she shouts.
“What?” Ally asks, alarmed.
“That first night I heard a scraping sound. I assumed it was the door connecting our rooms, but we know he didn’t come or go that way. Look at this chair,” she instructs.
Ally comes to stand by her side, confused.
“See how far out from the wall it is? Look at the wooden floor. There are scrape marks under the chair, like it’s been pushed back and forth several times.”
