Cheerio and the Caves of Gold
By Angela C Blackmoore
Copyright 2017 by Angela C Blackmoore, All Rights Reserved
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real persons, events, or places are purely coincidental. All rights reserved.
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Table of Contents
Cheerio and the Caves of Gold
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Authors Notes
Chapter 1
Cheerio watched the squirrel as it made its way down one of the tall pine trees that ringed the clearing. He was laying in one of the few areas of grass that sprouted in lucky places where the sun was able to fight through the canopy. Despite the ideal conditions for growing things up in the Pacific Northwest, the trees were jealous gatekeepers of their golden bounty.
Still, Cheerio didn’t much care, or know, about that. All he knew was that this patch of grass had become his favorite in the past few weeks. It was very close to the stairs that led up to the large, spacious porch. It allowed him to keep an eye on Hazel Morgan as she stitched an endless stream of thread into an embroidery hoop. It also allowed him to see Mr. Wilberson, the old handyman who was soon going to be marrying Hazel as he puttered endlessly out in the old garage.
Both of them had become two of his favorite humans in the past few weeks. Abby was still his most favorite, of course, but the people that had gathered around them had also become family to him. Cheerio was happy. At least, for the most part.
He glanced down at the blue cast that was still on his front forepaw and sniffed at it before looking up once again at the squirrel. The treacherous, bouncy demon was now on the ground and flitting from place to place. Occasionally it would stop and dig up something, or bury it in some obscure ritual that Cheerio didn’t understand. He wanted desperately to chase it but knew that his paw was still not ready for him to race after the little bandit.
He’d tried. But it had hurt too much after the first few steps, and he had to stop. He didn’t know how many times he’d tried, but the squirrels had learned of his weakness and would bounce deliciously closer every day. Cheerio had decided to ignore their teasing and had stopped chasing, hoping they would become over-confident. His paw felt stronger all the time. If he could just lull them into a false sense of security, maybe he could latch his teeth onto one of their fluffy oh-so-tempting tails.
Despite himself, he woofed and startled a few of them into dancing further away. The image of him flipping one of them into the air, and then leaping to catch it again before it fell made him so excited it was hard to control himself.
“Don’t you worry, Cheerio,” Hazel said, looking up from her needlepoint. “The vet told me you were healing well and would be up and running by next week. Those squirrels aren’t going anywhere.”
Cheerio looked back at Hazel and wuffled at her. He didn’t know what she’d said, but he could tell it was something caring and affectionate. It was important to him that he return the sentiment.
Cheerio went back to staring at the squirrel, putting his head down on his paws as he tried to act nonchalant. It wasn’t working, but it was worth a shot.
Still, something was unusual about the day. Hazel seemed distracted, despite her focus on her needlepoint. Usually, she was absorbed in the activity, but today she kept stopping and looking off toward the bridge to the island as if expecting something.
Cheerio decided he’d be extra wary today. Despite his injury, he would do whatever he could to defend their home if it required it. With everyone away, he knew it was up to him to take care of things until Abby got back. Or Mr. Wilberson. Despite his age, the old man was still watchful and protective of everyone on the island and Cheerio wanted to make him proud.
Abby, Gabe, and Becky had all left very early that morning. Shortly after that, Mr. Wilberson had climbed into his old, smelly truck and left as well. Cheerio watched as they’d all left but knew they had good reasons for whatever they were doing. They always seemed to, but Cheerio liked it much better when they’d take him with them. However, sometimes they did, and sometimes they didn’t.
He’d been sitting on his spot of grass for a while, alone with Hazel, when she finally breathed a deep sigh and Cheerio felt her energy change. She took off the comforter she’d placed over her legs, then put that and the needlepoint down on a small table before standing.
“Come on, Cheerio. Come keep an old woman company, would you?” Hazel said, then turned toward the front door. Cheerio stood immediately and began climbing the stairs. Thank goodness, that no longer hurt, so he mounted them fairly quickly and moved inside before Hazel closed the door behind them both.
Unsurprisingly, she walked into the kitchen where she spent a large part of her time. Cheerio loved to be in there with her because the smells and sights were always interesting. Hazel was always busy when she was in the kitchen, and it was even better when she opened the magical door where all the food was stored. Hazel had said pantry many times when she was around it, and he was beginning to recognize the word.
Cheerio waffled and sniffed at the door before backing up when Hazel reached for the handle, then moved inside. Turning on the light, she began to move things around and out of the way. Cheerio was surprised when she huffed and grunted at moving several of the barrels at the back of the room and then pushed them into the kitchen. It took several minutes to clear the area below the shelves, leaving a strange emptiness in its wake.
There seemed to be strange smells coming through the cracks in the wood. They were faint, but Cheerio sniffed and clawed softly at the floorboards before Hazel shooed him back and reached under one of the shelves. She seemed to be fiddling with something before he heard several clicks, then to Cheerio’s surprise, the entire wall and shelves swung back and away from them.
This was new! The odd musty smells became slightly stronger as he and Hazel moved forward into the tiny alcove. There were a few shelves holding some small, leathery bags. One was low enough for Cheerio to push with his nose, and when he did so, it clinked softly as it shifted. There was a metallic smell to it as well, but it wasn’t one he remembered being very common around Abby.
Hazel ruffled his ears and pulled him back to one end of the room. “Not those, Cheerio. They are red herrings for anyone that might find this place.” Hazel pushed against a board with her shoe and Cheerio once again heard a click, then she pushed toward the top of the same board, and several more clicks happened before a faint, thudding squeal came from underneath the floorboards.
The floor to their left was dropping away! Cheerio yipped in surprise, happy that Hazel had moved him from where he’d been standing. He wouldn’t have even guessed that as the boards lowered, they now formed steps into the darkness. With a click, Hazel flicked on a flashlight, and both of them began to descend slowly into the darkness.
Chapter 2
The first five stairs were solid, well-crafted hardwood. At the bottom, Hazel pushed an old button in the wall causing several old electric light bulbs to flare to life, illuminating the pathway down. Cheerio was glad for the light, even though he didn’t smell anything threatening below. Before them, the stairs resolved into wide, rock platforms w
hich were easier to walk down for both the dog and the old woman. Hazel also had the added benefit of a long handrail secured to wooden wall braces which graced the walls every ten feet.
Each time Hazel passed one of the support beams, she would caress one of the stainless steel plaques set into the wood just below one of the light bulbs. Cheerio barely noticed them, but Hazel would look at each of the pieces of metal and mouth the words that were engraved on them as she passed.
Family. Love. Compassion. Loyalty. These were the words that she mumbled. The plaques were old, though not as old as the house itself. Hazel knew the brass had been replaced with stainless steel many decades ago. She was glad of it and suspected her ancestors had grown tired of polishing them when they had tarnished and turned green. Even with the stainless steel, she had to tend to the plaques every few years or so, but it had to have been worlds better than the brass.
Finally the stairs ended at a hallway that took a sharp turn to the left. There was a strange contraption on the wall to the right. A small, flat piece of metal stuck out from the wall connected to some gears and an old motor. Hazel ignored it, but Cheerio paused, sniffing at the iron and oil smell before following Hazel.
Ten feet beyond the turn stood a large door that looked as solid as a mountain. It too smelled of oil, and Cheerio stood patiently as Hazel pulled out an old key and slid it into a hole before turning it. There was a loud thunk sound just before Hazel grasped a large, thick handle and pulled with all her weight. The door itself squealed a little, startling Cheerio but swung open slowly at the old woman’s effort.
Beyond was a room that was fairly nondescript except for a sturdy wooden table, a chair, and a small, high cart with wheels. Four electric lights, one of which was burned out, illuminated four large chests which stood against the walls. Three of them looked like they had been undisturbed for many years, covered in dust and even some cobwebs. The fourth had the telltale traces of fingers moving through some of the dust and it was toward this one that Hazel made her way.
Once again pulling out the key ring she’d used on the door, she placed a key into the lock, turned, and gently opened up the heavy lid. As it opened, Cheerio moved forward to inspect what the old woman was doing while she retrieve the small cart. Within was a metal smell, though different than the iron that permeated the air. It was cleaner and had no traces of the rust that haunted most metal that Cheerio had experienced but was similar to whatever had been in the small leather bag upstairs in the nook.
Though he did not know it, the chest was full of gold. Reflecting the light from the bulbs in the room, it glittered and shone brightly marred by not even the smallest bit of tarnish or dust. Hazel returned with the cart and placed it next to the chest.
Sighing, Hazel looked at Cheerio and caressed his head as he sniffed inside. “Oh, Cheerio,” she said,” I wish you could pull these things out for me. They are not light and grow heavier each year. Thank goodness Kat melted them down and made them smaller. I dear say, I wouldn’t be able to pull them out at all these days, otherwise.”
Swiping her hands together, she gathered herself and reached down about halfway into the chest and grunted as she began to pull one of the small gold bars out. She did manage, though Cheerio could see the slight waiver of her old muscles. Placing it on the cart, she returned to the chest three more times before sighing and closing the lid and with a turn of the key, relocked it.
After she had straightened up, she paused to look at the room and sighed, thinking deep thoughts. Cheerio waffled and nosed her hand as she stood, feeling a sense of melancholy from Hazel as she glanced around the room. Sometimes his nuzzling worked to pull Abby out of her sadness, though thankfully those episodes had become scarcer in the past few months.
In this case, it worked, and Hazel turned her warm smile on her furry friend before once again ruffling his fur. Cheerio closed his eyes and tilted his head as he felt Hazel's fingernails find those wonderful spots behind his ear.
“I know, Cheerio,” Hazel said affectionately. “Every time I come down here, I wonder if it will be my last time. I’m getting too old for these stairs and this musty chamber.” She stopped and began wheeling the cart out of the room and toward the stairs. Once there, she placed the gold bars on the small, metal plate. It dipped slightly but held the weight until Hazel pushed a button on the side of the motor, making it whirl to life. Slowly, the platform began moving upwards along the stairwell, carrying the gold bars with it.
Returning once more to the chamber, she pushed the cart back to the place it had held in the dust and closed the thick, iron door. Then she and Cheerio began making the journey back up, following the gold. Hazel had to stop several times, taking deep breaths, but eventually, they made it once more up the wooden stairs. The small, metal platform had stopped below them, which made Hazel have to carry the gold bars up into the house herself.
Once again, Cheerio was concerned for the old woman who had to pause often, but slowly but surely she placed the gold bars on the kitchen table and then proceeded to make some tea as she rested, watching the open doorway to the pantry as she sipped from the porcelain cup.
Finally, she took a deep breath as if having decided something. Cheerio was sitting at her feet, resting his head on his paws when she began to speak. Cheerio dutifully listened, though he didn’t understand what she was saying. It was enough for him just to be near and hear her voice.
“I think I need to do it, Cheerio,” Hazel said softly, almost as if talking to herself. “You’ll be there to help her, and it's past time I had someone to help me carry this burden. Abby is smart. She will be able to handle both the gold and the secret. Someone needs to help me make sure our family stays safe.”
Hazel shook her head before standing and began the arduous task of moving all of the food stuff back into the pantry. She wouldn’t miss this either, at least not having to do it all the time.
After she had closed the pantry door, she covered up the gold bars with a hand towel. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d pulled so much out, but with the senator nosing around again, Hazel knew she’d need the resources. This dinner in Salem that they had been invited to had her worried. She knew she would have to ask Mr. Carrington for more than just converting the gold, but her family had worked with the Morgans for almost a hundred years and they were usually more than happy to help.
Chapter 3
“Who are you?” Hazel asked, looking at the young, red-haired man who was standing on her porch. He was dressed in a black, wool coat over a well-made business suit as he gazed at her through his glasses.
He seemed nonplussed by her question, dipping his head and smiling at her calmly before answering. “My name is Mr. Carrington, or Robert if you prefer. There’s a numeral in there as well, but I hate saying it since it sounds pretentious. Did my father forget to tell you that I would be coming in his stead?”
Hazel blinked and narrowed her eyes as she took the man in. He did look like Bob Carrington, though the elder’s hair had gone white many years ago. Still, he’d had red hair as well, and just about the same hue as Roberts. However, her families’ wealth and secrets were far too important to take any chances.
“Can you wait out here, Mr. Carrington? I’m afraid your father didn’t tell me about a replacement, or at least I don’t remember him mentioning it. You’ll understand if I call him?”
The man nodded as Hazel closed the screen door, watching as Cheerio placed himself on the other side and watched the man quietly. Cheerio wasn’t certain what to make of him. He seemed friendly enough if a bit reserved, but Hazel had reacted to him in a way that had alarmed Cheerio’s senses.
Still, when the man held his hand out to the screen door, Cheerio leaned forward and sniffed it. He didn’t feel like he needed to drive the man off yet, but Cheerio kept himself on mild alert even as he leaned down and began nibbling at that annoying little itch on his hindquarters.
He could hear Hazel in the background speaking to someone tho
ugh there was no one else in the house. He was sure that no one was there, but he’d grown used to his people sometimes talking without meaning. It was just something they did, but as he listened to the tone of her voice, it became more relaxed, so that was a good thing.
Before Cheerio had finished chewing, Hazel had come back to the door and smiled at Robert. “Mr. Carrington? Your father had put something into the letter he’d sent me, but I must have missed it,” she said. “However, I’m sure you’ll understand if I ask you a question? I’m sorry if it sounds a bit odd, but I have to be sure.”
“Of course, Mrs. Morgan. I understand. Father introduced me to your case several months ago and suggested it was one of the more sensitive matters we handle. Ask away.”
Hazel nodded. “Your father mentioned you went to a camp when you were thirteen. Can you tell me what you carved for him in the wood class?”
Robert blinked and then laughed with good nature. “That would have been hard because I happened to have been grounded for that entire summer. My friend, Johnny Redensky and I managed to set fire to the fields behind our housing area. We thought it would be fun to light matches and stick them into grasshopper’s mouths. It wasn’t so much fun when the firemen came.” Robert shrugged. “I didn’t enjoy sitting for a week, let me tell you.”
Hazel chuckled as she opened the screen door and held it for the man to enter. “That is what your father said. Please come in out of the wind, Mr. Carrington. Would you like some tea or coffee? I have some apple cider as well if you would prefer?”
“Cider sounds perfect,” Robert said as he stepped in. Cheerio had relaxed, but he still stepped up to the man and sniffed him cautiously. Robert held his hand out, not moving it until Cheerio had finished inspecting him. Then he happily petted the dog before following Hazel deeper into the old house.
Robert looked around, admiring the craftsmanship around him. The wood almost glowed, and he couldn’t help but run his hands along the banister of the stairs that rose to the second floor as he passed. “You have a lovely home, Mrs. Morgan. Is this workmanship turn of the century? I think I remember seeing in the file that the house is a hundred years old?”
Cheerio and the Caves of Gold (A Red Pine Falls Cozy Short Story) (Red Pine Falls Companion Stories Book 1) Page 1
