"No way. Out here? Someone is following us?" said Jay. "But we haven't seen anyone trailing our car. And when did they put this here? It must have been when we were on that trail."
"Someone knew we were here," confirmed Jim.
"In the middle of nowhere," said Jay.
"Someone is following us. And I bet I know how," said Adrianna.
"How?" asked Jay and Jim at the same time.
"I was thinking how people could follow us without us being able to see them," she said.
"Ghosts?" said Jay.
"Tracking device," answered Adrianna. "A tracking device that people put under cars and it sends a signal so that they know where you are."
Jay and Jim stared at Adrianna. "You're a genius," said Jay. He got down to look under the front end. He stuck his head in a little further. "There it is!"
Sure enough, there was a strange black box attached to the pipe. He pulled it off. It was about four inches by two inches, with a magnet on one side.
"They said it would be dangerous," offered Adrianna.
"Okay, they don't know exactly where we’re headed. They don't know the riddle. And now they can't follow us anymore," reassured Jay.
"This is true," said Jim. "We should be all right now. I don't see how they can bother us anymore." The O'Neill family got in the car and drove off.
They arrived in Sterling at about three that afternoon. The kids had been sleeping as Jim drove. "Kids, we're here!" he called. "Wake up."
Sterling was a small town. Some skyscrapers scraped the skyline. But mostly, it was full of smaller buildings, and the close city limits gave a view of the farmland beyond.
Jay took it all in. "Looks like Walmart is the main attraction," he said wryly.
"Yeah, just like in Lawrence," added Adrianna.
"Now we have to find Great-Grandpa's homestead," said Jim.
"How do we know the building is still standing?" asked Jay.
"I had heard from Grandpa that it was quite a landmark in the community. The building had been built by a famous Irish builder. It took him two years to get it livable. So, as Grandpa said, it will never be torn down. Probably the most solid house in the town," explained Jim. "Well, let's get over to the library."
"The library?" asked Adrianna. "My favorite place."
"Well, you can look around a little, but we need to get information on where the house is. I never had an address," said Jim.
They went into the red brick library. It had a classic design. Built in 1905, the sign said. But inside, it was a product of government funding reserved for public education, colorful, accessible, and hopefully helpful to the O’Neill’s. Jim went up to the front counter. "Hi, we're from out of town and looking for the O'Neill house. Does that ring a bell?"
The librarian looked at Jim suspiciously. "Why would you want to go there?" she quipped.
"Oh, just nostalgia. My grandfather lived there when he was young. It's still there, right?" Jim asked nervously.
"Yes, the house is still there. I wish it weren't. 256 West Street. It's the well-constructed building. It stands alone on the street. Just drive out of town on this highway out here, about five miles. You'll find it."
"Does anyone live there now?" Jim asked.
"Not presently," she said, and went back to her work. Jim thanked her and they left the way they had come in.
"Not too friendly," said Jim.
"Hey, she's a librarian," said Jay. "She's supposed to be prickly."
"Why doesn't she like the house, Dad?" asked Adrianna.
Jim didn't answer. He remembered the stories of his grandfather's run-ins with the law while he lived here. Maybe the family had a reputation. Perhaps the name O'Neill was tainted in this place. He had been told there were no more O’Neill’s in town. All the sons of the family were only children — Jim's grandfather, his father, and himself.
The drive out of town was short and uneventful. They had some trouble finding West Street, but in the end, there it was. The house was indeed standing alone on the street. Aloof, as if it were happy to hold all its secrets. Or maybe it was a frightened house, terrified to let anyone in. Jim puzzled these thoughts out in his imagination. He found himself regretting not getting to know his grandfather better. Let's see, he was born in 1912, he remembered. He had died in 1994, when Jim was twenty years old. Off at college for two years before that, and never wanting to visit the crotchety old guy, before that, Jim had an almost nonexistent relationship with him. Back in Lawrence, his parents had moved into the house a couple of years before Grandpa had died to take care of him. They stayed there until recently, when they, too, had passed away.
Jim pulled up in front of the house. "Here it is, kids." Everyone got out. Three car door slams, each hesitant, shook the quiet air. Jim went first up the porch steps. He knocked on the door. No answer.
Jay and Adrianna looked in the front window. They cupped their hands around their eyes to see through the glass better. There was a chair and a desk in the living room. The architecture was boxy, solid. They could see a stairway beyond, leading upstairs. Adrianna pulled away. "What about the riddle, Dad? We were supposed to read it in the car."
"You were asleep, and I didn't want to wake you," replied Jim. "Let's look around back. Maybe we can read it there." The backyard was filled with debris — a metal garbage can on its side, a broken wheelbarrow, rolled up chicken wire. Beyond was the far end of some farm field, with no attached house in sight. They were alone.
They sat on the peeling, painted porch. Jim pulled the diary out of his jacket pocket. "Okay, let's begin," he said, looking at the bright and eager faces of his children. He opened the diary. The faded pages were thin and written with pencil. The penmanship was decent, about par for a young man of that era. The entries were mostly terse, but there were some longer passages.
"Here it is." He stopped on a page that was written in ink — not ballpoint pen ink, but ink dipped in an inkwell. It had a nice, soft feel to it. The kids moved in closer. Jim read, “The treasure isn't mine, but I've been asked to save it for him. I'm sure it doesn't really belong to him. Does anything? I'm trying to decide where to hide it so no one can find it. Maybe not even him. Not the gang, I hope. So, I am going to come up with some clues. I like riddles, so maybe it'll be riddles. One will lead to another. Like a clue hunt.' That's all there is," said Jim. The rest of the page was blank.
"No!" wailed Jay. "That's not fair."
"Let's keep looking in here," said Jim.
"Can I look?" asked Adrianna.
"Of course. Go ahead," said Jim.
"It's probably written as a verse," she said. "So, look for lines, like a poem.” She turned to some other pages. “here, look at this: 'Never ending, always catching. Cooper made, sometimes played.”
"That sounds like a riddle. But what in the heck does that mean?" asked Jay.
"Well, it has to be someplace or something on this property...if it's still here," remarked Jim.
They began to look around. "What never ends and always catches? A player in a baseball game?" asked Jay.
"What does that mean — ‘cooper made?" asked Adrianna.
Jay said, "Maybe there's somebody in this diary named Cooper. I bet it's the guy — him! Maybe there was a famous baseball player named Cooper."
"I hope that's not it, because he's definitely not in the yard anymore," said Jim.
"Unless, he's buried in the yard!" said Jay. Adrianna and Jim looked at Jay as if to say, "Yeah, right." As they began to look around the large backyard for ideas, the sky darkened, and a cool breeze blew.
"It's definitely going to rain. I say we get inside," said Jim. "I don't think we'd be trespassing since no one lives here. I don't think anyone even owns it right now." They went to the back door, but it was locked. It started to sprinkle.
Jay had gone over to the other side of the house and reported that the front door was locked as well.
"What about these big doors?" asked Adrianna, pulling on the handl
e of large, slanted double-doors, close to the ground.
"Those are the cellar doors, Adrianna. That's the way people used to get into the basement or cellar," said Jim.
"Well, it's open!" she cried just as it began to pour rain. They lifted the heavy doors and started down the stone steps. Jim spied a flashlight and found that it worked. He shone it on the stairway that led to the first floor.
"It smells musty down here," said Jay.
"It's an old building. It's seen many a rainstorm in its time," answered Jim.
"It's really coming down now!" said Adrianna. "It's pounding on those doors. It sounds like it'll never stop."
"Wait a minute," cried Jay. "Never stop...never-ending. ‘The rain can seem never-ending’...what would catch rain, Dad?"
"Of course, a rain barrel. And barrels are made by coopers," Jim replied.
"Wow, Dad, you're smart!" said Adrianna. "Look for a rain barrel down here, guys." Their search led them to an old barrel.
"Any message left in here would be rotted by now, wouldn't it?" asked Jay.
"It depends how he made the message. Let's take a look," said Jim. They turned the barrel around and, looked on the bottom. Jim shined the flashlight inside. They saw nothing.
Then Adrianna said, "Look, there's some etching on this metal band here on the outside." They shone the flashlight on the band. Adrianna read, “What am I made of?”
"This is cool!" cried Jay. "What is it made of?"
"I'm pretty sure they're always made of oak," said Jim. "I think that big tree outside is an oak. Maybe we can check it out when the rain stops. As long as it's not never-ending, that is."
"Funny, Dad," said Adrianna.
"Let's go explore upstairs!", said Jay. The three O’Neill’s climbed the old, whitewashed stone steps. With the light from the flashlight, they could see the wooden door which led to the first floor. They entered the living room, which looked like it hadn't been lived in for a long time. There was a large fireplace on the north wall made with beautiful cream-colored stonework. The south wall had the stairway to the second story. They were just about to start upstairs when they heard a knock at the front door.
"Don't answer it, Dad," Jay said under his breath. "I don't think they can see us from here. Let's hide. Let's go back in the basement." They moved surreptitiously over to the basement door. From where they stood, Jim could see that there was a man outside. He was wearing a black suit and carrying a black umbrella. He looked straight ahead with a scowl. Maybe it was just the rain coming down on him, but he did not seem happy. At least it's not the police, Jim thought. Then I would need to let them in. They waited by the basement door until the man could be heard going down the front porch steps. They heard a car start up and drive away.
"Who was that?" asked Adrianna.
"A man with a black suit," said Jim.
"Maybe he was the realtor," said Adrianna.
"Very funny," said Jay. "Whoever he was, it must have seemed urgent to him to come out in this rain. It sounds like it's stopping now. Anyway, I'm glad it wasn't a biker."
"It looks like the sun is trying to come out. Should we explore the mighty oak?" asked Jim.
The living room connected to the kitchen. The kids looked in the cupboards for food. There they found, among random snack packages and canned goods, a few mouse traps waiting to be sprung. "Be careful not to set those off!" said Jim. Eager to continue their hunt, they went out through the backdoor. Everything sparkled in the aftermath of the rain. After working together to solve the first riddle, they felt hopeful that they were on the right track.
Now out in the sunshine, the trio ran to the large tree. It was an oak, and a mighty one at that. "This has to be the clue," said Jay. "It's so obvious." They looked around for knotholes and behind some loose bark but saw nothing of interest.
"It's either up in the branches or buried beneath," said Jim. "I don't know if we should be digging. Maybe we can get some ideas from the local residents. What do you say we go into town and get a decent meal at a real restaurant?" asked Jim.
"You mean we don't have to eat vending machine food tonight? Gag! And we're still alive," joked Jay.
They got into town in a matter of minutes. They decided on a Natural-foods restaurant, with smoothies and vegan burgers. There was a calm, woodsy feel to the place. After their meal from the night before, they felt a change was in order. But they all ordered hamburgers and onion rings anyway. During dinner, the talk changed to Great-Grandpa's past. "Why did your grandpa move from Illinois to Kansas, dad?", asked Jay.
"He was connected to a group here in Sterling, the Quants. They had some connection to Chicago in the ‘30s," dad said. "When he was a young man, he wanted to be closer to their headquarters, so he lived in Chicago for a while. He had known of them since he was a teenager in the ‘20s. I think that they were a bad influence on him. "
"So, he was a member of their gang?", asked Jay.
"I don't know how involved he was. Probably just an outsider. Maybe he wanted to get away from them by moving to Kansas," explained Jim.
"I doubt he was trying to get away from the Quants by moving to Kansas," said a voice at the next table. They all turned to see who was speaking. An old man wearing a sweatshirt and a baseball cap was sitting at the table next to them. He smiled broadly as he nodded hello. "The Quants gang began in Kansas and Missouri, you know. Oh, sorry to butt into your conversation, but an old historian like me can't help talking about American history."
"Go ahead. We like history," Jim encouraged. He and the kids moved their chairs and leaned in.
The old man introduced himself as Bud. He continued, "The Quants were the followers of Quantrill. He was a hell raiser from the old Confederate army. He and his gang got into some bad stuff out there in Kansas and Missouri. So, if anyone knew about Quantrill, he might just get better connected in Kansas," said the old man. "The Quants were called the Bushwhackers then. They were pro-slavery. That's how it all started. They would ambush the Union soldiers and Jayhawkers, the enemies of the Bushwhackers. They were on the side of the North. Their fightin' went on for years. A lot of the Old West gunslingers came out of Quantrill's gang, Jesse James and his brother among them. They say that the last of the gang died in 1940. But I've always wondered if there weren't some hold-outs around, still calling themselves Quants. All those old Bushwhackers were shot in the end. Quantrill himself was shot by the Union army at the end of the Civil War."
"Not in the 1930s, though?” questioned Jim. “This guy sounds like he was trouble in the 1800s."
"You don't think those tales of the gunslingers and train robbers of the old west didn't get passed down? Those outlaws like Jesse James, Billy the Kid, and Butch Cassidy became legends. Every kid wanted to be a famous outlaw. Why, Bonnie and Clyde even wrote a poem about how they were like Jesse James. And people say that that Old West gang still exists today. You don't hear much about it. They stay undercover," Bud said.
"What do they do?" asked Jim.
"Troublemakers, mischief makers.” But some say that the Quants are connected to the big men in Chicago. They say these guys do the dirty work for the higher-ups. You know what I mean?"
The O’Neill’s didn't know what to make of the old man's story. Most of it sounded historical, but the stuff about the Civil War gang still being active sounded like a conspiracy theory, and Adrianna didn't even understand what he was talking about in the first place Bud said, "Well, gotta go. You enjoy that food. Best food in town. And be careful about how you talk around here. Little town's got big ears."
"Oh, we keep to ourselves, pretty much. We're pretty careful about flapping our jaws, as they say," said Jim.
"Now, I don't think so. Half the town already knows that you're here and why you're here," said the old man.
Jim was flabbergasted. "What? How?" he blurted out.
"Marion," Bud replied.
"Marion?" Jim asked.
"Our librarian." With that, he doffed his cap and was on his
way.
"Incredible! This is the Twilight Zone," Jim said.
They finished their dinner and got a hotel room for the night. Jim was exhausted. Why was he leading the family on a wild goose chase after some "treasure" that was probably stolen property from a scoundrel of a grandfather who was despised by this entire town? And what am I supposed to do with this oak clue? he asked himself. I should have my head examined. But he had a feeling that this was right, that he was supposed to go. If you ask for guidance from above, you should trust that you've received it. He decided to wait until morning and ask the kids what they thought.
The next morning, everyone slept in. They got the usual free breakfast at the hotel, and the kids went swimming. After they were dried off and ready to go, Jim asked them in the parking lot, "Where do we go, guys?"
"Back to the oak tree, of course," said Jay.
"Where else?" Adrianna asked innocently.
"I'm not sure we're on the right track," said Jim. "We can't just go digging up someone else's yard."
"True," agreed Jay. "But we haven't explored the branches. I'm a good climber."
"All right. If that's where you want to go, I'm game." They reached the old house quickly and walked to the backyard. What they found took their breath away. The ground around the oak tree was riddled with big holes — holes that were obviously made by digging.
"No way!" cried Jay. "Somebody had the same idea we did."
"They couldn't have heard the riddle, could they? Did they just watch us hanging around the tree and assume there was treasure there?” wondered Jim.
"What if they found the treasure already?" cried Adrianna.
"You know what? We don't know if they found it," said Jim. “And this has become a contest. A contest between us and some either very smart or very invisible people. And I want to beat them at this game," he declared. "What if the oak tree is the wrong clue? What if..." he spoke more quietly now as he looked around the area. "What if the ‘oak clue’ is inside the house?"
"Yeah, like something made of oak," Adrianna said quietly.
Treasures of Darkness Box Set Page 2
