Charlotte carefully steered the van up the rutted lane and around the clump of old pine trees, pulling to a stop in a small clearing. At first they thought the place had been burned but it was just the dark windows and the weathered wood trim that gave it that appearance.

On the roof it looked like the weather had taken its toll and some of the shingles had slid down and caught in the eaves trough. The brickwork seemed sound from a distance and none of the windows appeared to be broken but John noticed tire tracks near the porch; a single tread that meant someone on a motorcycle had been around.

"Are you going in?"

"Wait here and I'll see if it's open." John tried the front door without luck then moved around the house, checking for an opening, finally appearing on the other side and shaking his head. "It's solid as a rock as far as getting in is concerned." He came back and leaned on the van, digging out the deed paper. "Says here it was registered in Endora. Where's that?"

"That's the next town west of here," Mister Dobbs said.

"Maybe they have a key." John looked at Charlotte hopefully.

*****

It was close to dinnertime when they pulled up in front of the Endora town hall and hurried inside to find the records clerk. Charlotte asked Mister Dobbs to stay with the van while she went with John. Behind a worn wooden counter, scarred with the evidence of years of visitors sat a short, bald little man with the brightest suspenders Charlotte had ever seen.

"Excuse me," John coughed.

"Oh drat," a squeaky voice replied. "I was just gonna close for dinner."

"Sorry about that, I just need a minute I think." He took out the deed and laid it on the counter.

"What have you got?" The little man sighed, picking up the paper and adjusting his glasses. "Oh ho! The Peeble's Place." He grinned up at the couple and set the paper down, smoothing it with a pudgy hand.

"You know it?"

"Know it! It's legend around these parts."

"Why's that?"

"Bin empty for years. Nobody goes there anymore."

"You mean this paper is no good?" Charlotte asked.

"Oh it's good- legal at least- don't know as I'd call it good." He plucked at one of his bright suspenders.

"I don't understand," John said, becoming annoyed.

The man checked a large pocket watch, held it to his ear, sighed and then beckoned them around the counter to a pair of hard, wooden chairs.

He settled himself on his swivel chair and began his explanation. Charlotte and John listened with growing disbelief as they learned of the myth of the Peeble's treasure and of the stories of strange disappearances of people searching for it.

"I don't know anything about any treasure," John said. "All I know is I traded an old truck for this deed."

"You sure you folks aren't treasure huntin'?"

"I told you, I don't know anything about it." John stood and jammed his hands into his pocket. "Are you saying these other people actually got killed?"

"Well nothin' was ever proved directly, but they all sure showed up askin' about the place and then somehow just disappeared mysterious like."

"But how did these people ever hear about a treasure?" Charlotte wanted to know.

"Aah, now that's the good part." The little man hooked fat thumbs in the suspenders and rocked back in his chair. "'Round twelve years ago the property was sold to some anonymous person by the township for the back taxes. All the paperwork was done by mail and it wasn't until the deed was issued that we learned the name of the buyer. According to folks it was never occupied. No utility bills, no nuthin'. Then one day we see a notice in the paper that our buyer went to jail for a big robbery and that the money was never recovered."

"Wait a minute," Charlotte leaned forward. "That little coincidence prompted a bunch of people to come here treasure hunting and when they vanish this town just shrugs?"

"Tol' ja . . . Miss," he glanced at her hand then at John. "Nuthin' could be proved they just didn't take off. But folks around here tend to believe somethin' happened to them at that house."

"So now I'm here but I've got the actual deed to the place."

"Yup." The little man grinned a little too enthusiastically.

"So have you got the key?"

"Oho whoa. There's the matter of the additional taxes and the fines. All has to be paid first."

John sagged and glanced at Charlotte. "How much is it, exactly?"

"This ain't a drive-through, mister. You'll have to come back on Monday, it'll take the rest of today to get all the figures together and I don't work on Sunday."

"Ballpark it," Charlotte said.

The little man rubbed his chin and studied the ceiling. "'Bout thirty-six hundred."

"Aaagh, " John turned in disgust and headed for the door.

"Thank you sir, we'll be in touch." She hurried after John, her mind whirling.

"Be cheaper for ya if you just went out there treasure huntin' instead," the man called after them.

"Bad news?" Dobbs asked as John slumped into the van, slamming the door. A moment later Charlotte climbed in and started the engine. "Anybody going to tell me what happened?"

"There's a little money-"

"A little!" John snorted.

"Alright a lot. There's a lot of money owing for fines and back taxes and until it's paid John can't take possession."

"What about your mom, can't she help somehow? I mean it's a lot bigger and more valuable than your farm." Dobbs said.

"I can't go back again and have nothing to show her but more bills. I already lost us the only transport we had."

The group fell silent and Charlotte concentrated on driving, giving the tiny figure on the motorbike just a cursory glance in her mirror.

*****

The Oak Haven Motel was becoming as confining as the penitentiary had been and Haggard was beginning to wear down. He'd been in the town for over a week since selling the truck and had spent all his time watching for some sign of Garth. He knew that his old partner wouldn't be staying at the house, although he bet that Garth had done a lot of searching over the past few years.

Making his way back from the local convenience store, Haggard saw the boy he'd traded the deed to and smiled widely to himself. The kid was pursuing the deal. He took up a post in a small park across the street and waited to see what would happen. The old man in the van paid him no attention.

A while later the couple emerged, the boy striding toward the van and the young woman chasing him. The boy climbed into the van and slammed the door and the young woman appeared to sag in defeat before getting in behind the wheel. He was about to return to his motel room when he saw a motorcycle pull out of the lane behind the records office. Garth Fesser. Now this was a real stroke of luck. Haggard ducked out of sight and watched Garth follow the van.

Garth trailed the van until he was sure it wasn't going to the house and then peeled off, heading back to town. He slammed a fist on the steering handle, cursing aloud at the constant stream of treasure seekers that seemed to be showing up at the site. He couldn't figure out how these people knew there might be something hidden there.

For five years he had been living in the town of Eldora, working as a clerk in the local hardware store, hiding his real reason for being there. He was tired of waiting to see if they found anything before scaring them off and the ones that wouldn't scare . . . well there was more than treasure buried around the old place now.

He knew that Haggard was due to get out sometime soon and wouldn't wait too long before going for the money and he didn't want the complication of any more interlopers, especially this last lot; somehow they looked too domestic to be treasure seekers. Garth twisted the throttle, gunning the bike and spraying dirt and gravel as he roared off down the highway to his rented apartment. Tonight in the dark out at the house he would resume his vigil for Haggard.

©lyttlejoe 2002