The Treasure Hunters

By Darryl Matter

Christian fiction: Jim Wilson's life was shattered by the death of his beloved Crystal. He and Crystal attended church together, but Jim now wants nothing to do with God. While searching for lost outlaw treasure, Jim rescues a child who's been kidnapped. The child's mother, recently widowed, is attracted to Jim--and he to her. Will she be the most wonderful treasure that Jim has ever found?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Darryl Matter
• Release date: Apr 3, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463890653

Darryl Matter

Hello,I'm an ancient, long-retired college professor who likes to write stories. My educational background is somewhat varied. I first earned a B.S. Degree in Mechanical Engineering with a Management Option. The industrial management and psychology classes interested me in human behavior, and I eventually earned a Ph.D. in Human Development. In addition to writing stories, my interests include reading and stamp collecting.I grew up in a rural Kansas community, and I now live with my wife in a retirement community. I appreciate each of my readers, and I thank you for reading my stories. Furthermore, I encourage each of you to write something of interest to you and then publish it--to share with the world.Being the antique person that I am, the tech-side of publishing doesn't come easily to me and I appreciate the support staff at Smashwords.Again thank you for your interest in my stories.Sincerely,Darryl Matter

Book preview

The Treasure Hunters

Christian Fiction

by Darryl Matter

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2019 by Darryl Matter

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The Treasure Hunters

This is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

CHAPTER 1

Snick! . . . Snick! . . . Snick! . . . Snick!

The rhythmic windshield wipers now were beginning to push frozen pellets from the windshield. What had begun as cold rain was turning to icy sleet as the temperature fell below the freezing mark, making for treacherous travel along the seldom-traveled highway.

Slippery road conditions really didn’t concern Jim Wilson. Neither did the sleet. Or the cold. He was used to being out in all kinds of weather and his four-wheel-drive Chevy pickup, outfitted with high-traction tires, was sure-footed in ice or snow. Sure-footed in any terrain, off-road or highway, for that matter.

Nor did he have anywhere he absolutely had to be at any particular time. He could take his time, move at his own pace, adjust to the weather as it came to him.

In fact, Jim was pleased with the icy weather. It served his purpose well. He had left his remote cabin that morning with the intent of looking over the land that lay to the south and west of his silver mine, land where a treasure almost certainly had been hastily buried by outlaws on the run from the law one day in the winter of 1892.

The outlaw gang had been captured nearby on a cold, wintry day, something like this one–but without the gold and silver they’d stolen only hours before. Somehow they’d managed to stash the treasure before they were captured, probably on the land to the right of the semi-abandoned highway that now cut through Jim’s property. The sheriff who caught the outlaws could not make them talk about the whereabouts of their stolen treasure. He'd had to let them go after only a little jail-time. They were hard men, and the entire gang died in a shootout with law enforcement officers before any of them could return to claim the hidden loot.

Or so the story went. Jim had researched it carefully, and believed it was true. The treasure was out there. Jim's intent was to find it.

The little-traveled highway Jim now was driving followed what once was the trail on which the outlaws attempted to elude the posse. To drive this highway, then, was to approximate the escape route they’d taken back in 1892.

Several weeks ago, Jim had purposely imagined himself on the trail taken by the outlaws. He’d waited until he could duplicate the gang’s travels under the same weather conditions as they'd had back then. Today, he’d be able to consider just where he himself might conceal or bury such a treasure if he had been on the run from a sheriff’s posse under similar winter conditions.

As he drove, Jim began to visually search for landmarks that he would use if he were hurriedly stashing treasure, landmarks that would be reference points so that he could find that treasure again when there were no lawmen in hot pursuit. Once he identified the potential landmarks and the treasure site, Jim would come back in better weather and search for the cache with his metal detector. He had successfully located buried treasure before. He could do it again. Jim had an eye for concealed or buried treasure.

Jim drove slowly now, his eyes intently searching the area. Three large outcroppings of rock there to the east might have served as landmarks. So might the depression in the hillside off to the west. And over there–-

WOOF! Ben, the big white dog riding beside Jim on the pickup seat scrambled to his feet and barked loudly as he spotted something of definite interest to him through the windshield. WOOF! The dog now pressed his face against the side window, intent on something Jim hadn’t yet noticed, then impatiently looked back over his shoulder at Jim and barked insistently. WOOF! WOOF! WOOF! The dog’s intent was clear: STOP! STOP NOW!

Jim slowed the Chevy, his intense blue eyes now scanning the side of the road where Ben seemed to be focused. He’d trained the big dog to be vigilant–and he trusted the animal’s judgment.

There was something unusual there in the ditch, all right. At first it looked to Jim like a big rag doll. Red hair. Pudgy pink arms and legs sticking out of a dress or child’s outfit of some sort. Bare feet. No! It wasn’t a doll. No way! It had to be a very small child, a little girl, to judge from the curly red hair! With hardly any clothes! She’d freeze to death in short order in weather like this. Maybe she already had.

Wait. Wait a minute, Jim. Think before you act. Jim’s well-honed survival instincts took over. What was this, anyway? A trap? Jim knew full well that thugs sometimes preyed on travelers along seldom-traveled roads in this kind of weather. Stop to help someone and you just might be robbed–or worse. Although few people knew that Jim had money, it was best that he be wary.

WOOF! WOOF! WOOF! LET’S GO! LET'S GO! The big dog was insistent.

Okay, Ben. Jim stopped the pickup, then backed up and off onto the shoulder near to where the child was face-down in the ditch. He looked carefully around the area, squinting through the sleet that was falling even harder now, but didn’t see anyone. Nevertheless, he’d be cautious. Visibility wasn’t all that good, and there were places along the highway where a thug--or a gang of thugs--could hide. As a precaution, Jim slipped the .45 Colt pistol lying on the seat beside him into his jacket pocket as he opened the door. He knew how to defend himself.

WOOF! WOOF! As soon as Jim opened the door, Ben bounded out of the Chevy, sprinted around the front, toenails digging for traction into the patches of accumulated ice as he ran, and then scooted directly down the side of the ditch to where the child lay. Jim jammed his hat down on his head and followed, more cautious than the dog on the slippery grass, keeping an eye out for hoodlums, his hand on the Colt in his pocket.

It was a child, all right, a little girl with red hair, red hair that now was matted with the freezing rain. She was wearing only a thin, short-sleeved, cotton dress, and her clothing, soaked completely through from the rain, was clinging to her tiny body. In fact, ice had begun to accumulate in the grass around the girl, and Jim thought for a moment that she must be dead. But then, when Ben licked her face and nudged her with his nose, Jim saw the tiny figure move ever so slightly. She was alive!

WOOF! . . . WOOF! Ben looked up at Jim and back at the child as he barked as if to say, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? HURRY UP!

Jim had never picked up or even held a small child. He’d always liked children, of course, but after Crystal, his one and only girlfriend, had died in that fire some ten years ago, he’d given up hope of ever having children around. Indeed, he’d retreated from most of the world after that horrible accident, retreated to the safety of his remote cabin and his silver mine and his precious few memories.

WOOF! WOOF!

There was a blanket in the pickup. Lifting the tiny figure as gently as possible from the icy ditch, Jim carried her to the pickup where he dried her as best he could, then wrapped her in that blanket, and placed her on the seat bdside him. It’ll be okay, honey, he whispered to the little girl. He didn’t know what else to say, and he wasn’t sure if the child could hear him or not, but it was the best he could manage. It’ll be okay, honey, he repeated.

She’d been so cold, he could only hope she’d really be okay. And he couldn’t ignore the little girl’s pale, near-blue, cold skin–the sure signs of frostbite.

The little girl’s skin felt hard to his touch. Yes, there would be frostbite. A year spent in the Arctic had taught Jim about frostbite. He could only hope it wasn’t second or third degree frostbite.

As he climbed back into the driver’s seat, Jim saw that Ben had snuggled close to the little girl, warming her with his own body heat. When he looked again a few moments later, the little girl’s right hand was out of the blanket and wrapped around Ben’s front paw. Yeah, she’d make it. He'd take her to the hospital--and she'd make it.

What next? He’d better alert someone at the hospital that he was bringing the little girl. The emergency room number was programmed into his cell phone, and he dialed that number. They knew him at the hospital. Knew who he was, anyway. They’d be expecting him.

If the little girl did have serious frostbite, they could get her on antibiotics right away. They could check for hypothermia, too. And whatever else might be wrong. Poor little kid.

Who else should he call? Oh, yes! John Murphy, the detective who worked with missing children. The one who’d been so kind to him over the years after Crystal’s death. He’d alert him, too. Yes. Moments later, Jim had called and arranged for John to meet them at the hospital.

Jim drove as fast as he dared on the icy highway.

A nurse took the little red-haired girl the minute Jim pulled his pickup into the emergency-admissions ambulance shelter. As he watched the nurse carry the child down the hallway toward the main part of the hospital, he saw John Murphy hurriedly step into the hall through a side door.

The detective was escorting a young woman, his hand on her arm. Despite the fact that she was wearing a heavy coat and scarf against the winter weather, Jim saw that she had red hair, similar to the child’s. Then, as the woman saw the child in the nurse’s arms, she suddenly rushed forward as if to hug the child and the nurse together. Alycia! My baby! Oh, thank you! Thank you, Jesus! she blurted out, tears streaming down her face as she did so. Well, well! John Murphy must already have located the child’s mother.

As the people with the child disappeared down the hallway, through yet another door, and into the main part of the hospital, Jim eased his Chevy pickup out of the ambulance shelter. Without saying another word to anyone, he quietly headed home. He had 30 miles to drive over that icy highway before he’d reach his cabin, so he’d better get started, and they obviously didn’t need him at the hospital any more. The detective might want to talk with him about where he’d found the child. If he did, he knew where to find him. Same place he’d found him before.

* * * * *

It was later that night when Jim and Ben settled down together on the cabin floor in front of the fireplace. Jim had a handful of beef-flavored treats that Ben especially liked, and the dog eagerly ate them out of his hand. Good job, Ben, he said over and over, as he stroked the dog’s rough white fur, and then added, affectionately, You did a good deed this afternoon, big fellow. Ben snuggled close, enjoying the companionship.

From across the room, Crystal smiled her impish little grin at him from her photograph. She was not the prettiest girl Jim had ever known. In fact, the red-haired woman with John Murphy at the hospital was more beautiful than Crystal, more beautiful than most women Jim had ever known, or would ever know, for that matter. Still, Crystal had loved him and he’d loved her, freckles and crooked teeth and all. With her round face and long brown hair she’d been beautiful in his eyes–and that was what counted.

The memories of his good times spent with Crystal swirled up in Jim’s mind. Like the time he’d braided her hair into a pigtail and she’d giggled and thought it was cute. He even remembered the silky feel of her beautiful hair. And then she’d kissed him. Jim was in Heaven!

Stop it! Now! It wasn’t good for him to dwell on those memories because they always were followed by the painful realization of what had happened. He knew that, and quickly turned his attention back to Ben. Without a doubt, Crystal's memory and Ben were his best friends.

Crystal’s picture, taken only a week before that tragic fire, was a little faded, but it was all he had to remember her by. It and the harmonica she loved to play. Try as he might to put thoughts of Crystal from his mind, he couldn’t. She’d have been proud of both of us for what we did today, Jim told Ben, and the big white dog nuzzled his hand as if to say, Yes, indeed, Jim! She would have been proud of us.

The phone call Jim had been expecting came as he was getting ready for bed later that night. I’d like to come out and talk to you, John Murphy said. How about first thing tomorrow morning, say around nine o’clock? Unless the weather gets much worse. If that's the case, I'll call you.

I’ll be here, Jim replied, and I’ll have coffee waiting. After checking once again to make sure his Colt was in its usual place under his pillow and his security system was activated and functioning properly, Jim settled down for the night. Ben settled down as well, on the floor beside his bed. Then, just as he was drifting off to sleep, a stray thought kept running through his mind: That woman, the little girl’s mother, was absolutely beautiful!

CHAPTER 2

The pretty, red-haired woman who’d been with John Murphy at the hospital was standing at the door along with the detective when Jim answered their knock the following morning. John introduced her as Jenelli Paterson, and Jim invited them inside.

Paterson? Jenelli Paterson? Her name was vaguely familiar. Sure. Now he had it. Her name had been in the news recently because her husband, Tony, a prominent banker in the community, had met with a fatal automobile accident.

Once inside the cabin, Jenelli grabbed Jim’s hands in her’s. Mr. Wilson, she began, struggling to hold back tears as she spoke, I’ve . . . I’ve thanked God all night long for sending you to rescue Alycia! You . . . You have been the answer to my . . . to my prayers! I . . . I . . . prayed that someone would . . . that someone would . . . . She began to sob as her words of thanks tumbled out. I’m so sorry, I’m . . . . She tugged a tissue from her purse and dabbed at her eyes for a moment, then looked up at him. I’m so sorry . . . I . . . I didn’t get a chance to . . . to thank you yesterday . . . and . . . and I wanted to thank you . . . from the bottom of my heart . . . for . . . saving my . . . my . . . my little girl. She wiped more tears from her eyes.

Jim looked down at her and smiled reassuringly. You’re welcome, Mrs. Paterson. I’m glad that Ben and I came along that highway when we did. You see, he’s the one who spotted her first.

Ben? Who’s . . . Who’s Ben? Surprise was evident in Jenelli's voice.

My dog. Jim slapped his leg and called, Ben. Come here, boy. The big dog who had been lying near the door to the kitchen and intently watching the visitors got up and trotted over to where the three were standing.

Jenelli stooped down and patted Ben, then looked up at Jim, her big green eyes glistening. He . . . He was guided by an angel, then, just like you were, Mr. Wilson. I’m absolutely sure of it. Oh, my! He’s . . . He’s beautiful! May I pet him?

Sure, he likes to be petted, but I’d be happier if you called me ‘Jim.’ Turning to the dog, he said, softly, Sit, Ben. Everything's okay.

Jenelli knelt, stroked the big dog’s head for several moments, hugged the dog, then looked up at Jim. Okay. I’ll call you ‘Jim’ if you’ll call me ‘Jenelli.’ He nodded, and the woman continued, I was so relieved to get Alycia back. She sighed. You see, after . . . after Tony’s death . . . well, I . . . I . . . . She blinked back tears. I . . . I just couldn’t have . . . have stood another . . . another awful, awful heartache.

I understand about heartaches, Jim replied softly, not knowing for sure what else there was to say, and I’m really glad that we found Alycia when we did. Is she going to be all right?

Yes. Jenelli’s eyes brightened. The doctors tell me she’ll be fine. She’s going to be in the hospital for a few days because of the frostbite and hypothermia. It . . . It was just awful what that little child went through. The doctors say that another hour or so out in that awful weather, and . . . . Jenelli wiped her eyes and cleared her throat. Well, we’re just fortunate that you and Ben came along when you did. Like I said, I think both of you were really guided by God’s angels. You being in that place when you were was an answer to my prayers.

Jim nodded his understanding of what Jenelli was saying, then suddenly realized they all still were standing just inside the door. Sorry. I’m afraid I’m not being a very good host, he said, apologetically. Here, Jenelli. Let me take your coat. I’ve got coffee on. He motioned toward the table, noting that John already had tossed his coat on a chair. Once the three were seated at the table with mugs of coffee, Jim turned to the detective. You said you wanted to talk to me, John. Want to tell me what’s been going on?

Jenelli’s sparkling green eyes flitted between Jim and John, then darted around the cabin. Jim had always lived simply, so there wasn’t much for her to see beyond the small kitchen table. His oversized recliner sat in the living room along with his huge roll-top desk, his computer, and two other comfortable chairs. Sturdy shelves filled with books, some of which appeared to be quite old, lined one entire wall.

Three small video monitors, similar to those she'd seen in one of the back rooms in her husband Tony's bank, sat on a shelf against one wall; screens on those monitors provided views of the area around Jim's cabin. Little green lights flickered across the bottom of those monitors. There were some other electronic devices near them that she didn't recognize.

There wasn’t a television set to be seen. That puzzled Jenelli because her husband had watched television constantly, day and night, when he was home. Not seeing a television set, Jenelli momentarily wondered what Jim might do for entertainment besides reading. And, how did he keep up on the news without a television set?

That door to the right must lead outside, Jenelli reasoned. The first inside door to the left must lead to a bathroom, the second to a bedroom, but what about that third door. It appeared to be secured with a padlock. What could be behind that door?

Just as Jenelli was about to return her full attention to the two men, something unusual caught her eye. An odd-shaped rock nearly as wide as her hand sat on Jim’s desk. She’d never seen another one exactly like it. Was it something valuable? And why would Jim keep something like that on his desk?

And then she turned her full attention to the men, her eyes darting between them. Wow! These were the kind of men Jenelli had to admit she hadn’t encountered in a long, long time–if ever!

Jim struck Jenelli as amazingly handsome, exhibiting the rugged good looks of a man who’d spent much time outdoors, muscular and hard bodied. John, though a little older and exhibiting graying hair and the wrinkles associated with aging, likewise possessed the robust physique of a man whose conditioning was a result of activity and not the exercise in a gym that was so fashionable these days. Tony, by comparison, she realized with a start, had been pale, almost sickly, in appearance, and he'd worked out in two or three fitness centers. At least, he'd said he did.

What appealed to Jenelli even more than their rugged physical appearances, however, was the fact that both Jim and John appeared to possess an inner toughness and character that she’d never found in her late husband or his closest friends. Most likely, she reasoned, Jim didn’t need a television set because he didn’t spend much time sitting around indoors. He probably didn't need the kind of entertainment a television set could provide. And there were no liquor bottles sitting around either. She’d always abhorred Tony’s heavy drinking, and the bottles he'd left sitting all over the place.

Although Jenelli wouldn’t have admitted it aloud to anyone, and found it hard to admit even to herself, there was something she really admired in Jim Wilson. This was a man she’d like to get to know–if he’d ever even consider having anything to do with a woman like her. If he associated her with Tony’s notoriously decadent lifestyle, a lifestyle that had been splashed all over the television screen and newspapers since the accident, Jim probably wouldn’t want her around.

But she wasn't like Tony in that regard. No. She'd not wanted to be associated with Tony's parties and such. Still, people would associate her with Tony's lifestyle, like it or not. She had to accept that fact.

Before Jenelli could concentrate more intently on Jim, however, she found herself focusing on John as he replied to Jim’s question.

The detective didn’t waste words with chitchat. Alycia was kidnapped two days ago, he began.

Kidnapped, eh? Jim questioned.

Yes. We kept it out of the news because the kidnappers demanded ransom and said they’d kill the child if any missing-child alerts or statements about the kidnapping were on the news. They said they’d call Jenelli at home to arrange for the return of the child, and we had her phone tapped, but they never did call. Then yesterday you called and said you’d found a child, and the description you gave me matched Alycia’s. I picked up Jenelli and we went to the hospital to see if it really was Alycia–and it was.

Any ideas as to who was behind the kidnapping? Jim questioned.

We don’t know, but we suspect it was a man who worked with Jenelli’s late husband, Tony. In fact, he was a suspect in a child kidnapping-for-ransom case a few years ago, but that case never was solved.

A disgruntled employee? Or a former employee?

The detective shook his head. Maybe, but I don’t think so. We’ve looked intently at the people who have worked for Tony over the years and didn’t find a likely suspect. Actually, we don’t yet have a motive, other than ransom money. The kidnapper was demanding half a million dollars.

Jim watched John carefully. This man was a first-class detective, but his body-language suggested that he wasn’t at ease just then. Maybe he was holding something back. Maybe he was trying to shield Jenelli from some unpleasantness. At any rate, there seemed to be something he wasn’t saying. I see, Jim responded. Is there any way I can help you?

I’d like for you to show me where you found Alycia, the detective replied. You’re awfully good at tracking, and maybe we can look around along the road, back from where you found her. She probably was pushed out of a car and then, to judge by the condition of her hands and feet, tried to walk or crawl along the road toward town. We might be able to spot the place where the kidnapper put her out. It’s thin, I know, but we have to check out everything. You know that.