Treasure in Catclaw Canyon: The Legend of Sassafras House, #2

By Anita Stafford

Volume 2 of The Legend of Sassafras House series

Kale Flores doesn't understand why his dad left or where he went. Most days Kale loves his dad, but other days he hates him for leaving. It's been six years without a word. The one thing Kale wants most is for his dad to come home. An unexpected knock on the door raises Kale's hopes that his dad will come back. Both Kale's mom and his best friend, Jasmine, are skeptical. Kale wants to prove to them that his dad is not the deadbeat they think he is. It takes a treasure map of Catclaw Canyon to reveal the truth to everyone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laughing Ladybug Press
• Release date: Jul 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393212171

Anita Stafford

Anita Stafford is a writer of middle-grade fiction, picture books, and non-fiction. The Catnapper Mystery is the third book in her Sassafras House series. Other books in the series include The Legend of Sassafras House and Treasure in Catclaw Canyon.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT

My dad left six years ago. He’s absent. He’s gone. He’s nowhere to be found. He hit the road. I’m a kid without a dad, and I want him to come back.

I don’t even remember my parents being married. Their divorce came long before he disappeared. When Dad left, he didn’t leave Mom. He left me. I took it hard.

Don’t let anyone tell you that a kid doesn’t feel pain the way adults do. There’s been an ache in my chest ever since Dad left. A hurting heart is invisible. No one can see it, but the pain is there, deep inside.

Before he drove away and didn’t come back, I spent every Saturday with him. Our Saturdays were special. Dad took me hiking or fishing, or sometimes to the zoo or to the amusement park. He liked to surprise me. All week I looked forward to finding out what fun adventure he had planned.

The other six days of the week I was with Mom. On those days, Mom and I didn’t have adventures, we had routines. We did regular things like going to school or to the dentist.

Saturdays were the same as holidays. Then one day, dad was gone. Every future Saturday might as well have been wiped off the calendar.

On that last Saturday, I got out of his car and waved as he drove away. I expected he’d be back next week, but he wasn’t. When he stood me up the first time, I cried. The next Saturday, when he didn’t show up, I made a dent in the wall where I kicked it. I lost a week of television for that.

After I realized he wasn’t coming back, I’ve spent every Saturday hoping a miracle would happen, and there he’d be, standing at the door. No matter how hard I hoped and wished, no miracle happened.

Weeks turned to months, and months turned to years. I’ve been waiting for him since I was six-years-old. Do the math, and now I’m twelve.

My hope that he’d return started out the size of a mountain, but each week it shrivels up a little more. Now it’s about the size of a speck of dust.

I’ll never forget the last time we were together. He took me to see a domino show. At six, I didn’t know what happened at a domino show. I imagined the dominoes were trained to do tricks. Remember, I was six. I expected some kind of domino circus.

When we arrived at the show, rows of dominoes had been stacked with precision. They stood like armies of soldiers ready to march. It took only a tiny push on the first domino to set everything in motion. When the first domino fell, it caused a chain reaction, and each domino in turn pushed the next domino over. I watched as spirals of dominoes toppled, producing colorful patterns. I remember clapping and being happy. Back then, I didn’t know the word for how I was feeling, but now that I’m older, I know I was mesmerized by the motion of the falling dominoes.

That day now seems as far in the past as something in a history book. My brain tells me that Dad is never coming back, but my heart keeps a tiny bit of hope alive. I only wish someone could answer the two whys. I want to know why he left and why he didn’t come back. I try not to think about it too much, but today my head clouded up with thoughts of him. I blame it on my teacher, Mrs. Bloom, and science.

In the middle of a science lesson, Mrs. Bloom mentioned something called the butterfly effect. I’d never heard of it, but the more she talked, the more I started thinking of dominoes and Dad. She said the butterfly effect is when a small occurrence causes a sequence of events to happen. The example she gave was that a butterfly flapping its wings could set off a chain reaction that ended with a hurricane on the opposite side of the earth. I know it sounds kind of bizarre, but I get it. It makes perfect sense to me.

I remembered how the dominoes fell, one by one. That led me to remembering Dad, and remembering Dad made my head throb. On days like today, it would be great to be a turtle. Then I could pull all four feet, my head, and my tail into my shell and lock everything up tight. I wouldn’t have to see anyone or talk to anyone. I could keep my sadness hidden inside the shell.

Since I’m not a turtle, the next best thing is to hide out in my room for a while. That’s what I planned to do when I got home from school. The universe had other plans.

When I got to my house, I shuffled inside with the weight of a thousand questions on my back, questions only Dad could answer. I peeked into the living room, and I could see Mom had company. I didn’t feel like being sociable, so I attempted to slide through without being noticed. All I wanted to do was to escape to my room with my cat.

Mom must have heard me tiptoeing down the hallway.

Kale, come in here.

Busted. Sighing, my body obeyed by changing direction. I could see the visitor’s profile. Her dark hair hung in hundreds of tiny braids, and her bronze skin glowed with a golden sheen. She turned to face me and smiled.

You must be Kale. She held out her hand. I’m Sage Greene.

I extended a limp hand, and she shook it.

Nice to meet you, I mumbled.

"I’m from The Morning Glory Daily News. I understand you’re an expert on the Sassafras legend. I’d like to interview you."

Of all the names I’ve been called, ‘expert’ is not one of them. I racked my tired brain. Everyone in town already knows about the Sassafras legend. Some of