Above the Bridge (8 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

Jake paced back and forth across the town square, frustrated and angry.  How stupid could he be, believing Frank the way he had? He was as much of a liar as his grandfather probably was, raising him on all those ridiculous stories of buried treasure.   His grandfather had pulled the wool over his eyes and now so had Frank.  He should have seen it before, but that only made him as stupid as the others.

Pausing to lean against the monument in the center of the square, he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, tapped it against his hand, pulled one out and pressed it between his lips.  With his right hand he patted his chest and then his hips before finding a book of matches, somewhat torn and wrinkled from being carried around in his pocket, but useful nonetheless.  He coughed a little on the first puff, just a reminder that he had quit smoking years ago.  But extreme times called for extreme measures.  He was just about at the end of his rope.

Jake shifted his weight from one hip to the other, then leaned back casually again.  It wouldn’t help to appear nervous, he thought.  It was a good thing he calmed down and settled back, because when Frank came walking up, he wasn’t in any kind of a calm mood himself.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, calling me out here like some little servant?”  Frank was fuming and he wasn’t about to hide it.

“I need more information from you,” Jake stated calmly, looking Frank directly in the eye.

“I already gave you everything I have,” Frank insisted, though the look in his eyes told Jake otherwise.

“Listen up, now,” Jake said, the calm tone in his voice and manner starting to quickly slip away.  “I didn’t spend all this time, all these years and all of this last particular year getting to this point, only to have it all ruined by you.”  He pointed his finger at Frank for emphasis, then dropped it and looked around to make sure they weren’t attracting attention by causing a scene.

Jake lowered his voice and moved his face closer to Frank’s.  Even without words, the communication was clear.  Frank now shifted his weight back and forth, considering the unspoken statements.

“I want the rest of the information now,” Jake said slowly.  “Don’t even try to tell me that paper is everything you have.  I know better.  For one thing, the tear on the side of the paper hardly looks a hundred years old.  And the smudge doesn’t look that old, either, now that I think about it.”  Jake ran an image of the small map through his mind.

A woman walked by, accompanied by a small terrier on a leash and a young girl, who she pulled in closer to her as she passed the two men.  Frank and Jake waited until they were alone again before continuing.

“OK,” Frank said carefully, keeping an eye on Jake while he spoke.  “I might have something else for you, but…” His voice trailed off and he looked at Jake inquisitively.

Jake threw back his head and laughed, then brought his gaze directly into Frank’s eyes.  “Don’t even think about blackmailing me for any more money.  You’ve gotten all that you were promised.  Now it’s your turn to hold up your end of the deal.”  His eyes didn’t waver until Frank started to nod his head.

Frank looked around nervously; making sure no one else was approaching.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” he said, lowering his voice as a precaution.  “We’re not going to meet in this place again.  Too many times will look suspicious.  For all we know, someone could have already seen us and wondered what was going on.”  Frank paused and looked around again, then stopped with his gaze on Cache Street, directly across from the town square.

“I’ll meet you tomorrow night at the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar.  It’s crowded there and we won’t appear obvious to anyone.  Besides, a good, tall lager sounds pretty good to me.”  Frank shrugged his shoulders and stretched his neck to one side, then to the other.

“Well, at least that’s one thing we agree on,” Jake answered, imagining a cold beer in his hands right then.  “You’re on, but don’t let me down on this one.  I already told you I held up my side of this deal.  Now you’re going to follow through.”

With that the two men parted ways, Frank heading toward one antler arch and Jake heading toward another.  It would be a long twenty-four hours, Jake thought to himself, but he’d make use of the time.  And tomorrow night he’d have his answer.

CHAPTER FIVE

Paige took the narrow, dirt road east, climbing out of the flat land and winding into the hills.  Tall rows of aspens lined the road, sunlight filtering through the last remaining leaves of gold and orange which represented the tail end of fall foliage.  The sunlight cast sharp angles low across the ground, almost horizontal in the rapidly setting sun.  Beyond a rocky scenic overlook, the road swung sharply down in switchbacks before flattening out beside a lake.  Signs marked the way to a campground, spaces inside empty and quiet.  Yet an open gate, not yet locked for the coming winter, allowed Paige to turn in.

She followed the driveway towards an area designated for a boat ramp, turning left just before it and parking near a small picnic area, which looked out over the water.  The surface of the lake was rippling and a chilly breeze hit her face as she stepped out of her car.   Paige followed a path to a picnic table, took a seat and stuffed her hands in her pockets to try to keep them warm. 

The sun was just slipping behind the horizon and wisps of clouds had started turning from a pale, whitish-yellow to a soft, light pink.  An echo of the same pink settled over the lake, illuminating the ripples across the water.  As the daylight continued to fade, the pink clouds turned to a deep rose and finally to nothing more than dark gray.  The outline of the mountains became pronounced, appearing as jagged edges against the remaining sky.

A few cows called out from the other side of the lake, distant silhouettes along the shore.  As the light faded even further, one lone tree stood out in front of the water’s edge, its barren limbs reaching up into the sky.  The thin, stark branches stood out in dramatic contrast to the warmth of the sunshine that had just departed.

Paige shivered and pulled her jacket tighter around her, watching the final acts of the evening’s sunset performance.  Even as the mountains started to fade into black, a shimmer of light remained on the water, a mirror of the sky.  Like an inseparable pair, they would continue to fade away in equal measure until the blackness of the mountains reached out and took hold of the space above and below.  Soon the cows would blend in with the hillside, the lake itself would become one with the shore.  Dark green pine trees would meld together into one picture of night without anything to distinguish one part from another.

Once again Paige felt the lure of the area.  Tall mountains, so dramatically sculpted they were almost unbelievable, a town with the sense of history and hidden secrets, and now this awe-inspiring sunset over the lake.  Paige knew she’d fallen into something unique and unusual.  There were many shades to the magic of Jackson Hole.  The rosy hues of the evening sunset were just parts of the total spell.  When the dark had almost settled in completely and the chill became too much to bear, she returned to her car and headed back to the cabin.

Dan was working by kerosene lantern outside the barn when Paige pulled into the driveway, hammering a golden colored lodgepole branch into a flat sheet of burl to form one corner’s leg.  Three more legs of similar shape, size and length rested against the side of the barn.  He stopped hammering and called a greeting over to Paige, who responded with a wave as she continued walking to the cabin.  The hammering started up again as she stepped inside and closed the door.

Again she sat before her laptop, recording the observations of the day.  She looked over the history notes she had already made, trying again to get a sense of what the town had been like in its early years.  She tried to imagine the early settlers, how hard it must have been for them to come into the valley and even survive, much less make a home for themselves.  The winters were frightfully difficult.  There was no electricity in the late 1800’s, when people first arrived.  The wildlife, although beautiful, could also be dangerous.  It was certain that some succumbed to attacks from wild animals who acted to protect their young or to guard sources of food.  And then there was the lawlessness, the drinking and carousing that undoubtedly caused additional problems.  Gunfights and territorial arguments must have taken many to their graves, as well.

Paige shut the laptop and built a fire, warmed a cup of soup and curled up on the braided rug, which she had placed a short distance from the fireplace.  She let her thoughts run at random, thinking of the soothing sunset over the lake and continuing to contemplate the scenes that must have played out in the days of the old west.  When she felt sleep descending, just as the dark had fallen over the lake, she pulled a pillow off the bed and fell asleep with the warmth of the fire on her face.

CHAPTER SIX

The sun was nowhere to be found when Jake sat up and stretched the following morning. Looking out his window he saw only heavy mist covering the mountains and a white layer resembling soft cotton stretching out below.  Only the tip of the peak known as The Grand stuck out above the foggy scene, awe-inspiring in its stance 13,770 feet above sea level.

Jake pulled on jeans and a faded sweatshirt and headed to the kitchen to make a pot of fresh coffee.  Over the first few sips of the rich brew, he watched a sliver of lightning streak down from the sky, followed by a sharp crackle of thunder above.  He fixed a bowl of corn flakes, sprinkling far too much sugar on top, a habit he knew he needed to break.  From the kitchen window he watched the rain begin to pour down, slamming against the ground with sudden fury.  More thunder and lightning followed, to his dismay.  He would need to wait the weather out before heading off.  Another delay, he acknowledged reluctantly, just what he didn’t need.

He moved into the main room, setting the cereal and coffee on a rectangular pine table in front of the couch.  Walking by habit to the bookcase, he pulled out the hidden map.  He sat back in the comfortable, wing-backed chair and studied the map in a little more depth.  Tracing his fingers along the tear in the left side, he looked at the zigzag line again, which followed the left margin of the page, small segments occasionally disappearing off the side, as if the line had originally extended beyond the tear.  It must be the mountains, he thought.  Nothing else would have that shape.  The treasure must be on the other side, on the section of the map he was now convinced Frank would bring him that night.  This fit with his theory about Cascade Canyon, which extended deep enough inside the mountains to be located on the portion of the map he considered missing.  Perhaps the zigzag line indicated a direction, not the mountains themselves.  Or it could be both, for that matter.  There was no way to know without the missing piece.

Once again he held the smudged section up to the light, twisting the paper in different directions to see if anything showed through.  There was nothing he could see, just as there hadn’t been when he looked before.  It would be a long day, waiting for the meeting that night with Frank.  Resigned to a rainy morning, he closed his eyes, map clutched in his hand.  He tipped his head to rest against the back of the chair and waited.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The rain was slick on the pavement as Paige drove into town.  It didn’t matter, she knew she had to fight through the storm and get to the library to email Susan.  It had been several days since they had corresponded and it was time to give her an update.  If only she knew exactly what to say.

A few locals were scattered around the library when she entered, either slouched in chairs reading, or working at small tables.  One library worker pushed a metal cart stacked with books, scanning shelves as she moved down the aisles and stopping occasionally to insert a book here or there.

Paige was relieved once again to see the computer area wasn’t crowded.  A teenage girl occupied one seat and an older woman with bifocals leaned in toward a monitor not far from where the teen sat.  Paige took a place near the corner, glad to find a computer available that had some privacy.  She logged on and opened her email to compose a letter.

To:  Susan Shaw

From:  Paige Mackenzie

Re:  Jackson Hole Article

Susan,

It’s quite the rainy day here in Jackson Hole.  We’ve had thunder and lightning since the early hours.  I stayed inside for much of the morning, to avoid the slick roads, but then made my way into town to touch base with you.

I’ve done some research this week on the history of the area.  It’s a fascinating place, settled by homesteaders in the late 1800’s with more arriving as the century turned.  Life was extremely hard for the early residents of this community.  From a historical aspect, it’s possible an article on this would be of interest to history buffs.  I’m not sure how marketable that would be, but it’s one of the possibilities.

On the other hand, I think I may have stumbled onto something on the local level, though I’m still trying to figure out just what it is.  There are a couple locals here who’ve been meeting in the town square, exchanging envelopes and that sort of thing.  One has also been doing research on the area, which I know from bumping into him at the library.  Literally, that is, but that’s another story altogether. It’s just a hunch, but I have a strong feeling there’s something behind all this.

I’m going back to the town square today, even if the rain continues. There’s something unusual going on and I think I should pursue it.