The Treasure Hunt (15 page)

“With your horses?” Mother asked in surprise.

“I can't see why not. It would be good to have our horses over there. However, I was thinking that it would be very nice to have a strong young man along for the trip. It would take us a couple days, you know.” Barbara locked eyes with fourteen-year-old Joe.

A grin lit Joe's face, and he instantly asked, “May I go, Father?”

“I guess you could pick melons too,” Father said slowly.

“But what would you and Mother and Lydia do with me and Lisbet both gone?” Joe asked.

“I think we could manage. Don't you think so, Mother?”

Mother looked at Lydia. “You have been a good help in our garden. Maybe you can help Father with the chores too.”

“Yes, I can,” Lydia said stoutly. In a way she felt envious of Joe, but then again she was glad to stay home with Father and Mother.

On the very next morning, Barbara was back to pick up Joe and start off on their hundred-mile trip. “Why, she has a covered wagon!” exclaimed Lydia, staring out the window.

Mother came to have a look. “Isn't that something. She must have had a piece of canvas handy and used it to make a roof for their wagon. They'll be glad for shade from the sun on their long trip.”

“It might rain too,” Lydia pointed out.

“It might, but you know how seldom it rains.”

Joe came downstairs with his parcel of belongings.

“Goodbye. Have a good summer,” chorused Mother and Lydia as he went out the door.

“Goodbye!” he called back to them.

They watched as he climbed onto the seat beside his sister-in-law. As she handed the reins to him, three excited children bounced around in the back of the wagon among the pots and pans and bedding.

To Noah and Abner, riding in a covered wagon was fun—for the first three hours. After that Abner wondered if they were almost there. When his mother explained that it was going to take three days, he began to whimper. Noah complained that he was tired of sitting.

By noon, even Joe was glad for a break. Finding a grassy spot beside the road, he allowed the horses to graze. Barbara spread a cold lunch on a piece of oilcloth, and they all ate hungrily.

Noticing the children's drooping eyelids, Barbara said, “We'd better start off again before they fall asleep. They can take their naps in the wagon.”

Joe found his own head nodding a few times as the horses plodded along. The scenery was monotonous. The flat prairie stretched for miles in every direction.

Barbara, Joe, and the three children made the long trip to Ordway.

Suddenly Barbara said, “What's that up ahead? Looks like a town.”

Joe jerked erect, realizing guiltily that he had been dozing. That was no way to drive a team! He focused on the cluster of buildings on the horizon. “Those houses don't look very good.”

As they drew closer, they saw that all the buildings sagged in various stages of disrepair. Some roofs had caved
in. The horses' hoof beats sounded unnaturally loud as they clopped along between rows of forlorn, quiet buildings.

“I don't think anybody lives here,” Joe remarked. “The whole place is dead.”

“This must be a real ghost town,” said Barbara.

Noah's head popped up suddenly behind them. “What's a ghost?”

“There's no such thing,” his mother was quick to tell him. “Some people imagine they see ghosts, but there aren't any.” Barbara gestured toward an old store with a crumbling false front. “Colorado has a lot of these ghost towns.”

“They were built during the gold rush, I guess,” said Joe.

“Yes, and when there was no more gold, the gold seekers quickly left town and moved on,” responded his sister-in-law.

At the far edge of town, they passed the last old house with its rotten rafters and broken walls. “This is a picture of how it goes if we seek our happiness in the things of this world,” mused Barbara. “We might think that a nice home or lots of money will make us happy, but those things are like a ghost town. They don't last. Lasting happiness comes from our faith in God.”

Joe sat beside her and said nothing. Barbara had no idea what an impression her words made on him.

20

True Treasure

W
hen the evening shadows lengthened, Joe asked his sister-in-law if they were going to stop at a farm for the night.

“That's what I was thinking,” Barbara answered.

“I would be fine sleeping in someone's barn.”

“Then let's turn in at this farm,” Barbara suggested.

Joe drove the horses in the lane and pulled them to a halt in front of the barn. A man appeared in the doorway. Joe's heart sank when he saw the frown on his face.

Still, Barbara managed to ask, “Could we please sleep in your barn tonight? I'm from Wild Horse, and I'm on my way to Ordway to meet my husband. This is my brother-in-law.”

With every word she said, the man's frown seemed to deepen. “We don't allow Gypsies on our place.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. We'll leave,” Barbara said hastily.

Joe bade the tired horses to start off again. He couldn't resist saying over his shoulder to the man, “We aren't Gypsies.”

“Wait!” shouted a woman from the porch. Barbara and Joe turned to look in her direction and noticed her beautiful smile. “We have no spare bedroom, but you may sleep on our kitchen floor,” she said.

Joe looked at Barbara. “Do I turn the horses around again?”

“Of course. We need shelter.”

Joe directed the horses in a circle, through the grain stubble, and back onto the driveway. The man seemed friendlier now and helped him unhitch. “Guess I misjudged you,” he said.

Joe answered, “That's all right. Maybe we do look like Gypsies. Can I help you with your chores?”

“If you want to work, you can feed the pigs. I'm Dan, by the way.”

“And I'm Joe.”

So Joe and Barbara and the children spent the night, warm and dry and well fed. The next morning when they started off, the horses seemed refreshed. By nightfall, when
they again found shelter with a friendly farm family, Barbara felt sure it would be their last night on the road.

On the third day, the scenery changed. Orchards lined the roads, and straight irrigation ditches ran between fields of cantaloupes, melons, and sugar beets. “We're almost there,” Barbara told the tired children.

Noah scrambled to his feet and peered out from beneath the canvas. “Where's Daddy?”

“I'm not sure. We'll find him.” Barbara scanned the dozens of workers bent over the rows of melons. There were many Amish men, but none looked familiar.

“We'll just keep on driving,” Barbara told Joe. “If we don't find Ben soon, we'll stop and ask.”

They passed field after field. The little boys kept asking where their daddy was, and their mother kept assuring them that they'd find him.

Suddenly a very surprised looking Ben appeared beside the wagon. “Well, what's this? Did you drive all the way from home?”

In one joyful bound, Noah catapulted out of the wagon and into his father's arms. Abner stayed on board but begged to be held. Hannah also stretched out her arms to Daddy. Ben ended up sitting on the tailgate with all three on his lap.

“Let me show you our tent,” he said when the children allowed him to put them down. “Bring the horses over here please, Joe.” He led them to a wide, grassy area where
a number of tents were pitched. Numerous horses were staked out nearby.

Ben scratched his head. “I'm afraid there's no room in our tent for you, Joe. I didn't know you were coming, but I'm sure glad you did.”

“I can sleep in the wagon,” Joe offered.

Ben helped Barbara build a campfire to cook supper, just as many of the other workers were doing. By the time darkness fell, everyone was too tired to do anything other than roll into a blanket and fall asleep.

The next day, Joe started working in the fields with Ben. It was a new kind of work for him. Hour after hour he toiled with bent back, picking melons. Learning which ones were the ripest took a bit of practice. At first Joe couldn't pick nearly as fast as Ben could, but with each passing day, he grew quicker.

One morning Barbara said to Ben, “I need a few things at the store.”

Ben looked at Joe, who sat on the grass finishing his breakfast. “Would you like to go to the general store in Ordway?”

“Sure,” said Joe, always eager for something new. “Is there only one store?”

“Just the one general store called Merkel's. It's right on
the main street,” Ben told him. “Here's some money and the list of things we need.”

Walking down the town's dusty main street, Joe found the store easily. It had a tall false front and a blue-and-white sign that said Merkel's General Store.

Immediately inside the door was the wood paneled checkout counter. Behind it stood a middle-aged man with silver rimmed glasses and a bald head. “Hello,” he said, smiling a welcome and stretching out his hand. “I don't believe I've met you before. I'm Tillman Merkel.”

Joe shook his hand. “I'm Joe Yoder from Wild Horse. I'm working in the melon fields with my brother Ben.”