I throw the door open, and it releases the floodgates for everyone else’s movement too. They follow me out of the car and toward the garage. I use my key to open the rickety door and stick my hand just inside, searching for the shovel handle. My fingers pass through spiderwebs as I go, but I finally find the handle and pull it out, shutting and locking the garage once I have it.
Nodding, I take them around the back of the house, and we start walking. Our land is about as dry as the desert. Very few tufts of vegetation sprout out here and there, but it’s mostly a walk through hard-packed dirt, the ground cracked because of the arid climate. “My family has owned this land for centuries,” I say offhandedly. “My great great great great—honestly, I’ve forgotten how far back it goes—but he was around when they built Clary. When the gold rush happened, we were here. He bought this land.” The truth is, we own acres upon acres. I used to play outside for ages when I was a kid, exploring all kinds of things. My father never minded as long as I didn’t go off our property, which gave me a bunch of leeway. Once we’re a ways back from the road, I point out a decaying structure that’s skinned right down to the timbers. “That was the original house.”
The guys let me talk as we traverse the walk to the safe. Wyatt takes the shovel from me, though, and I miss having it to keep my hands busy.
“Who built the house you grew up in?” Lucas asks.
“My granddad. When they put the road through, it only made sense to have the house near the road, so they abandoned the family house which was falling down anyway and built that one. Can you believe the Wilders used to be well off?” I chuckle to myself. My family has sunk every penny we ever earned into finding the treasure.
“I’ve heard the story a million times, but you know I’ve never heard it from a Wilder,” Wyatt says. “You mind tellin’ it?”
I know the story inside and out. It was my bedtime story for many years. This story made me think anything was possible. The story that sounded like it jumped right out of a book, a fairy tale come to life. The thing about fairy tales is, they end happily. My family has been waiting around for our happy for a hundred years.
“The story is,” I say, unable to help the smile that tugs at my lips. It’s no wonder that I grew up loving to read. I wanted to immerse myself in stories wherever I was. Not just the one I was living, but others, too. “My great great great you know,” I tease. “He not only stumbled across the richest gold vein in the Superstitions, but one day while he was mining it, he decided to explore the caves nearby. He twisted this way and that through the tunnels of rock as he traversed the dark stone tunnels until he came across a set of dusty old sacks. People find a lot of shit up in the Superstitions, so he just nudged them aside with his foot, but when he did, he heard the tinkling of metal.”
I stop, remembering the way my father used to get overly animated as he told me the story. It always amazed me that these stories were told to generations and generations of Wilder’s. The same words passed down over the years. “Thinking it was a competitor’s mining tools on his claim, he ripped the drawstring bag open. When he did, the bag practically disintegrated in his hands, and what poured out was the most beautiful array of colors he’d ever seen. In the light of the waning candle, the glittering jewels lit up the cave, splashing it in an array of colors that was just like a true-to-life rainbow in the center of a mountain.”
A smile pulls at Lucas’s lips. Wyatt kicks at a plant, causing dust to plume in front of us, and Stone just listens silently.
“Well, my great great great you know Granddad almost had a heart attack. He opened up all the bags, gleaming at the treasure before his eyes. There was gold, silver, and jewels. The prettiest jewelry one could ever imagine. He put everything right back where it was before he packed up his gear and went home. For ages, he acted like nothing happened. You know how secretive mining can be. He never told anyone about the vein he was on, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell anyone that he stumbled upon a treasure the likes no one had ever seen before. Secretly, he did his homework, wondering what in the world he’d come across. When his sons were old enough, he started taking them to the cave, showing them not only how to mine the gold, but the treasure he’d found years ago.”
“It happened like that,” I say, “Every Wilder passing it on to their children. Did you know I’m the only Wilder child in history who isn’t a male? Dad said that never mattered though because I have a heart of gold and the smarts, too.”
Lucas leans over and presses a kiss to my cheek. “He’s right, you know.” He beams at me, then asks, “How did the secret get out?”
My blood curdles. “When my great great great you know grandfather had his fiftieth wedding anniversary with his wife, he wanted to get her something really nice. To show her how much he loved her. So, he asked his eldest son to grab the prettiest piece of jewelry he could from the mountain treasure. When he gave it to her, he told his wife they’d earned it mining, but in reality, it was
