The other kids, ranging from teens to toddlers, were playing in the other end of the great room.
That’s another thing they’ve gotten right here in Lusty. Kids were welcome to climb on adults, to sit and listen, or to play.
Adam toasted Jackson with his beer bottle. “I did, indeed. In the spring of 1880, a shipment of about two hundred thousand dollars of gold, in the form of twenty-dollar gold pieces, left Philadelphia on its way to a bank in Waco. This gold was the property of one Cyrus Von Richter, a…character of Philadelphian society.
“Von Richter apparently announced to all and sundry that he was heading to Texas. He planned to start a ranch and settle within proximity of some of his family members who, he claimed, were already in the area.”
“There was a lot of migration by Germans beginning in the early part of the nineteenth century.” Ben Kendall, Adam’s oldest son, had come over. “This was actually before Germany was the Germany we know. It was basically a collection of city-states back then. A lot of those immigrants settled in the Hill Country, or near it.”
“That’s right, they did.” Adam gave his son a nod of approval and a grin.
“Von Richter had been a man of dubious honor, and many thought he was leaving Philadelphia before some irate husband or peeved client—he was unofficially an investment advisor—got their hands on him. Some of those clients, it was rumored, had him make investments on their behalf, as they were attempting to hide their wealth from wives or lovers. I guess, sometimes, maybe both.
“The details aren’t specific, except for this one. The gold left Philadelphia, and so did Von Richter, neither to be seen ever again.”
“He disappeared? And his gold? What happened?” Shar asked. Sitting on the floor between the legs of her husband, Jesse, who was also on the floor, she looked as intrigued as he himself felt.
Adam spread his hands. “The guards who’d been hired by the bank to guard the gold swore that, at some point, between Fort Worth and Waco, the gold vanished. The guards were found unconscious in Waco, and the gold was not there. However, the train was not robbed, not in the traditional sense, with men on horses bringing the train to a stop.”
“The bank was in a stir, because apparently the gold was theirs until it was retrieved by the bank in Waco. They’d insured the shipment, of course, as they usually did.
“But no insurance claim was ever filed. The case was closed, officially, twenty years later. The statement at the time noted that rumors of Von Richter’s presence in the Hill Country had reached Philadelphia. As the man had no family in the Philly area, and as he’d never been arrested, nor accused of committing any particular crime…well, the authorities assumed that he’d begun a new life under a new name.”
“With only two hundred thousand dollars?” Dale asked.
“That would have been a fortune in those days,” Jake said.
“What would that much gold be worth in today’s dollars, I wonder?” Jenny asked.
Jake’s grin widened. “At close of markets yesterday, approximately fifteen million—for gold weight alone. Depending on whether or not there were any rare coins in the mix? It could be considerably more.”
Lewis met Jake’s gaze. Then he looked over at Adam.
“Good Lord. You both think that’s what’s buried beneath that Legacy Tree, don’t you?”
“Well, I’ve never been a betting man,” Jake said. “So, we’ll wait and see.”
“One thing I can tell you?” Adam looked from Randy to Michaela and then focused on him. “If that’s what we find—a coffin filled with twenty-dollar gold pieces—those coins are not listed as missing or stolen anywhere.”
“What does that mean?” Michaela turned her gaze on him. Lewis was pretty certain he understood why both Kendalls were smiling.
“It means, baby girl, that if that gold is there, you’re going to be rich.”
“Finder’s keepers,” Adam Kendall said. “As it was for my great-greats, so it will be for you. That’s still a real law in Texas. Any treasure found on your land is yours, according to all the laws of God and man and the great State of Texas.”
Chapter Twenty
Michaela waited by the bumper of the guy’s truck, which they’d parked approximately where the porch had been, as Terry Gowan parked his car by the barn.
Randy was there to shake his hand and invite him to join her and Lewis.
“Are you sure about this, baby girl?” Lewis asked.
“I’m sure. As it is in Montana, so it is here. It’s just not right to blame a man for what his father has done.”
Lewis set his hands on his hips. He exhaled heavily and shot her a sly look. “You’re sneaky when you’re making a point, aren’t you?”
“Maybe a little. From what else Adam told me about Terry’s father? I’d bet the bastard was abusive with him when he was a kid. Having said what I did, it’s hard, in the case of abuse, to break patterns. But Terry broke the ones he’d been born into. He didn’t lash out, and he didn’t take the easy way. You read the report Clint sent in. Gowan had told his son there was gold buried here. He thought about it, he said, and even researched the kind of dollars that gold could represent. And then he decided to pass.”
“Yeah, I read it. The fight he’d had with his dad, telling him that not only was he not going to pursue that fortune, he was going to tell you about it? That was likely what put it in the old man’s mind to drug him and then try to get you to sell by burning the house down.”
Lewis stopped talking as Terry Gowan approached.
“Hey, Terry. How are you?” Michaela asked.
“I’m okay.” He gestured at the house. When he turned back to her she read the sorrow in his eyes. “Damn it to hell, Michaela. I’m so fucking sorry. I never should have let that old man into my
