It was a quiet dinner of chicken pot pies made with Bernice's special touch. Ben sat at the head of the table with Perry on one side and MT on the other. He enjoyed having the boys together on the weekends because it reminded him of when this house was filled with the laughter of children.

Each of Ben's boys had been a blessing and a unique individual. Richard was a product of his first marriage while Neil and Robert had the same mother, that Yankee woman. Ben allowed himself a mental sigh as he looked at his grandson. At least Robert had done one thing worthwhile in life.

"So you think there is gold in that old well?" Ben asked.

"Not in the well, Pops ... we think there might be a cavern down there ... somewhere," Perry said.

Ben looked over at MT. "You're the cave expert, you think that's possible?"

"I do," MT replied. "I've seen some pretty incredible spaces carved out by the water off that mountain. If what you have around here is a limestone layer, then I imagine it's a good bet there's a cavern down there."

"I suppose we could call Clarence Finley and find out. He's been drilling wells all over the valley for years. He has to know what kind of rock is down there."

"Finley ... Brian's father?" MT asked.

"He is, but the father is nothing like the son. He's an outstanding member of the church," Ben said.

"I wonder where Brian is hiding out?" Perry said.

Ben smiled. "The Sheriff will find him, don't you worry about that. Setting fire to that barn sure gave away his game, didn't it?"

MT smiled back. "He should have chosen his friends better. Everyone knows what a fool Jason is ... perhaps they can share a cell together."

"You know Finley might give us the information we need, but we still don't know where that well is. I imagine we could dig all over that yard for months and never find anything. It's too bad Aloysius didn't give us any better clues."

"I don't know, Pops, a lot of people saw those crates go down the well. There had to be at least half a dozen hands doing that work. You would think someone said something to somebody about it."

"All the documents we have come from Lindsey's surviving family, and they certainly knew where it was so they didn't have to write it down. But the others involved that day were all black, so if there was a witness who wrote about seeing those crates then the information would be in one of those family histories."

"Abraham Ball," MT said. "It sounds like he was one of the few who could read and write."

"We could ask Leon," Perry said.

""He's too young, but I bet Franklin knows if there are any things left in the family from that time period," MT ventured.

"You may certainly ask," Ben said. "But don't you go pestering the old man if he says no. So, Perry says you came to the same conclusion we have about the well. Did you get that from reading the riddle pages?"

"I didn't see it as a riddle exactly," MT replied. "The crates are just mysterious, and I'm surprised no one has looked into this before now."

Ben smiled, and then looked over at Perry. "You want to tell him?"

"The crates aren't mentioned in Albright's book because he doesn't know about them. The journal copy given to the Historical Society is missing the last two pages Aloysius wrote."

"Oh ... that was clever," MT said.

"We couldn't have people crawling all over the lawn speculating about what was in those boxes," Ben said.

"Well, it certainly wasn't biscuits, they never would have survived in a wet environment," MT said.

"We figured that, too."

"So Lindsey knew, but no one else did," MT said. "Tilley and Ball drove those crates back to the estate without any idea of what was in them. The only clue was the line about 'ransom to my future endeavors,' but I wasn't sure what that meant."

"A ransom is usually a sum of money," Ben said. "In his obscure way Aloysius was saying his father was providing for the future. I imagine the minute he tried to pick up one of those crates he knew what was inside. They probably weighed thirty or forty pounds apiece."

Ben looked around the dining room, and especially at the glass fronted china cabinet on one wall.

"I look at some of these old pieces of china and wonder if they shared space with sixteen crates of gold. Your idea of a cavern fits the riddle perfectly, now all we have to do is find that well."

It was midnight before MT and Perry went to bed. Ben had finally succumbed to Bernice's good food and climbed the stairs to his own bed some hours before. But Perry and MT had returned to the library looking for more information about the Ball family.

"It's a shame Albright didn't see the riddle pages of Aloysius' journal," MT said, "but I understand Ben's reluctance to share that information."

"It would have been difficult for him to avoid using the information in his book," Perry said. "I think the Historical Society would have thought it strange if he'd ignored those facts. Or perhaps he did think there was something else about the events surrounding Lindsey's death that seemed a little odd."

"Why do you say that?"

Perry pulled down yet another slim volume off the shelf and handed it to MT. "You know what a smart man he is. I think he was looking for something when he compiled this book."

Again, the volume in MT's hand was leather bound and fairly new. The Historical Society seal dominated the cover under the title: Lively Corners, The Marsh County Freedman Community.

"So he wrote about the black families," MT said. "That sounds interesting."

"Yes, it fills in the details about the slaves in the county before and after they were set free by Lindsey. Not everyone freed their slaves right away, but there was intense pressure to do so right up until the end of the war made it necessary."

"I imagine a lot of people couldn't afford to do what Lindsey had done," MT said. "The farms needed workers and the economy was so bad during the war ... "

"Yes," Perry said. "So how did Aloysius manage? There were a dozen male slaves and their families working on the Trogdon estate, a total of forty-eight people. That's a lot of mouths to feed, clothe and shelter, it must have been expensive."

"You think he had the gold? If he used it then there won't be anything left down that well," MT said.

"This book explains how the families survived, you can read it if you want."

"I'm just about going blind with all these words I read today," MT laughed.

"Okay, then I'll give you a brief analysis. Damn, I'm starting to sound like Albright," Perry said, and he laughed as well.

"I guess the bottom line is that the men who were set free continued to work the estate and were paid. Through the winter of 1863 all the way to the spring of 1865 when Lee surrendered, the families continued to plant crops, maintain them and reap the harvest.

"Atlanta fell a year after Lindsey died, and slavery around here came to a sudden halt. Albright says some owners refused to let their slaves go, and some blacks were shot while attempting to leave. But Lindsey's militia still existed and they arrested those white owners.

"I suppose by virtue of his wealth and the vast holdings of the Trogdon family, Aloysius was looked upon as the leader of the community, white and black. He never wore a uniform and he was never elected to lead, but people listened to him."

"Makes him sound like the Duke of Marsh County," MT said.

"In some ways he was. I think if you compare Aloysius and his father you have two very different people. Lindsey set things in motion but Aloysius got them done. I really want to look at those accounting ledgers."

"Hmm, not tonight ... okay?"

Another Saturday night, and only ten days until Christmas. They huddled in bed and shared their love, but each of them had other passions in mind. December gave them sixty degree days and thirty some degree nights which was made for snuggling.

MT could only imagine how cold this house was in the winter of 1863. Heat came from fireplaces and woodstoves, but both were notoriously inefficient. But eventually the walls had been insulated, while ductwork had been run in cellar and attic, and now the soft rush of warm air was the only sound in the night.

"Imagine how cold it's going to be down that well," Perry said in the darkness.

MT giggled. "You still thinking about that?"

Perry rolled over until they were face to face. "I want to go down there ... I want to be the one to discover whatever legacy Aloysius left us."

"I thought you had enough of caverns filled with water?"

"Oh, it won't be like that this time, not if Pops is involved."

"I think your uncles should get involved. After all, this is a family project," MT said.

"Yeah, they should know about it."

"What about your dad?" MT asked.

Silence greeted that remark, until Perry finally sighed. "Why would I want to include him? He's never done anything good for me."

"Because by showing him what you find you'll prove to be the better man. Maybe you don't love him, but you must have some feelings towards him. He's your dad, even if he never has been much of a father."

"I'll think about it, but I don't even know how to get in touch with him," Perry said.

"I'm sure Ben does ... he knows everything."

"He doesn't know about us."

"We can hope," MT said. "Um ... are you poking me with something again?"

"Sorry, I can't seem to help myself."

"Then we'll have to do something about it now, won't we?"

Sunday gave them a frosty morning with bright sunshine. Over breakfast, Ben agreed to allow Perry and MT to go hunting. MT's rifle had been left in Ben's care since it would never find a use in town.

"Get us some more rabbits," Ben encouraged. "Bernice will hate me when she comes in, but she really made a great stew after our last hunt."

"Will Franklin be in later as well?" Perry asked. "Or do we have to clean them?"

"Hmm, didn't think of that. Do you think you can?" Ben asked.

"Oh, not me ... MT can do it," Perry laughed.

"Thanks a lot, cuz," MT replied. "Yeah, I can do it."

"Just be careful," Ben said. "Don't load until you're ready to hunt, and keep the safety on until you flush a rabbit."

"Yes, sir," MT said.

The frost had melted leaving the ground wet as they made their way across the pasture to the fence. Rabbits were plentiful this time of year, and once the day warmed up they would be out looking for food. Perry bagged the first two, and then MT managed three more. After that the sound of gunshots must have scared the rest of them off, and there seemed to be no more game.

MT led the way back towards the pasture fence, where he paused as something seemed to be moving behind the trees in the barren orchard. Perhaps the horses were out looking for fallen apples. MT climbed the fence and Perry followed after handing over the rifle.

"Did you bring the knives to skin the rabbits?" Perry asked.

"No," MT said, and he sighed. "I'll go up to the kitchen and get them."

Perry opened the game bag and began to lay out the rabbits. It was easy to tell which ones MT had shot because they all had a clean hole somewhere in the head. The boy was an outstanding marksman with that little rifle. Perry heard a thump from inside the barn. Funny, it couldn't be Franklin, this was Sunday and he was off.

Then he thought maybe MT was in there playing games. "MT ... hurry up with that knife," Perry called out.

The back door on the barn was just a few feet away and it slowly began to open. Perry turned to look and what he saw made him catch his breath. The apparition was filthy dirty and covered with bits of straw, but what got Perry's attention was the knife in the boy's hand.

"Brian ... " Perry managed to say.

With three steps, Brian was on top of him, pushing Perry back against the work bench.

"You little shit ... I know that fire was set by you and that faggot Marion," Brian growled.

The overwhelming stench of the boy reached Perry's nostrils and he gagged. But Brian held the knife over his head and at any second Perry knew the boy was going to cut him with it.

"Where is he?" Brian rasped. "I'm gonna ... " And a shot rang out.

Perry felt something wet splatter his face, and the hand that had been holding the knife was gone. Brian screamed and fell to the ground clutching his wrist while blood seemed to flow down his hand like a river. Perry looked over and saw MT holding the rifle to his shoulder, but then he quickly jacked back the bolt and placed a new cartridge in the chamber. The barrel was pointed squarely at Brian.

"Go, Perry," MT said. "Go get Ben, and call the sheriff."

But Ben had just rounded the corner of the barn and he stopped when he saw Brian on the ground, and all that blood.

"You shot me," Brian screamed.

"And I'll do it again, you son of a bitch," MT said.

"Hold on," Ben said, and when he approached MT lowered the rifle.

"He was going to cut me," Perry said.

"My hand," Brian yelled.

Ben pulled out his cell phone and dialed 9-1-1. When the connection was made he asked for an ambulance and the sheriff, both would soon be on the way. Then he removed his belt and wrapped it around Brian's forearm in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood.

The knife was on the ground a dozen feet away, as were the two fingers Brian lost when the bullet hit him. MT stood there with the rifle pointed at the ground, unsure what would happen now. It had all gone so fast, he had just reacted. Brian looked like he was about to plunge that knife into Perry and MT had ... look at the mess he had created.

Brian was lying on the ground in shock while Ben held the crude tourniquet. The boy was filthy, and it looked like he had been sleeping outside, or at least in the barn. The sound of a siren could be heard out on the highway and within minutes the ambulance was there and the paramedics were working on Brian.

Ben pulled Perry in under his arm and hugged the boy. It seems that once again MT had saved his grandson from certain disaster. Just how all this had happened was something they would have to talk about, but not until the sheriff had asked his questions.

The paramedics loaded Brian in the ambulance just as a patrol car pulled in behind the house. MT looked up and smiled as Deputy Dave approached and looked in the back of the ambulance. He nodded to the driver and slipped inside. Brian was a wanted man and Dave would stick to the boy on the ride to the emergency room.

"Sheriff's on his way," Dave called out. "Don't touch anything ... I'll be back."

The doors were shut and the ambulance rolled away. They could hear the siren start up again once the vehicle hit the highway. MT laid the rifle and Bernice's good kitchen knife on the work bench, and then he leaned against the barn and slid down until he was sitting on the ground.

Perry went over and sat down beside him just as the Sheriff pulled in and Ben went over to talk with the man.

"I'm sorry," Perry said.

"Sorry for what?" MT asked.

"I didn't know what to do. He came out of the barn so fast ... I didn't have any warning. He would have cut me if you ... if you ... " And then Perry started to cry.

MT slid an arm around the boy and held him close. They were both in shock, but Perry needed him and MT pushed aside the feelings. The image of Brian with that knife flashed across his mind, as did the thoughts which had accompanied that moment.

MT had jacked a cartridge into the chamber and raised the rifle to his shoulder. Without thinking he had aimed directly at the side of Brian's head, just in front of his left ear. A shot like that would kill from twenty feet away, and MT had almost pulled the trigger.

But something had stopped him. The knife was a bigger threat and so MT had eliminated it, fingers and all. It had been a dangerous shot because Perry was so close, only inches away. The tears left tracks in the spattering of Brian's blood which now dotted Perry's cheeks, and MT used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the boy's face.

"I'm the one who should be sorry," MT said.

"You should have killed him," Perry said, his emotions finally turning to anger at what had happened.

"No ... I could have hurt you, I'm sorry," MT said.

Ben and the Sheriff walked around the corner of the barn, and MT stood up, helping Perry to his feet. Ben laid a hand on Perry's shoulder, but MT wouldn't let go of the boy as they talked their way through the events. The Sheriff was surprised when Perry described Brian holding the knife only inches from his face, and then he picked up the rifle.

"You shot him with this?" The Sheriff asked.

"Yes, sir," MT said. "It didn't look like I had much choice."

"Perry could have been hurt ... "

"No," Perry blurted out. "I wouldn't trust anyone but MT to make that shot. I just wish he had ... "

"Let's not talk about that," Ben said, and he paused when the County Coroner's van pulled up. "What's he doing here?"

"Forensics," the Sheriff said. "Brian left some evidence behind we need to photograph and pick up."

The image of Brian's fingers lying on the ground finally got to Perry, and he leaned over and vomited on the ground. MT held on to the boy as Perry's stomach emptied. And then they all walked slowly back towards the house as the Coroner went to work.

Carl Teague was only minutes behind the Coroner. Ben had called him to say MT had been involved in an incident with the rifle, but that no one was dead. It wasn't the kind of phone call Carl needed on a Sunday morning, but he rushed out of the house without saying a word to June.

It was well past lunchtime before the paperwork was done and all the questions answered. Dave returned, delivered back to the house by one of the ambulance volunteers. By then Carl knew all of the details and he wasn't happy. But Dave told everyone that Brian was under guard for the moment and they would be putting him into surgery right away.

"He lost two fingers," Dave said, "and that's going to remind him of this stupidity for the rest of his life."

"Did he mention what this was all about?" The Sheriff asked.

"Yeah, he did. I read him his rights and told him I would call his father, which I did. He said he just wanted to scare Perry, but he was really out to slice up MT. He blames them for the barn fire that destroyed the marijuana crop. I guess that admission won't do him any good in court.

"But he's been on the run for over a month. Says he's been sleeping in barns and stealing food from people's houses after they go to work. Said he never took much, didn't want anyone to notice. But he smells real bad which only gives credibility to his story."

"Thank you, Dave," The Sheriff said. "I'll meet with his father and see if we both can't go talk to Brian after the surgery."

"Yes, sir, that's a good idea. He's willing to talk now."

The Sheriff turned to Ben and shook his hand. Then he looked over at Carl and MT.

"I wouldn't go pointing that rifle at anyone, young man. Next time you might not get so lucky. Don't fret over this incident, you didn't do anything wrong ... at least not anything criminal. I would just put this behind you and move on. Stick to shooting at rabbits, okay?"

"Yes, sir," MT said.

"Okay, MT ... let's go home," Carl said.

"I can't, Dad ... not yet."

Carl led MT out to the front porch and asked him to explain why he couldn't leave.

"Perry needs me, he's still in shock," MT said.

"But your mother will be too then she hears about this," Carl said.

"I just can't go ... I need to stay here tonight. I'm the only one who knows what Perry is feeling, we were in this together. Take the rifle away if you want, but I need to be here for Perry."

"It isn't about the rifle, MT. You didn't break any of the rules we set. I suppose I should be glad you were there to save Perry from that boy, but you did something that's going to stick in your head for a long time."

"I could have killed him ... I wanted to," MT said.

"But you didn't, you chose a better way to solve the problem. Look," Carl said, "I seem to be watching you grow up before my eyes, but this has been a hell of a year for both of us. First Jason and now Brian, I hope this is the last of that nonsense. So go on, stay here with Perry and I'll set this right with your mother ... somehow."

"Thanks, Dad."

The Sheriff had taken his leave and Dave was sitting at the table drinking coffee when MT returned to the kitchen. Neither boy was hungry, but Ben was fussing about making them some soup and so MT got up and took over the kitchen.

Ben had made Perry wash up and change his shirt once they walked back in the house, but now he sat at the table with only a glass of water in front of him.

"I guess we took our eye off the ball," Dave said. "If Brian has been sneaking around town the past month we should have heard something about his stealing from people's houses."

"I don't think he was really doing that," Perry said. "I think he's lying to cover up what Granny Bates has been doing for him."

"Oh ... why would she help him out?" Ben asked.

"She had to know about the pot, and I bet Jason was paying her off to keep quiet. Once that stuff dried out it had to be processed somewhere. You know, they break up the plants and weigh the stuff out. I bet they were doing it in her house."

Dave shook his head. "I don't know her. You think the old lady is rolling joints and counting her cash?"

"It would explain why the sheriff's department never found anything. Who'd suspect her?" Ben asked.

"Maybe we can leverage an admission from Brian if the District Attorney is willing to cut him a deal," Dave said. "Then we can get a search warrant for the house. The pot thing is minor compared to attempted murder."

Perry shook his head. "I don't want that ... the more I think about it I don't want that at all."

MT dropped the spoon in the soup pan and startled them all. "Perry ... that bastard wanted to kill you. Why are you backing off?"

Perry got up from the chair and walked over to where MT was standing beside the stove. He placed a hand on MT's shoulder and they shared a glance.

"I want to back off because I don't want us in a courtroom or in the news. Don't you think Brian has been punished enough? He's going be locked up on that pot business for a long time. I think he's already been hurt enough ... and so have you."

With that Perry embraced MT and they hugged for a long, long time. Ben and Dave just sat there, each with their own thoughts about what Perry had said. But the soup started to boil and MT had to let go and deal with that.

"Is everyone hungry?" MT asked. Everyone nodded and Perry went for the soup bowls.

Clarence Finley was so horrified by the actions of his son that he knocked on the door of the mansion just after seven o'clock on Monday morning. Ben left the kitchen where Bernice was already at work fixing breakfast for the boys before they had to catch the school bus.

"Mr. Trogdon ... I am so sorry," Clarence began. "I don't know what's gotten into Brian, but that is about to change."

"Please come in, Clarence. None of this is your fault," Ben said, escorting the man into the front hall. "The law will take its course and deal with the boy. I'm just sorry he did something so foolish and sustained such a terrible injury."

"His hand, well, the doctor stitched him up and said he'll recover. The sheriff is going to leave him in the hospital the rest of the week, but he'll be going to jail after that."

It was about that time when MT and Perry came down the stairs. Perry had never met the man but MT knew who he was. Clarence gave MT a sheepish look and shook his head.

"MT ... I'm sorry for what Brian did, but I'm glad you stopped him," Clarence said.

"Mr. Finley, its Perry here who needs the apology," MT said.

"Then I apologize to both of you."

"It was all pretty senseless, Mr. Finley," Perry said. "I just hope it's over and we can get past this."

"Come on, Clarence. Come sit down and have some breakfast with us," Ben said.

"Oh I couldn't impose, not after ... "

"Now stop that," Ben said. "You're a fine man and our families have been friends for generations. I expect that certainly won't change. Come sit down and talk to me."

Clarence was still a bit stunned to find himself sitting at Ben's table, but he did drink a cup of coffee. Ben asked after his wife and daughters, but there was no further mention of Brian.

"As to the underground rock in this area, yes, it's all pretty much limestone with ridges of granite," Clarence informed them. "There's probably a good deal of iron down there ... you thinking of mining?"

Ben laughed. "Oh no, it's just a curiosity Perry has developed from his science class at school. Something about water tables and how everyone has a well."

Perry smiled at Ben's deception, and then picked right up on that theme.

"I know before you came along, Mr. Finley, that all the wells around here were dug by hand. All the rock must have made work like that a terrible hardship," Perry said.

"Absolutely right," Clarence said. "But the water table is pretty high this close to the mountains. You know that's the source of our water, all those underground streams."

"You don't say," Perry replied.

"Oh yes. Being down here in the valley we get water from all the high places around us. As for hand digging a well, I imagine that would take three or four men about a week to accomplish. Just takes less than a day for me with that drilling rig."

"Did you drill the well here on the estate?" Perry asked.

"Sure did. Had to once old Mr. Trogdon decided to put in that swimming pool. We were afraid that old well would get all used up if we had a dry spell."

"The old well?" Perry asked.

"Yes, a very old well, hand dug as I recall. They built the pump house for the pool right on top of it so the pipes could be run down the sides to the water. That was about thirty years ago, but it still seems to be working out. I think they had to replace the pump about five years ago. Is that right, Mr. Trogdon?"

"I guess so, Clarence. I seem to recall we had some work done on the pool. My father swore by his daily swim after that thing was dug. I know my boys enjoyed using it. I'll have to make a note to have those pipes inspected."

"Yes, sir. Might be a good idea."

"So the pump house has all those filters in it, how will we ever get into that well?" Perry asked once Clarence had left.

"Ask your Uncle Neil," Ben said. "He knows about stuff like that."

"Can we call him?" Perry asked. "I think we should call Uncle Richard, too, they both need to be in on this."

Ben smiled. "I agree, now you boys better hurry before that bus gets here."

It was a difficult week at school, mostly because the Christmas holiday loomed and no one really wanted to study ... or teach. Albright managed to keep the history class together by talking about the Trogdon encounter with the Civil War. They had already discussed the Battle of Chickamauga and towards the end of the week were working on the Reconstruction Period after the war.

Albright had a lot to say about the development of the black community during that period and the construction of Lively Corners. Black families were moving off the land belonging to their former masters and they needed a place to go, and then Albright brought up a very familiar name.

"The Ball family, as you all know, was one of the largest in the county, and still is. By the time the war had ended they had been freedmen for almost two years. The relationship between the Trogdons and the Balls went back decades into the past, and so it was no surprise when Aloysius Trogdon gave the black community five hundred acres to start their town.

"Florence was the daughter of Abraham Ball and she had worked for the Trogdons since she was a little girl, first as a slave and then afterwards when her family was freed from that condition. She was somewhat of an enigma in her family who regarded her as slightly crazy.

"But she studied plants and animals, and we might call her a naturalist today. But her knowledge of herbal medicines concocted from plants was something everyone sought. And Lindsey Trogdon was one of her patients when he first came home from the war with his wounds. From what I have read, Florence deserves some credit for saving Lindsey's life when his leg became infected.

"I believe it was this kindness that Aloysius was repaying when he donated the land for Lively Corners. He bought the materials to build a church and a schoolhouse for the black children to attend, since the only school at that time was for whites only. But Aloysius donated material for dozens of houses, while the men of the community provided the labor."

Here he paused and Perry waited for Albright to go on. Aloysius might have provided all those materials, but how did he pay for them? Did Albright even know?

"Trogdon farms kept the economy of the valley alive in the horror that followed after the war. All across the South very little seemed to be happening to rebuild the infrastructure that could support the people. It was commonly thought this was all about Northern retribution, and some of that was true.

"Aloysius made sure the black community survived, and in turn they worked the farms to feed everyone. It took ten years before the town of Trogdon came back to life. Aloysius was still a young man with a wife and four children by the time the Trogdon business was able to stand back up on its feet. But when they did it gave Marsh County a bright future."

Albright paused with a smile. "That's all for this lesson. Some of you may find the time to visit the historical museum in the next few years where you will find a complete look at the things we have discussed. I want you all to have a good vacation. We'll meet again in January."

"He doesn't know," Perry said.

"He's not supposed to know, isn't that what Ben said?" MT replied.

"I just feel bad about keeping the secret, especially from someone like Albright. I'm going to ask Pops if we can get Albright to document what we plan to do."

MT shrugged. "And what if there is nothing down there?"

Perry laughed. "We'll find something I'm sure. Our luck has been running like that since we first met."

The school bus dropped MT off in town and Perry continued on home. He wished Elvira a Merry Christmas and she returned the greeting, then slammed the door and took off in a cloud of blue exhaust smoke.

Christmas was only three days away and the family would gather on the estate for an elaborate dinner. Ben had assured Perry that MT's family would be included so it would be a crowded affair. But Neil would be there and it would be the first chance to discuss how they might open up the well.

Franklin was sitting in the kitchen when Perry walked in looking for his glass of milk and a cookie. The elder Ball had a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his face.

"Hello, Mr. Perry," Franklin said.

Perry had always been uncomfortable with that form of address, but his Pops had said Franklin had always been like that. It just seemed to be so subservient in a place where the relationship of blacks and whites had such a jaded history.

"Mr. Ball," Perry said, reverting to the formal address. "What have you got there?"

Franklin held a cardboard box in his lap. "Something your Pops said you might be looking to see."

Bernice laughed as she set a glass of milk and a plate of cookies on the table. "Go on, don't keep the boy in suspense," She prodded.

Franklin set the box on the table and opened it. Very gently he reached inside and pulled out a small wooden crate, setting it on the table. Perry almost fainted when he realized what this was. Stenciled on the wood in faded lettering was the word 'biscuit.'

"Where ... where did you get this?" Perry asked.

Franklin sat back down and contemplated the little crate. "Been in my family a long, long time ... maybe a hundred some years. You know what this is, don't you?"

"This was one of the crates in the wagon Abraham Ball drove back to the estate when Lindsey Trogdon was killed."

Franklin nodded. "Yes, you got that right. My great, great granddaddy brought this back from the battle. Mr. Lindsey asked him to deliver the wagon to Mr. Aloysius, and had the Parson write down some papers. They both knew it wasn't biscuits in that wagon, but I guess you know that too."

Perry nodded. "You've had this box all along ... why didn't you tell me?"

Franklin chuckled. "Mr. Trogdon said not to. Said you would enjoy your little adventure a lot more if you didn't have all the answers right away. But I see you puzzled it out and so it was time to show you that this was real."

"Do you know what was in the crate?" Perry asked.

"I heard tell what they found, but I never saw anything," Franklin replied. "My Granny said it was all gone before I was born. Mr. Aloysius used the gold to save Trogdon and build up Lively Corners."

"So how did your family come by the crate, did Aloysius give it to the Parson?"

"I think so, but it's been in my attic for over fifty years. Granny said that each of the families working for Mr. Lindsey received one of these boxes, although I don't think there was any gold left in them."

"Wait, there were only twelve families on the estate," Perry said. "That leaves four crates unaccounted for."

"Don't know nothing about that," Franklin said. "I just know what Mr. Aloysius gave the Ball family. If there was more I don't know what happened to it."

"That's okay ... maybe I do," Perry said.


On to the Epilogue

Back to Chapter Eleven

Chapter Index

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