The Adventures of Bill and Olivia (20 pages)

Metal detector enthusiast search for gold in the desert but find a 160 year old mystery needing to be solved.

****The Find****

“Gold!... gold is the ticket to our future,” Bill mentions to Olivia as they drive their Chevy Silverado along the desert highway.

The air conditioning makes them oblivious to 100F plus degree temperature of the June Nevada sun.

“I must really love you...” Olivia responds, “if I’m willing to spend our last summer vacation in the hot desert sun looking for gold that doesn’t exist.”

“We have an advantage,” Bill defends, “They didn’t have metal detectors back in the gold rush. I’m sure there is gold in the diggings of the old mines. This way we don’t have to go into the mines at all. We just find the rocks that have gold in the center that was missed back in the day”.

Bill monitors the rearview mirror to insure that the four wheeler in the bed of the truck has not worked itself loose.

“What’s the deal with you dad’s claim?” Bill asks Olivia.

“He said that he inherited it when he was 18 years old from his great uncle Whitey. I guess Whitey won it in a poker game many years before,“ she tells him while pulling it out an old fragile bible. “It’s been in this bible forever… I guess for safe keeping.”

From between the pages she pulls out a frail piece of paper and continues, “It’s really cool. On the front is the name of the original owner ‘Martin Hadley’. On the back lists all of the signatures passing along the ownership to the next person. In the year 1920 Hadley signed it over the Whitey. In 1978, Whitey signed it over to my dad.”

She gently folds it back into the bible for safekeeping. “From what my dad said, she continues, “he’s never been there and it sound as though Whitey has never been there either.”

“Cool,” Bill says out loud, “That means that it will be close to 100 years since anyone has been there.”

“Oh, Joy,” remarks Olivia.

Bill jokes to Olivia, “Maybe we’ll find a dinosaur and you can put your ‘history/archaeology’ major to work.”

Olivia rebuts, “Maybe the dinosaur killed another dinosaur and you can put you ‘criminology’ major to work.”

“It wouldn’t be a crime it were a dinosaur.”

After what seems like a year of driving across a flat arid span of desert they arrive at the small town of Fallon, Nevada. The GPS takes them directly to their first stop, the office of the Bureau of Land Management (BLM). Here, they hope to get the actual coordinates of the claim.

“Howdy folks! How can help you?” inquires a park ranger from behind the desk.

“We’re trying to find the actual location of this claim.”

Olivia opens the bible exposing the 160 year old document from its protective covering.

“WOW!” remarks the park ranger, “I’ve never seen one this old. Please wait here. There are other here that will want to see this.”

Before long, the entire BLM staff is hovering over the document on the countertop.

“You need to keep this is a very safe place,” mentions the park ranger then continues, “May I take a picture of his before you put this away?”

“Sure.”

“There’s one little problem,” he continues while taking a picture of each side, “This is no longer a valid claim.”

Bill and Olivia get the feeling of disappointment.

“”The BLM was established in 1872. Prior to that, each state or governing body controlled public land. When this document was created in 1850, even Nevada didn’t exist. This was considered the Utah territory.”

The ranger pulls out a very large, very old book.

“I should be able to tell you where the location is based on the number on the claim in this reference. I can then tell you whether or not anyone owns that claim. If not, we can sell that claim to you.”

He runs his finger down a long list of numbers then turns the page and continues.

“There is a one time filing fee then and annual maintenance fee…” his finger stops, “Here it is.”

He writes a long number down then continues, “If someone else owns this claim and has been paying the maintenance fee then they technically I can’t give you someone else’s claim.

He goes to the back room for a while then comes back, “You’re in luck! Nobody owns this claim. If you want it I can make that happen, here’s a fee listing.”

Olivia calls her father and he agree to pay the fee and the claim is titled to Olivia so she can sign the forms.

The park ranger hands them a stack of signs that they can post on the borders of the claim to mark its boundaries.

They find a motel on the outskirts of town and soon the are on the fourwheeler heading for the claim.

After about 20 minutes of rugged mountain climbing they reach their destination. From the GPS on their phone they begin staking the claim.

While staking the claim along a ridge they notice what appears to be diggings from a possible mine over a shear drop off. After circling around the ridge to the bottom of a small cliff, they begin scanning the metal detector in the area of light colored mounds of dirt. From the bottom of the drop off and under a natural ledge there is a pile of loose rocks that are not like the rest of the  rocks on the cliff wall. Bill begins removed some of the rocks until a putrid odor belches out from behind.

“Woo that’s nasty,” Bill says as he covers his nose.

Olivia climbs up the pile of rocks to meet with Bill in curiosity and begins assisting in seeing what lurks beyond the pile. As they remove more rocks they discover that they are opening the entrance of an old mine shaft. The more they dig the larger the opening. The larger the opening the more excited they become. They can’t wait to begin exploring.

After what seems like hours the opening is large enough to allow a clear entrance to a mine.

They did not come equipped with flashlights so they decide to drive the four wheeler into the mine allowing the headlight to light the way.

As they enter, the light scans across a mound of clothing. With the headlight aim at the clothes, they get off the fourwheeler and walk for a closer look.

They gasp when they see a mummified hand still gripping a diary. Olivia backs up and stumble upon another body.

“There’s another one over here.” she gasps.

“We better call the police,” she suggests.

As they await the arrival of the police, Bill opens the diary and it falls open to the last entry, ‘1865, To be in good graces with God, I confess that I killed Martin Hadley and took his gold.’

****1855 Prosperous Dreams****

Exhausted from the 4 hour hike from, Ragtown Martin Hadley and his five year old son arrive at their claim with a rented mule in tow. They stop to drink from the canteen then begin offloading supplies from the mule.

“I wish your mother were here. She’d be so proud of you,” the father says to reflect how helpful his son is at such a young age.

Even at the age of five years old his son does not hesitate to help in offloading supplies.

“Pa?’ questions the son, “when we get rich from this gold, What are ge going to do with it?”

“We’re going to build a big house. We’re going to have our own horses and wagons so we can come and go into town as we please, and we’re going to have a well drilled so we’ll have water any time we want it without having to carry it in from town.”

“That sound great Pa.”

With gold, we can send you to a proper school, and with money you’ll  have your choice of any woman that you want. That’s right. Women will seek you out instead of the other way around.”

“Yuck! I don’t think I want to get rich Pa. Girls are yucky.”

“You won’t think that for long.”

“I know that people are beginning to give up finding gold. After all, we’ve been digging for 5 year now. At least we’re paying the bills…. but one day, we’ll hit the mother lode then jackpot! I know it’s there. We just haven’t found it yet… but we will.

They continue taking supplies to a small wooden shack. After the supplies are stowed the father begins carving on a five foot plank. The son finds a spot in the shade and begins scratching the ground with a shovel.

****Sheriff’s Assessment****

It took close to an hour for the Fallon Sheriff’s department to pinpoint their location. There are no roads or even trails that lead to that point. You just need to know where you’re going.

Hello, I am Sheriff Cavasos,” the sheriff introduces, “Where are these bodies that you were referring to?”

“They’re over here,” Bill replies.

They survey the situation and with in a very short time conclusions have been made.

“It appears that this is an example of ‘gold rush justice’. Either there was a dispute over a claim or one person was caught stealing gold, a duo broke out resulting in both parties dying,” the Sheriff concludes. “Either way anybody involved has been long gone for at least 100 years.

“What about the confession in the diary?” Olivia’s asks the Sheriff.

“Like I said, anyone involved has been dead for a long long time.”

“Sir?” Bill interjects, “I am a criminology major, and this would make for a great internship…”

The Sheriff cuts him off, “There is a about a week’s waiting list to cremate the bodies.... and I don’t have the resources to apply to an irrelevant case.”

Bill and Olivia become excited.

“I’ll give you a week. If you can come up with relevant information then we’ll consider a deeper look. If not, these two will be cremated and that will be that.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Before the detectives remove the bodies, Bill and Olivia take picture on their cell phones from every direction.

They notice a rifle leaning against the wall of the mine within feet from the bodies.

Bill whispers to Olivia, “I wonder if that’s the murder weapon?”

Olivia begins analyzing the bones as she had been taught in her archaeology studies. This is the first time she’s had the opportunity to study a real case with real bones.

Bill and Olivia are very excited.

****1860 The Wilsons****

Ten years have passed and most of the prospector have moved on or given up and gone home. For Martin Hadley, this is his life. Prior to the gold rush, poverty had taken him to despair and the thought of finding gold gave him hope. That hope turned to despondency when his wife died giving birth to their son. Now he alone must provide for his son the only way he knows how, scavenging for gold in hopes that he can pay his bills, keep food on the table, and put a roof over their heads.

Day after day, month after month, year after year, he walks from the shanties of Ragtown to the claim with the pressure to make it work.

One evening Martin sees a silhouette in the setting sun of a man walking away from him to the west. He’s never met him neighboring claim holder, but then there has always been a mountain ridge between them. Although there is some distance between them, he recognizes him from town as the man named Henry Wilson. Wilson always had to have everybody’s attention and spoke the loudest while in a crowd.

Martin never knew what Henry did for a living. All he knew was that Henry Wilson was the brother of JT. Wilson the bank owner.

A week had passed when Martin spots Henry in town one evening. Being that they are neighbors, Martin decides to make an introduction.

“Howdy Mister. Hadley’s the name, Martin Hadley.”

“Henry Wilson,” Henry replies while the two men shake hands.

“I saw you at the claim next to mine last week. I reckon that make us neighbors.”

“I reckon so, Wilson acknowledges. “What kind of color are you getting up there?”

“Enough to pay the bills I guess,” Martin answers, “What about you?”

“The same.”

Soon they are joined by Martin’s son. The son is introduced to Mr. Wilson.

Martin noticed that his son was acting very strange, almost anxious. Henry’s two nephews join them and fear comes over the son.

“There’s where the gold is,” Henry points to the bank, My brother started that bank so all of these little people can survive. That’s right little pathetic people.”

****Cause of Deaths****

The next day Bill and Olivia make their way to the sheriff’s office. Upon arrival the detective approach them and informs them that the cause of death a gunshot to the head, straight on, and not close range.

The medical examiner’s report suggests that the entrance to the mine caved in very shortly after death. If not the bodies would have decomposed  much more rapidly. In fact, if not the the cave in, there may not have any bodies at all.

“Here are the personal effects,” the detective mentions while handing Olivia a banker’s box. “Only because this case is considered outdated and irrelevant are we able to allow you to go through this stuff.”

“Thank you,” Olivia says to the detective.

“Oh, and by the way, they’ve identified the bodies based on the personal effects. The first body found is Henry Wilson, the brother of the bank founder. The other person is Martin Hadley, just another passing prospector that found the wrong end of a gun.”

“Okay,” Bill says, Thank you for that information.”

“I wish, continues the detective, “that when I went through my internship that I was given a case like this…. Have fun.”

They go back to the cab of the truck to escape 9:00 am 80 degree heat. Once in the truck they begin looking through the box of personal effects. Most of the papers in the wallets have deteriorated. Pictures from the wallet are stuck together. Fortunately the dairys of the two men are in very good shape.

“The handwriting looks different in the diary than on the confession. Notice the loops at the end of each word. The diary does not have these loops.”

He reaches for the then notices that Olivia has the other diary, “Open up that diary and look for these loops.”

Olivia gingerly opens the diary and no loops are found.

“Maybe he was overly stressed because he knew that he was going to die soon,”  Olivia adds.

“Well maybe,” Bill concurs.

“So this guy Wilson, shoots Hadley in the head. The entrance ‘caves in’ from the gun fire, Then what? Wilson knows that he’s going to die so he writes the confession, then shoots himself in the head? That doesn’t make sense.”

“What do you mean?” Olivia asks.

“If you’re going to die anyway, Why shoot yourself?”

****Ragtown to Fallon****

Towards the end of the day Olivia does what Olivia does best, research history. Bill retreats to the motel to ponder his thoughts about the case while Olivia goes to the town library.

She discovers that Fallon in the mid 1800s was called Ragtown and served as a haven to travelers who dare to cross the desert. Many travelers did not make it to Ragtown for the journey from the east consist of 110 miles of hot and arid desert sun. Upon arrival the Ragtown the travelers received a warm great from the native Paiutes.

In 1849, gold was discovered in California which made Ragtown passage a given. Many prospectors decided to stay in the area. Henry Wilson and Martin Hadley were such prospectors.

In 1902 President McKinley was assassinated and Theodore Roosevelt was able to move forward with his land reclamation act which funded the irrigation of the desert land from the carson river thus creating fertile land from which to farm.  A local rancher Michael Fallon sold his ranch and the town was renamed to Fallon.

For many years Fallon was a typical mining town where those who had the largest gun ruled the land. Farming soon replaced mining and the main source of income for the town. Fallon grew in population and soon the county seat followed which brought with it a legal system.

When the population grew so did the Wilson bank. JT. Wilson, the brother of Henry Wilson, financed most of the land in this desert town because there was no competition. Before the reclamation act most of the land was considered worthless desert land that would never amount to anything. Once farming became available land value grew and Wilson bank own the majority of mortgages on the land.

Farmers who needed advances for running a farm, would refinance against the equity in the increased value of their land, which gave Wilson bank an even larger grip on power and money.

Today the Wilson and their bank are the most influential and most powerful family in Fallon. Nobody dare to dispute them.

****1865 Schoolyard Confrontation****

The schoolyard is ablaze with activity as it always is when a fight is imminent. 15 year old Martin Hadley Jr. was being tormented by the Wilson brothers.

The crowd of kids gather as the Wilson boys corner their victim.

“Little people! What were you thinkings when I tripped over your chair?”

“I didn’t know you were there. I just got up and chair went backward. I didn’t mean to trip you.”

“Sure you didn’t,” spouts one of the Wilson boys, “You’ve been jealous of us just like all of the other little people in this town.”

“Really I didn’t mean it.” defends Martin Jr.

“You’re  just as worthless as your worthless dad.”

“You take that back!”

“Or what? Little man,“ Wilson shoves him.

“You’re just mad that my dad didn’t borrow money from your dad’s bank. We’re getting by fine on our own.”

“You call that life that you’re living, ‘getting by’?” wilson shoves him again.

“At least we’re not in debt to your dad’s blood sucking bank.”

The Wilson boys begin hitting and kicking Martin Jr. Although Martin Jr gets a few good hits in hi is just overpowered. The more they hit, the more Martin Jr. tries to fight back, the more angry the Wilson boys become. This is no longer a showdown over being tripped by a chair. The Wilson boys are making a statement for everybody to see. Martin Jr just happens to be the target of that statement.

An hour later the Wilson boys ride horseback into the mountains that surround the town. From the back of one of the horses they pull the limp, motionless body Martin Jr.

The hot sun beats down on them as they toss Martin Jr. to the ground.

“We’ll let the buzzards pick him clean and coyotes will take care of his bones.”

One of the Wilson boy leans Martin Jr.’s bloody and swollen face. “You should’ve known better than the mess with the Wilsons.”

****Meet the  Wilsons****

The next morning Olivia and Bill go to the Sheriff’s office to report their discoveries. Sheriff Cavasos call them into his office.

“Well my young intern junior detectives, What news do you have for me today?”

We’ll Sir,” Bill begins, “There are so many clues that are not right about this case that just don’t make sense, For instance, both gunshot wounds came from the same rifle.”

“Okay”, adds Sheriff Cavasos, “That is very possible. One man shot the other. The percussion caused a cave in, and rather than spend weeks of starvation and thirst deprivation, the other man took his own life.”

“The gunshot wound were straight on for both men… how is that possible with a rifle?”

The intercom buzzes from the front desk, “Sheriff, Henery Wilson is out here with another eviction.”

“I’ll be right out,” the Sheriff says as he acknowledges the intercom then continues, “I have to take this. Henry Wilson is a pain in my neck. He’s a local attorney that works for the bank, and the bank and Henry Wilson seems to find enjoyment in evicting hard working people out of their homes when their down on their luck…. There’s nothing I can do but evict this because the law is the law.”

Bill and Olivia follow the sheriff  out to the front desk where a portly gentleman in a business suit greets the sheriff. “Sheriff, these folks have failed to pay their lien so they need to be served.”

The sheriff pleads, “Henry, you know that in a month the plant will be hiring their usual seasonal worker. Perhaps a little leniency is in order.”

“Stop right there Sheriff, ‘the attorney interrupts. “Little people like this need to be put in there place. If we give in to this, what’s next? the bank will have to default on their loans and it just spirals and spirals, and beside, this has been a strict policy with the bank since it was founded, and the bank is the only company in this god forsaken place that can show a profit. We can’t let little people walk all over us.”

“Okay Henry. If you insist.”

“Did you say Henry Wilson?” Olivia asks the man.

“Yes indeed I am. Do you need an attorney? Then I’m your man. Here’s my card… Everybody needs an attorney.”

“No Sir, we’re not looking for an attorney” Bill tells him, “You have the same name as the man that we found dead in a caved in mine out in the desert.”

“Ah! so you’re who found him. I was named after him. He is my Great, Great, Great, grandfather’s brother.”

Olivia continues from the research that she performed the previous day, “They came out in search of gold in 1850, JT. Wilson founded the bank and Henry Wilson was somewhat of a lady’s man who loved the nightlife, then 15 years later in 1865 he just vanished…. Well we now know his fate, but back then they said that he just vanished.”

“You know your history young lady. That’s more than I can say for what taught in the school system around here.”

“History is what I do Mr. Wilson.”

“Keep up the good work. I have to go turn down some loans… I swear these little people get these grand idea and expect us to finance them… Little People!”

Henry Wilson walks out the door and the sheriff turns to Bill and Olivia, ”I do not like that man. In fact nobody does.. and that goes for all of the Wilsons. They are all ancestors of the bank founder JT. Wilson.”

The sheriff puts on a white stetson hat then heads for the door then mentions to Bill and Olivia, “You’re observations are good but remember it has to be relevant to today. If foul play was involved the culprits have been dead for over 100 years. There’s nothing I can do about that. Now, If you have something relevant, come see me.”

****1865 Hadley by a Grave****

Martin Hadley stands next to his mule. In front of him is a grave with a carved wooden plank erected for a tombstone. In his calloused hands he holds his hat as he struggles for the right words to say.

“This is not what was planned. I brought you here in search of a dream, not a dream of abundant wealth but a stable lifestyle would suffice.”

He looks down at his hat and rotates it in his hands.” I was raise that ‘with hard work come great rewards’. The only reward that I was after was having a good life for my family… Well you see where that has taken us….. fifteen years of persistent work has not provide any rewards but rather taken away that which I treasure the most.”

He looks around at the vast spread of the desert, “I’m sorry...so sorry. We should have never come to this place.”

He walks to the mule and from a side pouch pulls out a cross lays it on the ground at the base of the tombstone.

“I believe my time here is done. I have been chasing a fool’s dream for fifteen years and I can be here for another fifteen years and still have nothing but a broken family an abused body to show for it.”

“This was my fault. I should be the one in the grave, not you.”

“He holds back his tears, please forgive me.”

He walks the edge of his claim. There is a 40 foot drop off to a tapering mountain side that continues to a vast desert valley. To the south of the valley is a trail leading to Ragtown.

He ponders in thought while scanning countryside.

****Back  to Prospecting****

Bill and Olivia return to the claim, “Perhaps the sheriff is right. We’re probably spinning our wheels for nothing.”

They begin siting and staking the claim, “ Even if we did find evidence to find a murderer, So What? everybody associated with this event has long since been dead.”

When they reach the top of the ridge, they discover that the the top of the ridge is the actual claim border. Standing at the top of the ridge and looking down they can see fourwheeler tracks from when they found the two bodies.

“Let’s think this through. What if Hadley killed Wilson, planted the confession in the dairy, the cave in occurred and it was Wilson who committed suicide?”

Olivia suggests, “Let’s go down there and visualize what may have happened?”

They ride the fourwheeler around the ledge to its base.

“We have no way of telling who shot who first.”

Look at how much larger the opening is than the rest of the mine. That seems like a lot of extra work.”

Bill notice what looks like boring marks around the opening. “We’re missing something. I can feel it. Something is missing that connects all of the dots and clears up the mysteries but What?”

Olivia tells Bill, “Let’s go back on top and find some gold. This is making my head spin.”

Once on top Bill is standing on the edge looking down, “You ca not see the opening of the mine from here. It’s just under the overhang. Interesting.”

Olivia announces to Bill, “Come quick, Look what found!”

Under a dried out piece of wood Olivia find a cross. On the face down side of the wood they notice some sort of carvings.

“MA#%@ HADLEY BOR? 1825, DIED 18%?”

“This is a grave!” Somebody named Hadley was buried here!” Olivia reacts.

“How can this be? Who can this be?” Bill asks. “We need to read more of the diary.”

Bill walks to the edge of the claim overlooking the site where the bodies were found. “You know on that side of the is Wilson’s claim and on this side is Hadley’s?”

****Confrontation ****
Martin Hadley is still holding back the tears of addressing the grave. He feels like a failure. In his search for gold he has lost so much. He would gladly give up his quest for gold to make things right but it’s too late for that.

Martin’s thoughts are interrupted by clanking metallic noises coming from below him. He can not see anything from his perch on the ridge but he is certain that the noises are coming from below him.

He walks around the ridge to find that in the recesses of an overhang there is a mine shaft burrowing into his claim.

“Wilson!” Hadley yells into the mine, “Are you digging into my claim?”

There is a pause, then a voice is heard from the mine, “Now Hadley, don’t be getting excited. We can work something out after all the hard work is already done.”

Small stones fall from the top of the ridge.

Henry Wilson walks into view and out of the mine with a rifle in his hand, “I’ll be damned if a little man like you is going to ruin what I’ve worked so hard for.”

BAM! a shot is fire and Martin Hadley falls to the ground with a bullet to the head.

Wilson takes a deep breath to relieve the anxiety of what he had to do to protect what he had.

“Well Mr. Hadley, you’re one person that I won’t have to worry about any more.” He picks up his limp arm and drags Hadley’s body to the mine. “I have just the place you. That dry shaft will to perfect place for little people like you.”

****If Not Hadley then Who?****

Olivia takes a trip to the local library where conveniently the librarian happens to also be an historian. They begin talking and before long they librarian has book and maps pulled out everywhere telling of fascinating stories of the town of Fallon and how it evolve from Ragtown.

Olivia makes mention of the bodies found in the mine and the librarian becomes very excited. Nowhere could either of them come up with the Hadley name in Fallon’s/Ragtown’s history.

Olivia makes a discovery in an Internet search. On an family history site ‘Martin Hadley’s’ name appears in Reno, only this Martin Hadley died in 1923 at the age of 73.

Relatively speaking, Reno is short drive from Fallon so Bill and Olivia decide to take a drive. At a Reno library they ask the librarian about genealogy records because they investigating a 160 year old murder case.

A man who overhears the request approaches them and in a whispering tone asks, “Are you referring to a ‘Gold Rush’ case?”

“Yea,” Bill replies, “We’re investigating a murder that took place 160 years ago.”

”My name is Bob Karro, I’m a ‘Gold Rush’ historian and a freelance report for the Reno Globe. If you don’t mind, I’d like to hear more about this murder case.”

They take a seat at a nearby table fill Bob in on the details. He is fascinated. Together they find Mira Hadley’s address and arrange a meeting.

It turns out that Mira Hadley is a family historian, a trait adopted from her husband’s grandmother. Mira and her family live in a poor part of town in a single wide mobile home. There is debris around the front yard and the house is in bad need of repair.

They are greeted at the door by Mira, “Please ignore the mess. Our housekeeper is on vacation,” she jokes.

After introductions are made Mira offers iced tea to help quench the morning heat. They all take seats in mismatched couches, loveseats, and chairs around a coffee table.

If Bill and Olivia has learned anything about genealogist is that they love to talk about their family history.

Mira Begins, “Most of what I have was passed down from my husband’s grandmother and Martin Hadley, who you’re interested in, is her grandfather. I guess that would make him my husband’s Great Great Great Grandfather.”

She takes a sip from her iced tea then continues, “According to Grandma’s manuscripts Martin Hadley was always spouting off in a drunken slur about how he should be rich and how someone stole his gold.”

Bob intervenes, “ Is there mention on gold mines or the gold rush by chance?”

“I don’t think so. Grandma’s writings said that nobody took Martin seriously because the only time he spoke of the subject he was always drunk.”

Bob’s instinct of being a freelance reporter takes over and he is taking notes of everything mentioned.

Thoughts begin processing in Bill’s head, “I wonder if your husband’s Great Great Great Grandfather was actually an imposter who took over Martin Hadley’s identity.”

“Why would you say that?” defends Mira.

“There is a body of Martin Hadley that was shot dead 160 years ago.”

“Are you saying that my husband’s Great Great Great Grandpa murdered Martin Hadley then took his identity?”

“If he did then he killed two people, Henry Wilson and Martin Hadley.”

“That can’t be… he...he was a nice guy when he wasn’t drunk.”

“We don’t know the fact,” Olivia mentions,  “and it’s such an old case we may never know the facts”

“One more thing,” Bill asks, “The genealogy listing said that he died in 1923 at the age of 73?”

****Inconsistent Facts****

On the drive back to Fallon, BIll and Olivia frustrated. The end of the week is approaching fast and the facts are not make sense.  Bill begins working backwards in time and soon Olivia is lost in his numbers.

“Your dad received the deed to the claim in 1978 in at the age of 18 from his great Uncle Whitey who was 78 years old. That means Whitley was born in 1900. In 1920 Whitey was 20 years old when he won the deed to the claim from Hadley who should have been dead for the previous 65 years that should have made him 90 or so years old. I doubt a 90 year old miner lost the poker game. People didn’t live that long back then not to mention a miner who has abused his body digging in the mine all those years.”

“I think the imposter lost the poker game because if he died in 1923 and the age of  73 that made him 70 or so when the poker game occurred.”

“Then there’s the question of how the miners die from straight on shots to the head with the same rifle?”

Bill looks back through the diary, “Huh, this is interesting.” He turns the pages back further, “Huh?”

He opens the bible at looks at the old deed to the claim, “That’s it!”

Bill gets excited, “I have a hunch! We have to get back to the Fallon historian to back up my hunch.”

***End of the week****

Yesterday Bill and Olivia told the sheriff that they have discovered relevant news about the case and would like to share it today in a presentation. They asked that Henry Wilson, the current bank’s attorney , Mira, Bob the historian/freelance reporter, and the Fallon historian be there.

In and conference room at the sheriff’s station Bill and Olivia have prepared a powerpoint presentation. From their college experience they are both very efficient giving presentation using the powerpoint application.

Once everyone is there Olivia begins, “Thank you come coming and we are hoping that you will not find this a waste of your time.”

A slide appears on the screen of two miners, Henry Wilson and a an implied picture of Martin Hadley.

“This is a story of two neighbors in the mid 1850s, Martin Hadley, and and Henry Wilson.”

The slide changes to Henry Wilson and his brother JT. Wilson standing in front of their bank on its opening day.

“Henry Wilson had a brother JT. Wilson who founded the Wilson banking empire.”

Olivia pauses as the slides change to gold prospectors of the 1850s.

“Settlers came from nears and far in search of prosperity ‘gold’ but the trek across the desert was so challenging that those who survived the desert crossing decided to set up in ‘Ragtown’  before moving on. After being settled for a while they discovered that there was gold possibilities right here in Ragtown, which later became your town of Fallon.”

Slide changes to poverty stricken miners.

“By the end of the 2nd year it was evident that the gold that was once here had been leached out of every crack, crevice and waterway by the vultures before them.”

Slides change as she continues, “ As the years passed, despair set in and many dreams died with the reality that gold was not as abundant as it seemed. Despite the shortcomings of others, die-hards were determined to get the gold that they sacrificed so much for.”

Slides of tombstones and exhausted miners flash by.

“Hadley and Wilson were two such people and they happened to have neighboring claims.”

Satellite image show the two claims outlining the borders.

“The border of the two claims lay along this mountain ridge, Hadley’s side of the border was sloped and Wilson’s side is a shear drop off. By 1865, 15 years had passed and neither man had much to show for their sacrifices.”

A slide of the carved plank tombstone from Hadley’s claim is shown with the cross laying upon it.

“The bank ran by Wilson’s brother JT was booming even though the population had dropped considerably. Then Hadley made a significant discovery.

The satellite image is shown again displaying the claim borders.

“Wilson burrowed his mine into the shear drop off, into Hadley’s claim. In the confrontation, both men died. Fallon (Ragtown) history says that Henry Wilson just vanished one day.”

Olivia motions to the Fallon historian, then continues, “Coincidentally! the bank began selling its assets, foreclosing and basically bullying the people of Fallon just as a bank in distress would do.”

Then she asks, “Shouldn’t that have happened a decade before when the gold dried up?”

She takes a breath, then make the following statement, “This tells me that the Wilson banking empire was founded by gold that Henry Wilson was stealing from Martin Hadley’s claim and passing to his brother JT to finance the bank. The bank was founded by stolen gold!”

“This is preposterous announces Henry Wilson from the back of the room.”

“Henry! Hear them out!” orders the sheriff.

Bill takes the podium, “This story, however, does not end here. If the two men died in a duo with matching gunshot wounds to the head,” a slide changes to a picture of the confession, “How was this diary entry made claiming to be Wilson dying words, ‘To be in good graces with God I confess that I killed Martin Hadley and took his gold’?”

“Perhaps as the sheriff implied, Wilson shot Hadley. The shot caused a cave in. Wilson knew that he was going to die, so, rather than slow suffocation he decided to shoot himself but not before writing a confession to clear his conscience, I doubt it. How would Wilson have himself in the head straight on with a rifle?”

“We noticed some strange marking around the opening of the mine where the bodies were found. They were more like drill marks as if explosives were planted, sealing the mine thus mummifying the bodies.”

“Then!... we found the link that puts all of the pieces together, The handwriting of the confession was both different and familiar.”

A slide appears with a split screen, a confession one one half and the signature on the back of deed for the claim on the other half.

“Notice the handwriting in the confession, and the handwriting forfeiting the deed of the claim to Olivia’s father’s great uncle Whitey during a poker game in the year 1920. They are a match.”

“How is it that the handwriting in the diary shows up 68 years later when the deed is lost in a poker game?”

“If not for Hadley being dead, he would have been over 90 years old.”

Bill takes a sip of water.

“Was the person who lost the poker game in 1923 an imposter?”

The audience in the room is becoming more intent.

“An internet search,” Bill continues. “shows a family line listing a ‘Martin Hadley’ in Reno,” he nods to Mira.  “Fortunately they have a family historian who spoke of her husband’s grandmother oke about her grandfather Martin Hadley. While drunk, this Martin Hadley often spoke of being rich, and a man named Wilson stealing gold from his father thus causing them to live in poverty. He was often drunk and not taken very seriously.”

“Then reading back through Hadley’s dairy we discover that Hadley had a son that would have been 15 years old at the time of the confrontation in 1865, and EVERYTHING MADE SENSE.”

The scene fades to 1865, Martin Hadley found out about what Wilson was up to and confronted him at the entrance of the mine. Wilson shot Hadley rather than give up the truth about the gold which founded the bank, BUT they weren’t alone. Hadley’s son witnessed the murder of his father.”

The scene show the son running past his mother’s tombstone while running around the bluff to the lower level of the drop off. The son’s face is bloody bruised and beaten from the schoolyard incident.

“By the time the son arrived,” Bill continues, “Wilson was too busy dragging the body into the mine for disposal in shaft that has gone dry to notice. The son picked up Wilson’s rifle and shot Wilson in the head for what he had done to his father.”

I slide is show of the rifle leaning against the wall of the cave.

“The rifle was still leaning against the wall of the cave 160 years later as seen in this picture. If it were suicide the rifle would not be along the wall.”

“Remember the son was only 15 years old and just witnessed his father being murdered. He wanted to make sure that everybody knew that it was Wilson who killed his father and took the gold so he wrote a confession in Wilson’s diary without considering that the handwriting was not a match.”

Bill points to the slide with the deed and states, ”It took 55 years before that handwriting surfaced when the son of Hadley lost the deed to the claim in a poker game in 1920 to Olivia’s father’s great uncle Whitey.”

“The son was angry with everything. He was all alone because his mother died giving birth to him So before leaving this ugly situation he rigged explosives and blew up the entrance to the mine and sealing the bodies inside.”

“He left for Reno and never came back.”

“This is all speculation,” yells Henry Wilson from the back of the room.

Olivia stepped up, “We thought so too until we read the writings from Martin Hadley granddaughter. That’s Mira’s Husband’s great grandmother. who quoted Martin Hadley’s son stating that ‘his father own a gold mine that was stolen by Henry Wilson to pay for his brother’s bank’. This was written from Martin Hadley granddaughter about her memories of her father in 1939.

Epilogue

• Reno newspaper releases ‘The Tale of Two Neighbors’.

• Wilson’s lose credibility

• Current Hadley’s are given the deed to the claim.

Author's Note

Critiques are welcome. Please have mercy on my dyslexic brain, Thanks.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

First let me apologize becuz this type of historical story is not a big interest for me, so I read the first half & skimmed the second half. This is a little long for one sitting on a website like this. It might be easier for your readers to break it up into 2 or 3 chapters, the next time you post a longer piece like this.

Second, you probably know there are a fair number of typos & grammatical errors, but due to your author's note, I'll just say, the overall writing style is straightforward & strong, so these blips weren't too distracting. Your writing construction is well-done with a good mix of realistic dialogue & current action & historical flashbacks, etc. I know many people would love such a story, if this is their reading interest. Since my memory is shot, I don't follow twists & turns in a longer story that well anymore.

It appears this must represent a considerable amount of research, as well as the toil of writing & weaving a current-day storyline into imaginary historical backstory blips which are well crafted into the twists & turns of your treasure-hunt-like journey. Almost all your details are well thought-out, realistic for the situations, & serve to flesh out this treasure hunt with interesting observations of random things at hand, but not so much description in your asides that it detracts from the main flow of your story.

Here's my main issue with the piece. I've read many actual diaries from various time periods that would be similar to this one & I can say that people just don't talk this way or write journals this way, back in such days of yore. There needs to be a more definite delineation between the way the current story sounds & the way the flashbacks/journal entries sound. I honestly never read a journal where someone wrote out actual back-and-forth dialogue including quotation marks. People's writing skills were generally not that well-polished back in this era. That journal-dialogue stuff is a stretch, but it's a stretch I would give to you anyway, using creative license becuz it enhances the historical flashbacks.

I hope my observations will be ideas for you to tuck away for other future writes, not that this one really needs an overhaul. It's completely well written just the way it is.

[Dave Potter]

Thank you so much, and I value your feedback. I have been told all of my life that my skills in grammar need a lot of improvement. I often do not see errors, even after they are pointed out to me. I wish I knew how to overcome this issue. I have many more stories with great ideas but my lack of ability to write has me reluctant to post them for fear of embarrassment. Any suggestions will be greatly appreciated. Thanks, Dave

[barleygirl]

If you were trying to get your stuff published, then it would be necessary to get an editor to help you clean up the little mistakes. But if you are only writing for pleasure & to share, I would not worry about the little mistakes. That's why I mentioned that it's not major enuf to be distracting as one reads. There are many favorite writers on this website who do not write perfect English. Lots of times writers who do not speak English as a first language have a certain style that's not perfect English, but we who like to read them regularly will get used to their style & after awhile it becomes unnoticeable. Even those who speak English as a first language, but they just don't care to try to do the whole "perfect grammar" thing . . . if what they have to say in their writing is something that people want to read, then the dedicated audience will overlook the errors. I think it's more important to have something solid & interesting to say, than to worry about mistakes. It's just like me & my bad memory or my wobbly legs . . . just something I have to work around & eventually people get used to this aspect of how I am. You've gotta trust your material. It's good.

[Dave Potter]

Thanks, I still hope to improve my skills. Dave