Trail of Treasure

Trail of Treasure: A Romantic Adventure...

"Ahh, Charlotte, my dear." The strained voice of a middle aged man rang out proudly. "You are so very brave. You make me the proudest father in the entire world." The words left the man out of breath. Worse yet, he began to cough of a storm. The man, Hiraim Pemberton, loved a good folktale. Ever since he was a boy, he read all the tall tales and held them to heart. His love was so strong that he even considered them to be real. With all his heart, be believed the treasure was still hidden away just waiting to be found. Even on his deathbed, so to speak, his belief held firm. The old man found his days drastically numbered. He had cancer of the lung and refused treatment. Death would visit him in a number of weeks. The disease left him so frail and sickly that he could not embark on this journey himself. In his place he chose to send his one and only child, a young lady named Charlotte. She too, loved an adventure although she was raised and bred in high society.

"Of course father, dear. I just hope that I don't let you down." The young lady had lugged her own small suitcase down the front steps of her family mansion. "O'Malley's treasure will be ours at long last." She kissed her father's cheeks and hugged him goodbye. "I love you very much and I can't wait for the day I see you again." She spoke those words even though she knew it would not be in this lifetime.

"As do I, Charlie, as do I." The old man responded. With the clearing of his throat, he turned his attention to the group of rough and tough men gathered in the front drive. "Darling, I'd like to introduce you to your crew. They've sworn their lives to both you and I and it is there duty above all to bring you safely back to me."

With this, the patchwork collection of dirty men in raggedy clothes took a wavering step forward. Some looked burly and illiterate, while others looked hungry. The strong workers that Pemberton had removed from his employ for this adventure had apparently been bolstered by a number of idle hands.

Casting their glances about shiftily, the men eyed each other, seeming to wait for a cue. Finally, one of the men, slightly taller and more muscular than the rest, opened his mouth. At first, only a sputter came out. Then, as he spoke in a raspy voice, he gained courage.

"Er, I'm Shanky. I'll be the, uh, foreman, for this venture. I swear upon a mighty oath that I'll deliver us to that treasure. And, uh, Sir," he added, almost as an afterthought, glancing first to Charlotte, then to her father. "We'll be sure to take good care of her."

"Aye, aye," mutter the assortment of crew.

Another of the men, shorter and plumper, with a ruddy complexion and a bushy mustache, looked nervously at Shanky, then spoke. He had a higher-pitched, stuttering voice. "I'll, uh, I'll vouch for that," he said.

Shanky turned to the shorter man and, with a sharp cunning look in his eye, said, "Thank you, Portbrook."

"Well, then, now that that's all settled, we really must be going. It would be a bad omen to start our journey off by missing our departing train." With the snapping of her fingers and the flick of her wrist, Charlotte ordered all the men into line, directing them to finish loading their travel supplies into the carriage. "We have just enough time to get there if we leave now."

Approaching her father, Charlotte gave him a huge and final hug. "I surely will miss you, father. Thank you for this opportunity." With that, she climbed up into her rightful place and they were off. As they were leaving, she leaned out the window and waved widely at the only family that she had.

Things were a blur of a bustle at the train station. The group only have a few mere moments to unload all their baggage and then re-load it onto the train. They were taking the train to the end of the rail, a place truly in the middle of nowhere. From there, they would start a caravan, following the maps drafted up by Mr. Pemberton. It was going to be a long, trialsome, and tiring journey, but the pay off would be marvelous. To help all the members truly ready themselves, the Pemberton's rented a private room for every two people. Unfortunately, there were an odd number of men, so one was stuck with the young lady. Shanky had that honor.

"So, how did you get mixed up in this wild and crazy adventure?" Charlotte asked as she unpacked the things she would need for the train journey.

"Well, lassie, that goes back a ways," Shanksy says, pulling out a huge long sigh like he was savoring a beer. A twinkle seems to light up in his eye, while his face clouds over.

"Back then, in the old days," he seems to pause while tying to figure out how long ago, without knowing numbers. "Fence and I." Shanky pauses, seeing the confusion on Charlotte's face. "That's your father, we used to call him that."

"Go on."

"Fence and I, we had a link." Shanky sighs again. "When we were boys, we used to go out playing, in the river. One day, an ordinary day, like today or any other, we were down climbing around by where the vines grow. He swung out over the water. Vine snapped. He didn't know how to swim, a'course. None of us did."

"What happened?"

"I saved his life. Just about lost my own, I reckon. Anyways, ever since then Fence has looked out for me. He used to sneak me a piece of bread now and then. And when he came into money, he made sure I knew I would always have a job."

Charlotte looked at him with her head tilted a little bit sideways.

Suddenly Shanky became much more serious, almost threatening. "Look, Missy. There's more that happened. But I don't tell just anyone, not even Fence's little lassie. And if you're smart, you won't go talking about much, either. Understand?"