Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
C heyenne
Cheyenne wasn’t entirely sure how she’d ended up driving to Wilmington with Micah, but it felt surprisingly comfortable. The old truck hummed steadily as country music played from the speakers. Micah had his window down, resting one arm on the sill, and eventually she mimicked him, letting the breeze tug at her fingers. It struck her as funny—being with Micah reminded her a lot of being with her brothers.
Their conversation stayed light as they drove, but when they reached town, Micah slowed the truck and glanced at her. “So, where are we going?”
Cheyenne hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “There’s a church I wanted to see. It’s the one my brother Chance used to visit here in Wilmington. If you go about a mile down this road, it’s on the left.”
She was tracking it on her phone, clutching her father’s journal in her lap. She didn’t know exactly what she was hoping to find at the church, but something told her they might have missed an important piece of the puzzle.
When they reached the church, Micah pulled the truck into the parking lot and cut the engine. He turned to her. “All right, what now?”
Cheyenne exhaled, reluctant to share too much. “You probably know about all the symbols tied to the gold.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “The palm tree on the first gold piece Trey’s parents left behind; the broken arrow that’s all over your ranch; the skulls; and, of course, the painting of the ship we got from Kentucky. Your family didn’t seem to mind us keeping that back at the inn.”
Cheyenne snapped her fingers. “Right—the painting. That was part of the mess with Ed Peters and Eden’s art gallery. I almost forgot your family ended up with it.”
Micah smirked. “Yeah, because your family didn’t bother telling us you were going into Kentucky. My uncles might forgive your family, but they don’t trust you.”
She pointed at him with a grin. “Hence why you’re here.”
“Fair point.” He nodded toward the church. “So you’re checking out symbols in the church, but you’re not looking for gold, right?”
She shrugged. “You already promised that whatever happens stays between us.”
“But you’re not looking for gold, right?” he insisted.
She worried she needed to send him away. “Uh, sure. How about you just go and I’ll take an Uber back?”
He just stared at her.
“You promised whatever happens stays between us.”
He threw up a hand. “Right, like if you kissed me or something, that would stay between us, but … what are we doing here?”
“Kiss you?” she sputtered.
Micah smirked. “Is that so out of grasp?”
Cheyenne got out of the truck, marching toward the church.
He followed. “Wait a second.”
She spun on him. “Go back to South Port. Call your family, report on what you have to, and check in on me another time.”
“No way.”
She scowled. “I need to do this.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s my turn.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
Cheyenne bit her lip. It was time to trust him—at least partially. “Listen, my brothers leave me out of most things, which is fine. But my father passed away when I was sixteen. I was sixteen, and I miss him, and this … this was something that he kept from all of us. I just need to do this. I need to do it for me. For my father. I…I probably sound ridiculous, but I need to do this.”
Micah looked at her for a long moment. “You don’t sound ridiculous.”
She met his gaze, and her heart raced. Did he really want to kiss her? She pushed the thought away. “I don’t?”
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
Then Micah reached out and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “You can trust me.”
She looked at his hand, then pulled hers back. “For the week? You won’t report that I’m looking for gold?”
He nodded. “I won’t. On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
His lip tugged up. “I want to be part of it. Complete transparency.”
Cheyenne sighed. “Okay, but you gave me a spit handshake. Don’t forget that.”
“I won’t.”
Opening her father’s journal, she pointed to a hand-drawn picture of the church. “Holy Trinity Church,” she said, her voice soft. “My dad drew this, and at the bottom, he included these little skulls.”
Micah took the journal gingerly, studying the sketch. “Okay … I don’t recognize the skulls, though.”
Cheyenne took the notebook back and gazed at the church. “I did some research. This church is one of several in South Carolina built with catacombs underneath. Slave-owning families buried their loved ones in tidy coffins down there, but the enslaved people were often buried in unmarked graves alongside them.”
Micah grimaced. “That’s awful.”
She nodded. “Look at the crest my dad drew here—the eagle surrounded by palm trees. That same crest was on the painting recovered in Kentucky.”
Micah studied the notebook again, frowning. “You’re right. I see that crest on the wall every day back at the inn where all the treasure-hunting stuff is displayed. I never thought much of it.”
Cheyenne’s heart raced. “What if there’s something beneath this church? Something connected to the gold?”
Micah shook his head; she could see he was still processing this. “We’ve always assumed we know where the gold went—through my family to yours, then out into the market through people like Ms. Connie and Kelly Hamilton’s parents. But you’re saying there might be more?”
Cheyenne waved her hands. “Exactly. We know my dad and your grandfather melted down twenty bars of gold and laundered the coins, but what if there’s more? What if they purposely hid some of it?”
Micah tugged at a piece of his hair, a habit that made him look unexpectedly boyish. His sparkling brown eyes met hers, and he smiled. “So you think they left a bigger cache of gold hidden somewhere—possibly here?”
Cheyenne felt a thrill at being taken seriously for once. “Yes! I’ve tried telling my brothers my theories, but they’ve always been too focused on the missile silos or Ed Peters or Mr. Banks. I don’t think anyone’s ever truly pieced together what my father and your grandfather were doing. Sure, they melted down twenty bars of gold, but that doesn’t mean that was all of it. What if they wanted to keep the rest hidden, safe?”
Micah was running a hand over his chin now, deep in thought. “It would make sense. Everyone assumes the gold was always together—this massive treasure hoard. But maybe it wasn’t. Maybe there was more, and they intentionally kept it small, splitting it up to avoid detection.”
Cheyenne couldn’t help but laugh, a mix of nerves and excitement. She gestured toward the church. “So … want to figure out how to get into the catacombs?”
Micah let out a long breath, then grinned. “I’m guessing you have a plan?”
Her mouth was dry, but she nodded. “Most churches have stairs beneath the altar leading to the crypts. It probably hasn’t been opened in years, though. We’ll have to be careful. If anyone asks what we’re doing …”
Micah smirked, holding out his hand. “Stick with me. I’ve got an idea.”
Cheyenne placed her hand in his, feeling a strange sense of comfort. Their eyes met, and she knew she was in trouble. Big trouble. Because falling for Micah Jamison was the last thing she needed.