Chapter 4
Lana
“Well, that’s... kind of you,” I said, hesitating before stepping back. “Would you like to come in for a minute?”
As Margret crossed the threshold, Scout’s demeanor changed instantly. His hackles rose, and a low, rumbling growl vibrated through his chest. I stared at him in shock—I’d never heard him make that sound before, not even when I first came to Wolf Creek.
“Scout,” I scolded gently, though my pulse quickened. I’d spent enough time with him to know he was an excellent judge of character. “Sorry about that. He’s usually so friendly.”
Margret’s smile tightened as she eyed the dog warily. “Farm dogs can be protective. No offense taken.”
But he isn’t a farm dog, I thought, but didn’t correct her as he continued growling, positioning himself between Margret and Caleb, who was watching the interaction with sharp interest.
“Those smell delicious,” Caleb said smoothly, breaking the tension as he nodded toward the covered dish. His voice was pleasant, but I noticed how his eyes never left Margret’s face, studying her with the intensity of someone memorizing details.
“Old family recipe,” Margret replied, handing me the dish. The warmth seeped through to my fingers as cinnamon and sugar scents wafted up. “Nothing welcomes folks like homemade treats.”
“Thank you,” I managed, trying to ignore the dog’s persistent growling. I placed the dish on the coffee table, noticing how Margret’s gaze swept across the room, like she was memorizing every detail.
“Well, I won’t keep you,” she said finally, adjusting her coat. “I’m headed into Pinecrest to pick up some supplies before this weather turns. They’re calling for a doozy of a storm tonight.” She glanced between us. “Need anything while I’m in town? Groceries? Medication?”
The casual mention of medication made me wonder if she was fishing for information about Caleb’s injury.
“We’re all set, thanks,” Caleb answered before I could. “Jake stocked us up pretty well before he left.”
Margret nodded, her eyes lingering on his bandaged leg. “Smart man, that Jake. Always thinking ahead.” She turned toward the door, where Scout still stood guard, teeth slightly bared. “Might want to keep that dog inside with the weather coming. Wouldn’t want him to get caught out in it.”
“We’ll do that,” I said, moving to open the door for her.
Margret paused on the threshold. “You two enjoy those rolls now. Nothing like something sweet to make a place feel like home.” With a final forced smile, she stepped out into the cold.
I closed the door firmly behind her, turning the lock with more force than necessary. Through the window, I watched her trudge back to her truck, climb in, and drive away, her taillights disappearing around the bend.
“Well, that was interesting,” Caleb said quietly when I returned to the living room.
Scout had finally stopped growling but remained alert, ears forward as he stared at the door.
“He sure didn’t like her, did he?” I asked, kneeling beside Scout and running my hands through his fur. “I’ve never seen him do that with anyone.”
“Dogs know things we don’t,” Caleb replied, reaching for his phone. “I’m going to check out those coordinates on the map, then call my contact about her. In the meantime—” he nodded toward the cinnamon rolls “—I wouldn’t eat those if I were you.”
I looked at the innocent-looking pastries. “You think she poisoned them?”
“I think we don’t know enough about her to risk it.” Caleb’s expression was grim. “And Scout clearly doesn’t trust her.”
I picked up the dish and headed to the garbage, where I dumped the entire thing, including the dish.
“I’ll just tell her I broke it and will buy a new one,” I said as Caleb just sat there looking at me.
“So, what now? You think she’s connected to the note?
To whatever’s hidden on Jake’s property?
” I asked as I sat down on the couch beside him.
“I think it’s one hell of a coincidence that she showed up twice today, both times fishing for information.” He shifted his weight, grimacing slightly. “And I don’t believe in coincidences.”
I nodded and stood. “I’ll go get the box. Be right back.” I got it from its hiding place and brought it to the coffee table. “We need to figure this out, and fast. Because I have a feeling Margret Holloway will be back, and next time, she might not bring cinnamon rolls.”
Caleb nodded, already opening the box and taking out the map. As he typed the numbers into his phone, he said, “If these locations are what I think they are, we’ve just stumbled into something much bigger than a simple threat to Jake’s farm.”
“And what’s that?” I asked, though I didn’t want to know the answer.
He looked up, his expression deadly serious. “A treasure hunt. Likely one with high stakes.”
I raised my brows at him. “What kind of high stakes?”
“The kind that gets people killed,” Caleb said, his voice low.
“Do you mean like the MacGallan family? Like the mafia?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think it’s organized crime. This is something else.” Absently, he added, “But I’ll check with Declan in a day or two to be sure.”
He turned the notebook toward me, pointing at a series of numbers that didn’t match the coordinates. “These look like surveyor’s markings, and according to Google, Jake’s property sits on what used to be mining land back in the late 1800s.”
I leaned closer, studying the cryptic notations. “You think there’s something valuable underground?”
“Could be. Again, according to Google, the Wolf Creek area was known for copper deposits, maybe some silver too,” Caleb tapped one of the X marks on the map. “These could be mine shaft locations that were never officially recorded.”
“So someone thinks there’s an old mine filled with ore on Jake’s land?” The idea seemed far-fetched, but the intensity in Caleb’s eyes made me pause.
“Or something left behind.” He pulled up an internet search on his phone. “There was a mining dispute here in 1897. The Wolf Creek Mining Company versus several independent prospectors. It got ugly—property destruction, sabotage.”
“That was over a century ago,” I pointed out.
“History has a way of resurfacing. I’m sure there are a lot of locals around here whose families have
been around for generations,” he scrolled through the search results. “According to this local history site, one of the prospectors supposedly hid a significant cache of gold somewhere in the area before he died in a mysterious accident.”
Scout had settled at my feet, but his ears remained perked, alert to any sounds outside. The wind had picked up, whistling around the eaves of the house.
“So you think Jake unknowingly bought property with hidden treasure, and now someone wants to find it before he does?”
“It would explain the note.” Caleb set down his phone. “And Margret’s unusual interest in us.”
I stood up, moving to the window to peek through the curtains. The sky had darkened considerably, heavy clouds promising the snow Margret had mentioned. “We need to check these coordinates before the storm hits.”
“My thoughts exactly.” He reached for his crutches. “But we’ll need supplies. Flashlights, rope, tools.”
“Jake probably has everything we need in his shed,” I said. “I saw some rope when I was feeding the animals in the barn.”
He nodded, struggling to his feet. “I’m coming with you this time. No arguments.”
“Your leg—”
“Will be fine.” His jaw set in a stubborn way that I was beginning to recognize. “Besides, I’m not letting you explore potential mine shafts alone.”
I wanted to argue, but knew it would be pointless. “Fine. But we take it slow, and you tell me if the pain gets too bad.”
“Deal.” He gestured toward the notebook. “Let’s check the closest coordinates first.”
We spent the next hour preparing—gathering supplies, studying the map, and plotting our route. According to the notebook, the nearest marked location was only about a quarter-mile from Jake’s barn, near the creek that gave the valley its name.
As we bundled up against the cold, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched. I kept glancing out the windows, half-expecting to see Margret’s blue pickup returning or shadowy figures lurking among the trees.
“Ready?” Caleb asked, adjusting his coat over his shoulder holster. He’d insisted on bringing his gun despite my discomfort.
I shook my head, clipping Scout’s leash to his collar. “Not at all.”
Outside, the temperature had dropped further, and the wind cut through my layers like icy knives. Caleb moved slowly but steadily on his crutches, his face tight with concentration. I stayed close to his side, ready to catch him or, at the very least, break his fall if he should slip.
“There’s something else bothering me,” I said as we made our way toward Jake’s property. “If this is about some old mining treasure, why now? Jake has owned this land for years.”
“Good question.” Caleb’s breath formed clouds in the cold air. “Maybe someone found new information. Old maps, journals, and something that narrowed down the search area. Or maybe it’s someone who knew all along and is just deciding now to act on it.”
We reached Jake’s barn without incident, though Scout remained vigilant, occasionally stopping to sniff the air or stare intently into the distance. The shed stood adjacent to the barn—a weathered structure with a slanted roof and padlocked door.
“You got the keys?” he asked.
I nodded, fishing the keyring from my pocket, and handed it to him.
The lock clicked open, and he pushed the door. I thought for sure someone would hear the creaking of its rusty hinges; it was so loud that I looked around just to be sure we weren’t being watched.
Inside, the shed was surprisingly well-organized—tools hanging on pegboards, shelves of supplies, and equipment neatly arranged, and in the middle of the floor sat a UTV.
“Jackpot,” Caleb murmured, surveying the contents. “Grab those flashlights, and no need to go to the barn for the rope,” he pointed to a brand-new coil hanging from a nail. “I’ll get the shovel and pickaxe.”
We worked quickly, gathering what we needed. As I reached for a canvas backpack to carry our supplies, my hand brushed against something metallic tucked behind a stack of feed bags covered in a layer of dust.
“Caleb,” I called softly. “Look at this.”
He limped over as I pulled out a metal detector. It looked expensive, with the price tag still attached.
“That’s brand new,” he observed, taking it from me. “Jake isn’t the treasure-hunting type.”
“Maybe he knows more than we thought,” I suggested.
Caleb thumbed the power button, and it turned on immediately.
“I’m surprised the batteries haven’t corroded.
We should take it with us. Might come in handy.
And before we venture further, let’s bed the animals down for the night and grab that — he pointed to the UTV — It has a snowblower attached to it, so it will make this a lot easier than walking. ”