Chapter Three
Standing in the dusty basement, Rod surveyed the untouched contents of the opened trunk. A horse blanket guarded the mysterious treasure. He glanced at Wyl. “Let’s take the trunk upstairs. It's too dirty down here to unload the trunk.”
“Good idea, babe.” Wyl lowered the lid on the potential treasure. “You grab your end and follow me up the stairs.”
Wyl tilted the trunk until Rod slid his hands underneath before picking up his end. They climbed, boots clomping on one step at a time, Wyl pulling and Rod pushing as they made their way up.
Wyl backed into the dining room on the ground floor with Rod following. Rod took Wyl’s cue, and they set the trunk on the floor at the end of the long dining table,
“Whew, lugging the trunk was harder than I thought.” Wyl tugged a handkerchief out of his back pocket to wipe his brow. “You want a beer? I’ll grab us a couple of cold bottles.”
“Sure, babe. Thanks.” Rod tugged his handkerchief out of his pocket and ran it across his forehead, eying the trunk.
Wyl came in and handed him a bottle. “Let’s unfold what mysteries this old trunk holds.”
Rod lifted the lid and gazed at the saddle blanket.
He set his beer bottle on the table, then slid one hand under the blanket, one on top, and lifted it out.
Loose items within the folded blanket shifted and fell to the dining table.
He laid the blanket on the table and gazed at the fallen objects: a book and a couple of small, faded green cardboard folders.
“What do you suppose those are?” Wyl nodded toward the cardboard objects.
“I’m not sure. Photographs?” Rod picked up the book. “And this may be a diary or a ledger or something.” He laid it back on the table and picked up one of the green folders. On the back, Joey written with a pencil. He opened to a picture of a handsome young man.
Wyl leaned over with a hand on Rod’s shoulder. “I wonder who Joey was?”
“I don’t know.” Rod closed the folder and picked up the other one. On the back, Felix written in pencil. Rod opened the folder. Another handsome young man stared back at them.
“Felix.” Wyl squeezed Rod’s shoulder. “Your middle name.”
Rod nodded, closed the folder, and laid it on the table. “I bet this trunk contains more information about my ancestor Felix. Let’s dig for what other treasures lay underneath.”
Wyl lifted a pair of stiff leather boots from the trunk. “These are well-worn, like those of a working cowboy.” Wyl placed them on the table. “I guess them to be about your size.”
“I’m not putting those on,” Rod said. He placed a hand under a pile of folded clothing, his other hand on top as he lifted the items out of the trunk.
He set them on the table, then separated each piece.
"A shirt, a pair of pants, and a pair of drawstring boxers.” He stroked the fabric.
A sense of history flowed through his fingers, accompanied by the scent of age.
This clothing belonged to someone memorable.
A long-deceased child of his great-grandfather, perhaps?
“And a hat.” Wyl lifted a worn gray cowboy hat. Crushed from the weight of the other items, with stains around the sweatband.
“What’s this at the bottom?” Rod lifted the metal objects for closer inspection. “Two horseshoes. Odd. What do you suppose made them memorable enough to save?”
“I’m not sure.” Wyl nodded toward the faded red book on the table. “Do you think the book has the answers?”
The old horseshoes clinked as Rod laid them on the table.
He pulled out a chair, sat, and picked up the book.
As he opened it, the binding crackled. The yellowed pages smelled musty.
He turned the first page, revealing beautiful script handwriting in pencil at the top of the second page, The Diary of Felix Bonner - 1898.
Wyl read over Rod’s shoulder, his arms crossed on Rod’s shoulders.
“Felix, your ancestor, wrote this old book.” Wyl pondered.
“We might learn about the guy in the other photograph, Joey.” Wyl tugged at Rod’s shoulder.
“Let’s sit in the living room. We can be comfortable and find out more from Felix Bonner. ”
“Good idea,” Rod said.
They settled on the tufted leather couch shoulder-to-shoulder. Rod took a draw of his beer, opened the book, and turned the page.
Five days ago, Father and I discussed my intentions for Emmaline Crabtree.
He thinks she would make an ideal wife. An opinion with which I disagree.
I wanted to attend college, but he says college is for sissies, and learning to be a man would do me more good.
The result was his decision to send me to Sterling Ranch for the summer.
Mr. Sterling brought me out today, and I met Mrs. Sterling and their son, Joey.
The Sterlings seem friendly, but I’m not sure I’ll take to ranching.
“Joey Sterling.” Wyl elbowed Rod. “I suppose Joey is short for Joseph, my middle name. Hmmm, Felix and Joey. Wouldn’t it be weird if…” Wyl stopped and grinned. “Nah…it would be too much of a coincidence.”
“This old diary is about Felix and Joey. I bet Joey is the ancestor of your middle name, Joseph. It's obvious our ancestors developed a relationship long before us.” Rod nudged Wyl in the ribs. “What are the chances of us meeting and marrying a century later?”
“Do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do,” Wyl’s rendition of the Twilight Zone theme floated through the air.
“Shut up.” Rod chuckled.
Wyl put his arm around Rod’s shoulders. “This is more than interesting, Rod. It’s uncanny. More than 100 years later, we get together and discover our ancestors knew each other.”
“Let’s find out.” Rod turned the page.