TREASURE

by Susan

"Sure is nice to be able to work at our own speed,” commented Joe Cartwright as he stretched out on the sofa and rested his feet on the table in front of the stuffed piece of furniture. “This has almost been a vacation with Pa and Adam gone.”

“Enjoy it while you can, little brother,” answered Hoss Cartwright from the red leather chair near the fireplace. “I expect that the pace will pick up considerably once Pa gets home.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that,” Joe agreed ruefully. He turned his head toward the kitchen. “What’s Hop Sing doing in there? All we wanted was a couple of sandwiches.”

“I don’t know,” Hoss said, frowning. “But if I don’t eat something soon, I’m going to fall right over.” Hoss turned to look toward the kitchen also. “Hey, Hop Sing!” he shouted. “Where’s our sandwiches? We’re starving out here.”

As if waiting for the summons, Hop Sing scurried out of the kitchen, carrying a tray piled high with sandwiches as well as a coffee pot and two cups. “Hop Sing need to make many sandwiches,” he said curtly as he approached the sofa and chair. “Otherwise, Mr. Hoss not get enough and Little Joe get nothing.”

“Well, it looks like you made just about the right number,” Hoss replied, reaching forward to take the tray from the Chinese cook’s hands.

But Hop Sing stopped and pulled the tray back away from the arms stretched toward him. “Sons not work hard when father gone,” he scolded. “You eat fast then go back to work.”

“Hop Sing, we’ve done most of the things Pa told us to do,” said Joe in a tolerant tone.

“You fix fence? You check cattle?” asked Hop Sing.

“And cleaned the barn and whitewashed the hen house,” Hoss added. “Now give me that tray before I faint from hunger.”

“Ah, very good,” said Hop Sing, handing the tray to the biggest Cartwright. “Sons work hard .Father will be pleased.” Suddenly, the cook frowned. “Take feet off table,” he ordered Joe.

“All right,” agreed Joe with a sigh. He sat up and put his feet on the floorboards. Hop Sing waited until Joe’s boots were firmly sitting on the wooden surface. Then the cook sniffed and shuffled back to the kitchen.

“You’d think I was 2 instead of 22,” grumbled Joe. “Hop Sing can be worse than Pa.”

“Yeah, but he sure does make good sandwiches,” Hoss said. He piled one of the sandwiches on top of another, then brought them to his mouth. Opening his mouth wide, Hoss took a large bite out of both with one snap of his jaw.

Watching his brother almost inhale the two sandwiches, Joe shook his head and commented dryly, “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m hungry,” Hoss protested as he continued to chew.

“Watch out you don’t eat one of my fingers by mistake,” said Joe as he snatched a sandwich from the tray.

“Naw, they’re too tough to chew,” answered Hoss with a grin.

The Cartwright brothers ate in companionable silence for a time, with Hoss downing six sandwiches while Joe managed to get his hands on two. The coffee cups were filled from the pot and drained almost as quickly as the black liquid was poured. Only one sandwiches was left on the tray when the men heard a loud rap on the front door.

"I’ll get it,” said Joe, rising.

"I’ll just finish this up in the meantime,” Hoss remarked, reaching for the last remnants of the meal.  “It wouldn’t be polite to eat in front of company.”

“Just remember it’s also not polite to eat the company,” commented Joe as he walked toward the front door.

Pulling open the door, Joe saw a man about 30 standing on the porch, wearing a battered hat to cover his short cropped brown hair. The same brown hair grew on the man’s face in a neatly trimmed mustache and beard. His gray shirt was tucked into a pair of faded black pants ringed by a worn tan gunbelt.

“Hi Pete,” Joe greeted the man, a bit surprised. “Come on in.”

“Thanks, Joe,” replied the man.

“Who is it?” called Hoss from across the room.

“Pete Dawson,” Joe answered back to his brother. He turned to Dawson. “I’d offer you a sandwich but Hoss decided he’d better store up on food in case of a blizzard.”

“In July?” said Dawson with a grin as he followed Joe into the house. He was familiar with the Cartwright brothers gentle teasing of each other.

“You never know,” Hoss replied with a wide smile. “We’ve had some funny weather this year. A man can’t be too careful.” Dawson laughed as Joe shook his head.

“Come in and sit down,” Joe said. “I can at least offer you a cup of coffee.”

“No, thanks,” replied Dawson as he moved to sit on the sofa. “I’m fine.”

“What can we do for you, Pete?” asked Joe, lowering himself to sit on the wide ledge in front of the fireplace.

“Is Adam around?” asked Dawson. “I wanted to talk with him.”
 

“He’s in Carson City with Pa, negotiating with the railroad on a lumber contract,” explained Joe. “He’ll be back in a couple of days, by the end of the week at the latest.”

Disappointment showed on Dawson’s face. “That’s too long,” he said, shaking his head.

“Is there something we can help you with?” Hoss asked.

Rubbing his bearded chin, Dawson thought for a moment. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I got this paper that I was hoping Adam could explain to me.”

“What kind of paper?” asked Joe.

“Well, supposedly it leads to a treasure,” Dawson answered.

“A treasure map?” exclaimed Hoss. “Where’d you get that?”

“Won it in a poker game,” replied Dawson. “Only it ain’t a map. It’s kind of a code or something. I read it, but it don’t make any sense to me. I thought maybe Adam might be able to figure it out.”

“Adam and Pa will be back by Saturday for sure,” said Joe. “Why don’t you come back then.”

“I can’t wait that long,” Dawson stated, shaking his head. He saw the surprised look on the Cartwrights’ faces. “It’s kind of a long story, but I need some money fast. And I have to be in Texas by the end of the month with it. That means I have to leave real soon.”

“You want to come to work for us for a couple of days?” Hoss asked. The offer wasn’t a casual or unusual one. Dawson was a cowboy turned prospector. Whenever he ran short of money, he worked for the Cartwrights for awhile, herding cattle or fixing fences. At the same time, whenever the Ponderosa was short of hands, the Cartwrights knew they could count on Dawson to help them out for a time. It was an arrangement that suited everyone and benefited both sides.

"Thanks, Hoss, but a couple of days pay won’t be enough,” answered Dawson. He sighed. “I knew this treasure thing probably wouldn’t work out, but I had to try.” Noting the curious expressions on the face of Joe and Hoss, Dawson went on. “I need $635 to give to my sister in Texas so she and her kids won’t get kicked off their ranch.”

“That’s a fair amount of money,” commented Hoss.

"Yeah, it is,” agreed Dawson. He shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. “Look, I’d better tell you the whole story. My sister and her husband have this ranch just outside of Fort Worth. They were doing all right – built up the place, started a family and so on. But then her husband decided he wanted to make the ranch into a real large homestead. He borrowed some money from the bank to buy land and cattle.”

“And now he can’t pay it back,” stated Joe sympathetically.

“Yeah,” Dawson said. “I don’t know exactly what happened – drought or maybe rustlers. But anyway, they weren’t able to sell as many cattle as they thought or get the price they were counting on.”

“Can’t they ask the bank to wait a bit?” Hoss asked.

“Well, it’s not just the bank they owe,” explained Dawson. “There’s some taxes due too. My brother-in-law got pretty desperate, and then he did something real stupid. He robbed a Wells Fargo office.”

“And he got caught,” Joe finished for Dawson.

“He got caught,” Dawson agreed. “The judge gave him two years. It would have been worse only my brother-in law took just what he needed. There was over $5,000 in that safe, but he only took about $700.”

“Still, Wells Fargo probably didn’t look kindly on being robbed,” Hoss said.

“No, they didn’t,” Dawson stated. “I guess the judge went easy on him because he didn’t take all the money, but that don’t really matter. My sister and her three kids are all by themselves, and they’re going to lose their home unless somebody helps them.”

“And you’re that somebody,” said Hoss. “But Pete, over $600? That’s a lot of money.”

“I got most of it,” Dawson answered. “I sold my claim for $200. It isn’t worth much more than that. I never got more than about $50 a month out of it, sometimes less. Anyway, I took $100 of that money and got into a high stakes poker game at the Silver Dollar.”

“That was pretty risky, wasn’t it,” Joe said. “You could have lost the money pretty quick.”

“It was a gamble,” agreed Dawson. He smiled briefly at his pun. “But I figured if I lost it, I’d still have $100 to get to Texas and see what I could do to help my sister. And if I got lucky, maybe I’d win enough to pay her bills for her.”

“How’d you do?” asked Hoss, curious.

“I won about $500, but then I started losing so I decided to quit,” answered Dawson. “With the $100 I held back, I’ve got $510.”

“And a treasure map,” added Joe.

 “And a treasure map,” Dawson stated. “This fellow I was playing with, he got cleaned out. He put up this paper to cover his bet.”

 “Pete, you don’t really think this paper will lead you to a treasure do you?,” asked Joe in a dubious voice. “Don’t you think this fellow would have collected the treasure by now?”

“Well, that’s what I thought until I saw the paper,” replied Dawson. “Like I said, it ain’t a map. It’s directions to the treasure, but it’s written in a code or riddle or something. This fellow couldn’t figure it out so he couldn’t find the treasure.”

“And you thought you could?” asked Joe, a bit surprised.

“I wasn’t sure,” admitted Dawson. “But I thought it was worth a try.” He grinned. “Besides, I knew I had him beat. Four aces. Prettiest hand I ever did see.”

“Did this fellow say where he got this paper?” Hoss asked. “Maybe it’s a phony.”

“If it’s a phony, then someone went to a lot of trouble,” Dawson replied. “But according to this fellow, he got the paper from old Jim Bridger himself.”

“The mountain man?” said Hoss in surprise.

“The same,” stated Dawson. “Story is that, a long time ago, Bridger found a man in the woods with an arrow wound. Bridger took the man back to his place and tried to help him, but the man died. Before he died, though, the fellow told Bridger about the paper and gave it to him.”

“Did Bridger know who he was?” Joe asked, his curiosity piqued.

“No,” answered Dawson. “The fellow was hurt bad and couldn’t talk much. He also was out of his head with fever a lot. According to the story, the man rambled on about a treasure and how he was the only one who knew where it was. He begged Bridger to take the paper and find it so it wouldn’t be lost. Then the fellow died.”

"And Bridger never followed the directions?” Hoss said, surprised.

“Bridger could barely read and write his name,” explained Dawson. “He couldn’t make heads or tails of what was on the paper. So he just kept it. Bridger showed it to the fellow in the poker game a few months before he died, and this fellow said Bridger gave him the paper.”

“Or the fellow stole it,” commented Joe.

“Could be,” Dawson agreed. “Anyway, I won the paper, hoping maybe I could figure it out and get the rest of the money I needed. Only it don’t make any sense to me either. Your brother Adam, though, he’s real smart. Been to college and everything. I thought maybe Adam could figure it out for me.”

“Could I see the paper?” asked Joe. “Maybe I could figure it out.”

“Sure,” said Dawson. He reached into the pocket of his shirt and pulled out a paper yellowed with age and folded into a small square. Dawson opened the document carefully and extended it toward Joe.

Getting up from his perch on the fireplace ledge, Joe walked a few steps to take the paper. The ink of the writing was faded and barely legible. Frowning a bit, Joe read the writing aloud:

                Where the sky turns to water, look to the setting sun

                See the white haired mothers reaching toward the clouds

                At the foot of the smallest mother, lovely dryads frolic
                Hiding the passage from dark to light

                Follow the path of playful Pan

                Until mighty Poseidon’s scepter is etched in granite

                Turn to the nymphs aligned against the wind

                The zither’s sound will lead to great Ida’s immovable presence

                When the fiery chariot starts its descent

                The shade of the rood will show the pit of darkness

                Lift the flinty cover carved with holy letters

                And find the treasure more precious than gold

Looking up, Joe glanced at Hoss. He could see the puzzled expression on his brother’s face and was sure his face looked the same. “This doesn’t make any sense,” Joe said, turning back to Dawson.

“Well, not a lot,” agreed the man. “I spent some time thinking about it, and I figure the first line means Lake Tahoe. The lake is about as blue as the sky. And the setting sun is west. But after that, I couldn’t make any headway with it.”

“White haired mothers,” said Hoss thoughtfully. “What was that line again, Joe?”

“ ’White haired mothers reaching toward the clouds’ “ Joe read.

“That could mean mountains,” said Hoss. “There’s mountains west of the lake.”

“And there’s something at the foot of the smallest mountain,” added Joe in an excited voice. He read the paper again, and his expression turned to one of dismay. “But what’s a dryad?”

All three men were silent for a minute as they searched their minds for an answer. Finally, Hoss shook his head. “I got no idea what that means.”

“You fellows got further along than I did,” Dawson admitted. “I could only figure out the first line.”

“I bet Adam knows what a dryad is,” asserted Joe. “Couldn’t you wait until he gets back?”

“Nope, I have to leave for Texas in a few days if I want to get there on time,” answered Dawson, shaking his head. “It’s a long ride.” 

“You didn’t give yourself much time,” Hoss commented in a surprised voice.

“I figured on a day for Adam to work out what’s on the paper, then another day or two to find whatever it led to,” answered Dawson. “I know it’s not much time, but that’s all the time I’ve got.” A woeful expression crossed his face. “I got all but $125 of the money I need. I can pay the taxes and give the bank some of what it’s owed. Maybe that will work.”

“Pete, why don’t you let us lend you the rest,” suggested Joe. “Pa knows you’re good for it.”

“I appreciate the offer, Joe, but no,” stated Dawson firmly. “The money the bank wants is only part of what’s owed. The rest is due in six months. If I borrowed from your Pa, I’d be owing both him and the bank, and I just can’t see doing that.”

“Aw, Pete, Pa wouldn’t expect you to pay it back right away,” Hoss said. “You can pay us when you get the ranch back on its feet.”

“No,” said Dawson again, his voice even firmer than before. “I know you mean well, Hoss, but I ain’t no charity case. If I can’t make a deal with the bank, we’ll sell up and move my sister and her  kids someplace else.” He smiled to soften his words. “I’ll work things out, Hoss. Don’t worry.”

Studying the paper in his hands, Joe looked thoughtful. “Pete,” he said slowly, “how much would you sell this paper for?”

“Sell the paper?” Dawson said in surprise. “You want to buy it? Why would you want to do that?”

“Because once Adam gets home, I’ll bet he can figure out the rest of this,” stated Joe. “I bet we could find the treasure.”

“Maybe,” agreed Dawson. “But I wouldn’t sell it to you. The Cartwrights have been good friends, and besides, it ain’t going to do me any good now. You can have it for free.”

 “No,” said Joe in a voice as firm as Dawson’s had been. “If we find the treasure, we want it to be because we bought this fair and square. We wouldn’t feel right about the treasure if someone just handed the directions to us.” He grinned. “The Cartwrights don’t take charity either.”

"Well, the fellow in the poker game put it up to cover a $50 bet,” Dawson mused. “So $50 would be about right.”

"I think it’s worth more than that, don’t you, Hoss?” remarked Joe. “I think this is worth $150.”

"What?” Hoss said, startled. “Oh, yeah. It’s worth at least that.”

“That’s way too much,” protested Dawson. “You may not be able to figure it out, or it could lead to nothing.”

“Or it could lead to a treasure,” answered Joe. “I think $150 is a small price to pay for…” He glanced down at the paper. “…a treasure more precious than gold.”

“If you’re sure you want to pay that, I’ll take it,” said Dawson in a hesitant voice. “But I don’t think it’s worth it.”

“I do,” Joe stated. He handed Hoss the yellowed document, then crossed the room toward the den. Walking behind the desk at the back of the den, Joe pulled open a drawer. He grabbed a small paper sheet from the drawer, then sat at the desk. “I’ll write a draft for the money,” explained Joe, reaching for a pen. “The bank will cash it with my signature on it.”

“I sure do thank you boys,” Dawson said, his gratitude evident. “That money will cover the rest of  what my sister owes and gives me a little extra for supplies or whatever else my sister might need. It’s a big help.”

Finished writing, Joe waved the draft in the air to dry the ink. “It’s us that should be thanking you,” he said. “It’s not often that we get a chance to buy directions to a treasure.”

“Yeah, we ain’t been on a good treasure hunt in a long time,” added Hoss in a voice that was a bit too eager. He looked down quickly when he saw Joe scowling.

“Here’s your money,” Joe announced as he walked from the den. Dawson stood and took the paper from Joe’s hand. He looked at it briefly, then folded the sheet and put it in his shirt pocket.

"Listen, I’d appreciate it if you’d tell your Pa and Adam about all this,” Dawson said.

“Don’t worry,” replied Hoss, giving Joe a pointed look. “I’m sure Joe is going to be happy to explain things to Pa.” Once more, Joe threw a scowl at his older brother.

“Tell them I said good-bye,” Dawson continued. “And that I’m sorry I won’t be here to help with the fall round-up.”

“We’ll miss you, Pete,” Joe said with genuine regret. “It won’t be the same without you around here.”

“Good luck to you and your sister,” added Hoss, offering his hand to Dawson. “If you get a chance, let us know how things turn out.”

“I’ll do that,” Dawson agreed. He shook Hoss’ hand and then Joe’s. “Once I’m settled, I write and let you know where I am.” His lips formed into a small smile. “I’m kind of curious to see how you make out with that paper.”

“I am, too,” Hoss said, giving his younger brother another pointed look. “I’m real anxious to see what happens once Pa and Adam get home.”

***********

The soft rays of the morning sun bathed Pete Dawson in a pale light as he exited the bank. Anxious to be on his way to Texas, Dawson had been one of the bank’s early customers, trading the Cartwright bank draft and his own wad of bills for a new draft in his name. Outside the bank, the cowboy turned prospector stopped for a moment to read the slip of paper from the bank again, a bit proud that he was smart enough not to carry a large amount of cash with him to Texas.

“Dawson! Hey, Dawson!”

Hearing his name shouted, Dawson hastily folded the draft and put it in his shirt pocket, resolving to find a safer place for it later. Then he turned to look at the source of the shouts. Recognizing the loud voice, he wasn’t surprised to see two men coming down the sidewalk toward him.

The man calling Dawson’s name was a heavy-set cowboy, with thick black hair and bushy eyebrows, dressed in mostly in black. A light colored checked shirt contrasted his dark hat, vest,  pants and gunbelt. Bart Peterson thought the black clothes added a touch of menace to his looks. In contrast, his companion – a tall, thin man named Hank Jones – seemed not to care how he looked. His light blue shirt appeared to have been hastily stuck into the waistband of his brown paints. The shirt and pants were lightly dotted with dirt, as was the blue bandanna tied carelessly around his neck. Only his tan holster and polished pistol seemed clean.

“Dawson! Hold up a minute!” Peterson called as the two men hurried down the street.

“What do you want, Peterson?” asked Dawson cautiously when the two men stopped near him.

“We heard down at the saloon about that treasure map you won in the poker game,” Peterson answered. He tried to flash a smile, but the barred teeth merely added to his menacing look. “Hank and I thought we would offer to help you look for the treasure.”

“Why would I want your help?” Dawson asked, his suspicion growing.

"You could use someone to help you dig, guard the treasure, that sort of thing,” answered the dark clothed man, trying to sound friendly. “Hunting treasure can a bit lonely, not to mention dangerous. We thought you might want someone along to watch your back.”

More likely someone to shoot me in the back, thought Dawson. Peterson and Jones were known as two men who tried to accumulate money with as little effort as possible. He was relieved that he wasn’t going to have to deal with them. “Sorry to disappoint you fellows, but I’m not going treasure hunting.”

“You’re not?” Jones said in surprise.

“Nope,” stated Dawson. “I’m leaving for Texas right away.” He glanced toward a horse tied to the hitching post in front of the bank to emphasize his point. The animal was carrying a thick bedroll and the saddlebags draped over its flanks were bulging. “Got to be there by the end of the month to help my sister out of some trouble.”

After exchanging a look with his partner, Peterson said in a sly tone, “Well, if you ain’t going to do anything with that map, maybe we could look for the treasure for you. We’d give you a share of anything we find.”

“It’s not a map, boys,” explained Dawson, who knew full well he would have never seen a penny from his would-be partners. “It’s more like directions, only written in a code or something. I couldn’t figure it out, and I doubt if you boys would be able to either.”

“We’d be willing to give it a try,” offered Peterson in a hopeful voice. “Give us the paper and we’ll see what we can do with it.”

“Sorry, I can’t do that,” Dawson answered, trying to hide a note of satisfaction. “I already sold it to the Cartwrights.”

“The Cartwrights!” exclaimed Jones. “What do they want with it? They already got more money than anyone in Nevada.”

“Didn’t ask them,” said Dawson, shrugging. “Anyway, Adam Cartwright is probably the only one who could figure out what it means. Might as well sell it to somebody who might actually be able to understand it.”

Abruptly, the cowboy turned to his horse. “Look, I’ve got to get going. You boys take care.” Quickly, Dawson untied the reins of his horse from the rail and climbed into the saddle. He turned his mount from the bank and kicked the animal into a fast trot.

As he rode out of down, Dawson looked over his shoulder and saw the two men on the sidewalk were still staring at him. He decided that he’d better keep off the trail and cover his tracks until he was well away from Virginia City. The two men watching him were not above bushwhacking a lone traveler.

"What are we going to do now, Bart?” Jones asked, turning his attention away from Dawson. “The Cartwrights ain’t going to let us help them find that treasure.”

“I’m thinking,” snapped Peterson. He stared off into space for a minute. “You know, Hank,” he said slowly, “I wasn’t sure that story about a treasure was true. But if the Cartwrights are willing to pay good money for that map, there must be something to it. The Cartwrights aren’t fools.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t help us any,” complained his partner.

“Not right away,” Peterson acknowledged. “But let’s keep our eyes and ears open. We hear anything about the Cartwrights taking an unexplained trip, we might just want to follow them.”

“And get to the treasure before them?” Jones asked eagerly.

“Now how could we do that, since we don’t know where they’re going?” answered Peterson, his voice tinged with disgust. “No, we’ll let them do all the work. Once they find the treasure, we’ll just take it away from them.”

“Rob the Cartwrights? I don’t know about that, Bart,” Jones said doubtfully.

“It isn’t as if the Cartwrights own that treasure, Hank,” Peterson explained. “It belongs to whoever gets their hands on it. We’re just going to make sure those hands are ours.”

**********

“If we’re right about the mountains, then it has to be this range here,” said Joe, pointing at a map spread on the table before him. He and Hoss were sitting on the ledge of the fireplace, looking a one of several maps scattered across the table. “And the smallest mountain is this one,” added Joe, stabbing his finger at rough outline of a mound which had been drawn on the map.

“Whatever we’re looking for is at the foot of that mountain,” agreed Hoss.

“I think the part about darkness leading to light means a canyon or maybe a tunnel,” Joe said. “There’s got to be some passage way at the foot of that mountain.”

“But Joe, there could be all kinds of canyons there,” Hoss pointed out. “We don’t know which one to follow unless we can figure out what this dryad is.”

“Yeah, I know,” Joe said in a discouraged voice. “And even if we should find the right one, it wouldn’t do us much good. We don’t know what the ‘path of playful Pan’ means either.

The two men sat staring at the maps and yellowed paper on the table, hoping that some inspiration would come to them. They were startled out of their reverie by the sound of the front door opening.

“Hi boys!” Ben Cartwright greeted his sons heartily as he walked into the house, followed by his oldest son, Adam.

“Pa!” Joe exclaimed in surprise. “We didn’t expect you home for a couple of days.”

“That’s obvious,” Adam commented dryly. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting around the house in the middle of the afternoon.”

Ignoring his oldest son’s jibe, Ben threw a saddle bag on the bureau by the door and began to unbuckle his gunbelt. “Hop Sing! We’re home!” Ben shouted as he removed the belt. His call was answered by the sound of soft footsteps shuffling toward the living room.

“Mr. Cartwright, Mr. Adam, welcome home.” Hop Sing bowed slightly. “It good to see you back safe.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Hop Sing,” Ben replied. He nodded toward his middle and youngest sons still sitting in front of the fireplace. “Those two keep out of trouble?”

“Sons work very hard,” Hop Sing confirmed. “All work, no mischief. I tell them father be very pleased.”

“And so I am,” Ben replied with a smile. “I’ll be even more pleased if you cook up some chicken and dumplings for dinner for us.”

"Hop Sing cook good dinner, you see,” the cook replied with a wide smile on his face. He bowed again and hurried into the kitchen.

“Well, how have you boys been?” Ben asked as he moved to sit in his favorite leather chair by the fire. He frowned a bit when he saw all the papers on the table. “What’s all this?”

“Nothing, Pa,” Joe said quickly, shuffling the papers into a pile. “Just some maps Hoss and I were looking at. How did things go in Carson City.”

“They didn’t,” Adam replied for his father. He moved to sit on the sofa.

 “What Adam means is that the railroad wanted the lumber much sooner than we could deliver it,” explained Ben. “There’s no way we could meet their deadline, so we didn’t bother to bid on the contract. We just packed up and came home.”

"Pa, I told you we need a bigger sawmill,” Adam said. “If we had expanded the mill six months ago, we could have handled that deadline with no problem.”

“I know, Adam, but expanding the mill costs money,” Ben answered. “Money that we don’t have right now.”

“We have the payment from the Army for those horses plus the profit from that last sale of lumber to the Virginia City mines,” argued Adam.

“Which I want to use to buy more cattle and upgrade our stock,” said Ben.

“But we can wait on the stock,” Adam insisted. “A couple of months won’t make that much difference. If we expand the mill, we’ll make that money back and more from the new contracts we’ll get.”

“If we get them,” cautioned Ben. He shook his head. “I know your idea is a good one, Adam. But we just can’t afford to expand the mill and upgrade the stock at the same time. There just isn’t enough money in the bank. And upgrading and adding to the stock is safer. We can’t afford to be cash poor. I want to make sure that any money we spend is used wisely.”

“Um, Pa,” said Joe in a hesitant voice, “while you were gone, I wrote a draft for $150 from our account at the bank.”

“Uh oh,” Adam said. He looked at the papers on the tables. “You spent $150 and you’re looking at maps. What did you buy now? A deed to all of California? Or maybe the water rights to Lake Tahoe?”

“Doggonit, Adam, you make it sound like Joe and I don’t have enough brains to come in out of the rain,” grumbled Hoss. “Just cause we spent some money doesn’t mean we wasted it.”

“Hoss is right,” agreed Ben. “Your brothers are very responsible and they wouldn’t have spent that much money unless they had to. I’m sure they wouldn’t do anything foolish.” He turned to Hoss. “What did you spend the money on?”

Hoss shifted his weight uncomfortably on the stone ledge. “Uh, Joe, why don’t you tell Pa what we spent the money on.”

“Me?” said Joe in surprised voice. He saw his father and oldest brother looking at him expectantly. Joe swallowed hard, and scratched his neck nervously. “Well, we bought something from Pete Dawson.”

“From Pete?” Ben said in surprised tone. “What could Pete have that was worth $150?

“It was a paper,” Joe replied slowly.

"A paper?” Ben frowned. “What was on this paper?”

Joe looked at Hoss for help but found his brother was staring at the ceiling, seeming oblivious to the conversation around him. Joe turned back to face his father. “It was…kind of…  directions,” Joe said in a hesitant voice.

“Directions to what?” asked Ben, his voice now full of suspicion.

“To a buried treasure,” Joe blurted out. He winced as he said the words.

“Buried treasure!” thundered Ben. “You spent $150 on a treasure map! Have you lost your mind?”

“Well, at least it wasn’t anything foolish,” Adam said in a sarcastic voice.

“Now, Pa, let me explain,” said Joe hastily. “It wasn’t exactly like what you’re thinking. Pete needed some money in a hurry to help his sister.” In a rush, Joe related the story of the plight of Dawson’s sister, and how the cowboy was trying to raise money to help her. He told of Pete winning both money and the paper in a poker game, but was still short of the amount he needed. “He wouldn’t take the money from us as a loan,” Joe finished. “So I figured buying the paper from him was a way to help him out without hurting his pride.”

“Well, that does put things in a different light,” Ben agreed, somewhat mollified. “I’m glad you found a way to help Pete. He’s done a lot for us over the years.” He shook his head. “But I hope the story doesn’t get around that you paid $150 for a treasure map. We’ll have every con man in the territory knocking on our door, trying to sell you a map.”

Sitting forward on the sofa, Adam looked at the maps on the table. “You two weren’t actually thinking of trying to follow that map, were you? Even if it isn’t a phony, someone would have found whatever it led to years ago.”

“That’s the thing, Adam,” said Hoss, suddenly interested in the conversation again. “It’s not a map. The paper has directions on it, but it’s written in some kind of code. Nobody has been able to figure it out. That’s why Pete came out here. He thought if anyone could make sense of it, you could.”

“Me?” Adam said. “Why me?”

“Well, listen to it and you’ll see,” said Joe. He picked up the yellowed document from the table and read the faded writing slowly.

“Whoever wrote that was a Greek scholar,” said Adam with a frown when Joe had finished. “Or at least knew a lot about Greek mythology. Let me see that.” He reached for the paper and his youngest brother handed it to him.

“See, we figure the first part points to the mountains west of Lake Tahoe,” Hoss explained. “And at the bottom of the smallest mountain there’s some kind of canyon. Only we don’t know which canyon because we don’t know what a dryad is.”

“A dryad is a spirit that lives in an oak tree,” said Adam in a distracted voice, still reading the sheet Joe had handed him.

“An oak tree!” Joe exclaimed. “That’s it, Hoss. There’s some oak trees in front of the right passage through the mountain.”

“I told you Adam could figure it out,” Hoss said almost smugly.

“Now wait just a minute,” Ben interjected. “You boys aren’t thinking of going treasure hunting, are you?”

“Why not, Pa?” asked Joe, a bit puzzled.

“Because it’s a waste of time, and there’s plenty to do around here,” answered Ben sternly.

“But Pa, all it would take is a couple of days,” Hoss argued. “Joe and I finished all but a couple of little chores on that list you left us. And you and Adam weren’t even suppose to be home for a couple more days. It wouldn’t hurt nothing to take a couple of days just to see what we can find.”

“And if we do find something,” Joe added, “that could mean a lot of money. Enough to expand the sawmill and buy all the stock we want.”

“Adam, give me that paper,” demanded Ben. His oldest son handed the yellowed sheet to him and Ben read the writing quickly. “These so-called directions could be meaningless. And look at this last line – ‘a treasure more precious than gold’. It sounds like whatever is hidden isn’t even valuable, at least in terms of money. Most of the time, people use a term like this to describe something more intangible, like friendship or love.”

“But Pa, you can’t hide friendship under a rock,” said Hoss. “And that paper says to lift a cover to find the treasure.”

“Pa’s right,” Adam stated. “Whatever is hidden doesn’t sound like a treasure. More likely, it’s some kind of personal treasure, like a journal or picture. Besides, I’m not sure I know what all those references mean. Some are pretty obscure.”

“Poseidon’s scepter,” Ben murmured in a soft voice as he continued to look at the paper in his hand. “That probably means a trident.”

Quickly, Joe and Hoss exchanged knowing grins. “What’s a trident?” Hoss asked innocently.

“It’s like a pitchfork,” explained Ben without looking up. Suddenly, he frowned and shook his head. “It’s a lot of nonsense,” he said, quickly putting the sheet of paper on the table. “We’ve got a ranch to run. We haven’t got time to go hunting for treasure.”

“Yes sir,” said Joe in a discouraged voice.

“Do you mind if I take this for awhile?” asked Adam, picking up the paper from the table. “I’d like to look up some of these references in a book I have.” Seeing the frown on his father’s face, Adam added hastily, “I just want to see if I can piece this together. It’s a…intellectual challenge.”

“Sure, take the paper, Adam,” Hoss encouraged his older brother. “Maybe you can figure it all out, just like Pete thought.”

“I just want to see if I can solve the puzzle,” Adam stated firmly. “I am not going treasure hunting with you two.”

“Of course not, Adam,” Joe agreed solemnly. Then he turned and winked at Hoss.

***********

The hunt for the treasure wasn’t mentioned at dinner that night, but the thought was on all the Cartwright’s minds. The idea was like an unwelcome visitor – pointedly ignored but still visible to everyone. Ben asked about the ranch and list of chores, questions which Joe and Hoss answered a bit too enthusiastically. Joe’s queries to Adam about Carson City were answered by his oldest brother in a distracted tone, his mind obviously elsewhere. When Adam excused himself to go to his room as soon as the meal was finished, his younger brothers gave each other a knowing look. The looks disappeared quickly when Ben pointedly cleared his throat and frowned.

It wasn’t until breakfast the next morning that the unmentionable topic was raised. Ben and his youngest sons were already seated at the table when Adam bounded down the stairs.

“Good morning,” Adam greeted his family with a smile.

“You’re a bit late this morning,” Ben chided his oldest son.

“And smiling,” added Hoss. “What’d you do last night?”

“I spent most of the night going through some old textbooks on ancient history,” explained Adam. “It took me awhile to figure out some of the reference points on that paper.”

“But you did figure them out, didn’t you?” asked Joe eagerly.

“Now wait a minute,” interrupted Ben before Adam could answer. “I thought we agreed this treasure hunting business was a lot of nonsense.”

“Well, you said it was nonsense,” Hoss said a bit slyly. “Joe and I didn’t say nothing.”

“Pa, all I wanted to do was to see if I could decode that paper,” explained Adam. “I didn’t say anything about following the directions to this so-called treasure.”

“Did you figure it out?” Joe pressed his brother.

“Most of it,” admitted Adam. “The part about the nymphs had me mystified for awhile, but then I found a reference to something called ash tree nymphs. I think that part refers to a line of ash trees.” Adam shook his head. “But the part about the zither has me stumped. I know a zither is sort of like a harp, but I don’t understand how someone could hear a zither out in the middle of nowhere.”

"Maybe the wind through the trees makes that sound,” suggested Hoss.

“That could be,” agreed Adam. “But it doesn’t explain how that sound would lead someone to the next clue. Just hearing it wouldn’t help much.”

“A zither, hmm,” mused Ben. He looked off for a moment. “You know, back when I was sailing, we stopped in a port down in Jamaica. I met an old Greek sailor there, and he was playing an odd instrument that looked something like a harp. He called the music it made the sound of the West Wind. I found out later that it was a zither.”

“That’s it!” Adam cried. “The zither’s sound means to follow the line of ash trees to the west! That’s the part I couldn’t understand.”

“Pa, you have to let us go look for the treasure,” Joe pleaded. “Adam’s figured out the clues on that paper. We can’t just sit here and wonder about what it leads to when we could find out for sure.”

“Joseph, I’ve told you that I consider this a waste of time,” Ben replied sternly. “We have other things to do.”

“Aren’t you just a little bit curious, Pa?” Hoss asked. “I mean, wouldn’t you like to see where that paper leads us?”
 

“No I’m not curious,” Ben answered but there was something in his voice that indicated his statement was less than true.

"I certainly don’t think there’s buried treasure in Nevada,” said Adam. “But I have to admit that document has piqued my interest. Why would someone go to all that trouble to write such obscure references unless there was something important that he was trying to hide?”

“Not you too, Adam,” groaned Ben. “It’s bad enough your brothers have the treasure fever. I thought you’d be sensible enough to know this isn’t going to lead to anything.”

“Maybe it won’t lead to anything, Pa,” agreed Joe. “But it would only take a day or two to look. What harm could it do?”

“Pa, you once said that when a man has an urge to find out about something, he’s better off going exploring than just sitting home. Otherwise, he’ll wonder all his life what he missed,” stated Hoss.

“I said that?” asked Ben in surprise.

“Well, something like that,” Hoss admitted.

"If we don’t go, Pa, we’ll all go a little crazy thinking about what might be out there,” added Adam. “It’s better if we just get it over and done with.”

Looking around the table at the three eager and expectant faces staring at him, Ben knew that he had lost the battle. “All right,” he said, throwing up his hands. “You can go.”

“Yippee!” shouted Joe while Hoss slapped the table as a sign of his delight. Adam merely smiled and nodded, adding “Thanks, Pa.”

“Now hold on,” Ben said sternly. “I don’t want you boys going off half cocked. If you’re going to do this foolish treasure hunt, you’re going to do it right. Adam, you make sure each of you has at least four days supplies and plenty of ammunition. And don’t forget tools, like a hammer and chisel. Hoss, you go the Land Office and get an updated map of the claims staked in those mountains west of Lake Tahoe. I don’t want you boys digging round on someone else’s land. And Joe, you be sure you have a compass. I want to make sure you can find your way home.”

“Pa, why don’t you come with us?” Hoss urged his father.

“Me?” said Ben in surprise.

“Sure, why not,” added Joe. “You were suppose to be in Carson City for the next couple of days so you can’t have anything important to do.”

“And you did figure out the clue about the trident and the zither,” Adam said. “I might have something wrong, and two heads are better than one in trying to understand this puzzle.”

“I…I have things to do,” Ben answered in a hesitant voice.

“Nothing that can’t wait,” stated Joe.

“Besides, Pa, ain’t you the least little bit curious about what we’ll find?” Hoss asked.

“You’ll only spend the next few days wondering and worrying about us,” added Adam. “Why don’t you come with us and see for yourself what happens.”

His sons waited patiently while Ben considered the idea. His face showed his practical nature struggling with his desire to see where the directions led. Finally, Ben shrugged. “Well, I suppose a few days on the trail with you boys wouldn’t be too bad. We haven’t made a trip together in quite awhile.”

“Yeah, it’ll be sort of a family outing,” Joe said with a grin. His brothers’ faces broke into a grin also.

“I’ll go,” Ben agreed, “but only if we’re fully prepared, like I said.” Then he grinned also. “What are you doing wasting time around here? If we’re going to leave first thing tomorrow, you’d better start getting things together.”

“Yes sir!” said Adam as he and his brothers pushed back their chairs from the table.

**********

As he walked into the Silver Dollar saloon, Hank Jones looked around. He spotted Peterson sitting at a table in the back, a half-empty beer glass in his hand. “Hey Bart,” Jones called, walking toward the table. “Guess who I saw in town?”

“Who?” asked Peterson, taking another sip from his beer glass.

“Hoss Cartwright,” Jones replied. “I saw him coming out of the Land Office with some kind of map in his hand.”

“Now isn’t that interesting,” Peterson mused, placing the glass on the table. “Because I was over at the General Store, and Joe Cartwright was there. He was ordering some trail supplies. He also wanted a compass.”

"A map and a compass, eh?” Jones said with a grin. “Sounds like the Cartwright boys are going exploring.”

“You know, Hank, I think you’re right,” agreed Peterson.

“We going exploring, too?” Jones asked.

“Yep, we are,” Peterson stated. “Soon as I finish my beer.”

**********

“We’re at the foot of the mountain,” said Adam almost pensively. “Now all we have to do is find the oak trees, and then look for….what was the phrase again?”  A small smile crossed his face as Adam heard crisp papers being unfolded behind him. As part of the preparations, Adam had copied the directions to the treasure on four separate sheets – one for each Cartwright. The reason he stated was to make sure they didn’t lose the original or have only the one yellowed document to rely on. But privately, Adam had another reason – he knew his family. Each of them would want to see the original paper to check their progress for themselves. His copying had avoided the endless requests he had foreseen for the paper to be passed to from one Cartwright to another.

“Hiding the passage to light,” called Joe, secretly pleased that he had been the first to find the right words.

"Them trees ahead,” Hoss said loudly, pointing  to a small stand of hardwoods growing a few feet from the granite rock, “those look like oaks to me.”

Nodding his agreement, Adam kicked his horse lightly and led the trio behind him to the trees. By unspoken agreement, he had taken charge of the expedition; his father and brothers understood that Adam was best qualified to recognize each clue.

The oaks grew in an odd formation. Several trees were clustered together, then two trees grew separately. A few feet from the lone oaks, another cluster of trees were grouped together.  “This is it,” Adam announced. “Start looking for an opening in the rocks.”

“Are you sure?” Joe asked with more than a trace of doubt. “There could be another strand of oaks around.”

“The paper said ‘dryads frolicking,” replied Adam. “See how these are growing? It looks a little like the beginning of a dance, with the two trees coming out of their separate groups to bow to each other. Dancing, frolicking – they’re the same thing.”

“Adam’s right,” agreed Ben. “Start looking for a canyon or some other opening.”

It took the Cartwrights only a few minutes to locate the narrow trail that seemed to split the mountain in two. Flanked by both sides of the mountain, the trail was hidden in shadows – difficult to see if someone was simply riding by, but easy to spot if someone was looking for it. Adam took the lead up the trail, while his family followed in single file.

The trail wound upward through the rocks for about a half a mile, a gradual ascent that horses could manage without effort. When the path became flatter, Adam could see sunlight ahead. He knew they had found ‘the passage from dark to light’.

The shadowed trail led to a large meadow ringed by the mountains. The grass was thick and lush, and wildflowers were sprinkled among the blades. The meadow was bathed in sunlight, and the distant chirps of birds drifted through the air.

“Ain’t that pretty?” commented Hoss as he pulled his horse to a stop next to Adam’s halted mount.

“I wonder if anyone besides the man who wrote that paper has ever been up here,”  Adam replied in a quiet voice. “It’s almost like finding a new world.”

“My guess is that the Piute know it’s here,” remarked Ben from behind his oldest son. “There’s not much they don’t know about these mountains.”

“I suppose you’re right,” agreed Adam, a little disappointed. For a moment, he had felt like an explorer, experiencing the thrill of discovery. Quickly, he cleared his voice. “The next line talks about ‘the path of playful Pan’. Pan was the god of goats and goat herders, so I’m guessing that means a path that the mountain goats use.”

“That could be pretty tough to follow, Adam,” Joe said. “Those goat trails are usually pretty steep.”

“It must be passable,” Adam insisted, “because the fellow who wrote this out followed it. Let’s split up and look for it. It must be pretty close to here; I doubt if this man would have gone clear across the meadow. Pa, you and Joe go right. Hoss and I will take the left side.”

For over an hour, both pairs of men rode around the edge of the meadow, looking almost casually at first, and then searching more carefully for a trail that had been trod by mountain goats. The pairs passed each other as they searched, hoping that the other two Cartwrights would spot something that the first duo had missed.

As the four met at the top of the meadow once more, they pulled their horses to a halt.

“Nothing,” said Ben shaking his head. “Not even tracks of a mountain goat. Are you sure you’re interpreting it right?

“Well, I can’t be positive,” admitted Adam. “But ‘the path of playful Pan’ sure sounds like a goat trail to me.”

“Maybe we should have brought along our own goat and let him find it,” Hoss suggested with a grin.

Staring off in the distance, Joe said nothing. His eyes searched the rocks around the meadow. “Hey, Adam,” he said suddenly. “Look over there, about ten feet to the right. See the way that moss is growing in those rocks? Doesn’t that look like the horns of a mountain goat?”

“Yeah,” agreed Hoss enthusiastically, “and that long piece of rock in between looks kind of like the face of a goat.”

“That must be it,” Ben said in an eager voice. “You can’t see it up close, so we rode right by it. You have to look at it from a distance.”

“Let’s check it out,” Adam ordered, as he urged his horse forward. The four men rode to the mossy rocks, then stopped to look around.

"I  don’t see a path,” said Hoss, frowning,

“It’s up there,” said Joe, pointing. “See, right at the top of the horns; there’s a small path cutting through the rocks.”

“We’ll have to leave the horses here,” Ben advised, frowning. “I’m not sure I like that idea.”

“There’s plenty of grass for them,” Hoss replied. “They’ll be fine.”

“It’s not the horses I’m worried about,” said Ben. “I’m not sure I like the idea of us trekking through these mountains on foot. Maybe we’d better call this whole thing off.”

“Pa, we can’t quit now, not when we’re so close,” Joe argued.

“There’s four of us, Pa. It’s not like it’s one man by himself,” added Hoss.

For a moment, Ben said nothing; he merely looked at the three eager faces around him. “All right,” he agreed reluctantly. “We’ll go on. But be sure each of you takes your bedroll, canteen and supplies. Hoss, you carry a rope with you, just in case. Joe, you take the saddle bag with the tools. Adam and I will carry the rifles.”

“I hope we can walk carrying all that stuff,” grumbled Joe softly as he dismounted. He hurried to find a good spot for his horse when he saw his father frowning at him.

After spending twenty minutes or so tying up horses and gathering the items they needed, the Cartwrights returned to the mossy rock. Joe approached the side of the mountain first.

“Hey, there’s some footholds here,” Joe shouted. Despite being burdened by heavy saddle bags and a bed roll, he easily scrambled up the side of the rock and stood triumphantly on the ledge atop the image of the goat. “I can see a path through the rocks. It widens after a few feet. Nothing to it.” Joe started up the path at an easy gait.

“Joseph! Joseph! Wait for us,” Ben shouted. He hurriedly climbed the rock after his youngest son, followed by Hoss and Adam.

The four men walked slowly along a path that snaked through the rocks. The path led them upward, toward the top of the mountain.

“How far do you figure we have to travel along this trail, Adam?” Hoss asked his older brother.

“Until we see something that looks like a trident…a pitchfork,” answered Adam with a shrug. He looked at the backs of his father and youngest brother ahead of them. “Keep your eyes open. At the pace Joe’s going, he could walk right by it.”

The trail seemed to coil through the mountain, zigzagging right and left, but always upwards. Ben was about to suggest they halt for a rest when he saw Joe stop a few yards ahead of him.

“There’s another meadow up here,” Joe called over his shoulder. Quickly, the other three Cartwrights climbed up to stand next to him.

This meadow was smaller, but just as lush and green as the one below. Trees formed a boundary on either side of the grass – a single row of ash trees, some bent to the wind.

“Here’s the ash trees,” Adam said. “Now all we have to do is figure out which set to follow.”

“Which way is west, Joe?” asked Ben.

Quickly, Joe dug into one of the saddle bags slung over his shoulder and pulled out the compass. He positioned it a bit, then studied it. “That way,” he said pointing down the middle of the meadow. He looked up at the men around him. “Both lines of trees go west.”

“That’s why that pitchfork thing is important,” Hoss said, nodding. “It shows which side of the meadow is the right one.”

Pulling out a sheet of paper from his pocket, Adam studied it carefully. “The directions say that the trees lead to ‘great Ida’s immovable presence’. Ida is a mountain. Both sets of trees lead to the mountain, but they go in different directions at the end.”

“So if we pick the wrong set of trees, we won’t see the next clue,” Joe stated. He shook his head. “I suppose we could follow one line of trees and if that doesn’t work out, come back and follow the other one.”

“That won’t be necessary, little brother,” Hoss said. “Look behind you.”

Turning quickly, Joe’s eyes opened wide in amazement as he looked at the rocks over his right shoulder. Three small trickles of water ran down the rocks, a small but steady stream of liquid. The water evidently had been running for a long, long time because it had etched deep grooves into the rocks. For some unknown reason, the rivulets on the right and left abruptly turned inward, joining the middle stream to form a larger flow which spilled into the ground. The water had etched the perfect image of a trident into the rock.

“Guess we follow the line of trees on the right,” said Joe, grinning. He hefted the saddle bags a bit higher on his shoulder. “Shall we go, gentlemen?”