Page 15 of Whispers of Fortune (Golden State Treasure Book #1)

F IFTEEN

“I read a little Spanish,” Ellie said in reply to his blunt question. She was a bit surprised to see Brody so early in the morning. She’d intended to avoid him except for when she was working with him. She never should have kissed him.

Well, honestly, he’d kissed her. She hadn’t kissed him. But she hadn’t exactly run away screaming, now, had she?

Brody held up the ragged old book he’d waved at her the other day. The one that he’d refused to give to his brothers. The one he’d threatened to burn. “It’s written in a way that’s almost, well, not a puzzle exactly, but I get the feeling Grandpa was afraid it might fall into the wrong hands. He wanted to write his thoughts down. He sent it to Pa. But I think Grandpa only did that as a last resort when he was afraid of someone. He was writing this and taking notes for his own use. How confusing it is makes it less of a fascination and more of a nuisance. My pa abandoned us, three times , to chase after treasure.”

“Three times?”

“Yes, and each time he was gone for years.”

“Come in.” Ellie waved him inside. “I’ve got coffee on.”

“I’d better not. There might be patients soon. If I could just tell you what I want and leave the journal with you...”

Ellie found her fingers almost itching to snatch the journal out of his hands. It worried her a little just how badly she wanted it. It was a strange urge she hadn’t felt before, which might be pure greed. Or was it just curiosity, a fascination with the idea of a treasure hidden away somewhere? Undecided, she gave up and said, “I’ll walk over to the doctor’s office with you.” She turned to the kitchen and called, “Gretel, I’m leaving to go help Brody with his patients.”

Gretel poked her head through the doorway that led from the back entry to the kitchen. She had a baby perched on her hip and a toddler clinging to her skirts. She probably needed help a lot more than Brody did. Even so, she smiled and looked not a bit worried. “All right. Lunch will be ready at noon. I’ll plan on feeding Dr. MacKenzie, too.”

Nodding, but without inviting Brody to lunch yet—she would later maybe—she followed him outside into the California sunshine. A perfect June day. “Can you believe how cold it was up in the higher elevations the day we were searching for the boys?”

Brody walked beside her. “It’s almost impossible to believe. I sure felt it, though, and so must accept it. The weather can change suddenly in New York and in Boston, but...” Brody shook his head and turned to her. “Ellie, I don’t want to talk about the weather.” He gestured with the journal. “There are plenty of things in this journal that don’t make sense. We decided the unreadable language in several sections are in Spanish, but none of us know it well enough to be sure. You say you can read a little Spanish?”

“Yes. I can try to figure out what it says.”

“I thought about talking to one of the cowhands I met who was speaking Spanish to his horse. But I don’t know how many people I want to know about this journal.”

They reached his doctor’s office and went inside. There was a front entrance with several chairs and little else, and a door that led into the examining room in the back.

They walked to the back, where Brody set the book down on a table. He remained standing as he flipped it open. Ellie sat down. He then turned to the page he wanted and handed the journal to her, pointing to the mysterious line: Al norte de la Bahia de Los Pinos con Capitan Cabrillo en una espesa niebla .

“Hmm. Well, the first part says ‘North of Los Pinos.’ I think Bahia is Bay. ‘North of Los Pinos Bay with Captain Cabrillo.’” Ellie looked up at Brody. “But I’ve heard of no one by the name Captain Cabrillo, nor does Los Pinos Bay sound familiar.”

Brody straightened away from her and sank into the chair across the tiny round table from her. “North of Los Pinos Bay. I suppose we can try to find it on a map. One of California probably.”

“We’ve got good maps in the house. You’re welcome to come in and look.”

“Thank you. What about the way it’s written? You see those tidy block letters? We think Grandpa copied them from something else.”

She nodded and said, “I think you may be right.”

“How about the rest of it?”

“ Niebla means fog. I think espesa means something like ... like it’s especially foggy, but I’m not sure about that. Maybe lots of fog or heavy fog or thick fog? So we’re north of Los Pinos Bay, and it’s really foggy.”

“I think my grandpa found something that had those Span ish words written on it, and he copied them down.” Brody looked sharply at the open journal. “But Grandpa didn’t speak Spanish, which means he copied it to translate later.”

Ellie closed the cover, keeping her place with one finger. “Tell me more about this book.”

“Grandpa sent it to us. He came out here to hunt gold along with the forty-niners, and he never came back. He later mailed us his journal, shipped all the way from California, and Pa came to believe he was holding the key to a treasure. In fact, Grandpa used the word treasure .”

Ellie turned the journal over, running her hand over the back cover. “That’s what the journal says , but what about the journal itself? It’s no normal pad of paper like you’d buy in a general store.” She lifted it to study in the light streaming in from the window. “This is very old leather.”

“Well, Grandpa wrote in it near thirty years ago now.”

Shaking her head, she passed it to Brody. “It’s not thirty years old. It’s much, much older. And look at the cover. It’s badly worn, but there’s something on it.” She pointed to it. “What is that?”

Brody held the book up to the light, tilted it, then back. “Looks like a rectangle with ... with raised lines cutting it into quarters. Four triangled quarters.” He looked at Ellie with wide, startled eyes. “Like an X. Could it be like ‘X marks the spot’?”

Ellie’s thoughts were rabbiting around. “What I think is, it’s very old—much older than your grandpa when he was alive. He found that journal somewhere.” Their eyes locked. “Brody, your grandpa didn’t buy it at a store.”

“You think it’s part of the treasure, don’t you? You think Grandpa really did find some old treasure.”

Ellie shrugged a shoulder. “If it’s as old as I think it is, it’s proof your grandpa found something . The writing isn’t that old, though, and it’s in English except for those strange Spanish words. That has to be your grandpa’s writing, or at least it’s the writing of someone much more recently than when the book was made.”

“It’s Grandpa’s notes, I’m sure. He had terrible, scrawled handwriting. He makes mention of my folks a few times, hoping he can bring Pa and Ma out to California. And me and my little sister.”

“You have a sister?”

“Yes, Theresa. She died while Pa was away following Grandpa’s journal notes. Ma kept a roof over our heads, but we were always hungry. Always cold. It wore all of us down—most especially my sister, Theresa, who was still very young. Theresa woke up one day with a raging fever, and she wasn’t strong enough to fight it off.”

The bitterness in his voice went deep, and Ellie was sorry he carried such a weight around.

“When Pa finally came back, he had given up on finding the treasure. He settled back into our cold little rooms, went back to work, and stayed a few years. That’s when Thayne and Lock were born. Things were good for a while. With him working, we lived better, had enough to eat. But then he started reading this infernal journal again.” Brody shook the old book as if it were to blame for all his troubles growing up.

“Pa said he’d come up with a new idea about where to search. Not long after that, he was gone. Leaving Ma and me with the two little ones. I was about half grown so I could earn a little money. Ma wouldn’t let me quit school, so I worked after school and on weekends. Pa came back one more time when the boys were ten and eight. The train was running by then, and it made coming home easier. Neither Ma nor I trusted him this time. He was drinking more often; he worked some but couldn’t make much. Finally, he ran off again, and I didn’t see him again until I came home at the end of college. I got there in time to bury him. Then came looking for my brothers.”

“I’m sorry about your pa, Brody. But this is from your grandpa. Was your grandma still alive?”

“No. Grandpa headed west soon after she died.”

“Set aside the bitterness and hurt from your father if you can.” She took the journal back into her hand and waggled it at him. “This is from your grandpa. He didn’t abandon anyone; he just struck out on an adventure. And he wanted to get word to you about what he’d found.” She pursed her lips and stared at the old book. “And it truly does look like he found something. This book is part of what he discovered. This alone is a treasure.”

She saw the pain fade a bit from Brody’s eyes. Not gone, but pushed away for now, replaced with a spark of excitement she hadn’t noticed before now.

“I’ve honestly never spent much time reading the journal. It’s high time I did some studying.”

“I’d love to help if you’ll allow it. I mean, to get involved with your treasure hunt.” She smiled brightly at him. “I hope that doesn’t mean I’m infected now.”

“Not sure if gold fever is actually a sickness, but it sure is a bothersome condition.”

They smiled at each other. She felt her smile growing wider to match his.

“Ellie, about that kiss the other night. I had no right to take such ... such liberty with you when I know I can’t stay here at the ranch. That’s what I was trying to say. The starlight, the joy of delivering the baby, I let myself get carried away.”

Her smile faded, as did his.

Someone burst through the door. It was Alice. “My son cut his hand, Doc!” she cried. “It’s cut bad, too.”

The noise was like a rifle shot starting a race. Ellie jumped to her feet, knocked her chair over backward, and said, “You take care of that. I’ve got to see if Gretel needs my help. Come for lunch.”

“No, wait a minute. I might need help. You’re my nurse, remember?”

That kept her from just rushing all the way back to the house. “Oh, that’s right.” She whirled to face Alice, the wife of one of their most dependable cowhands. She had her youngest son, Jimmy, about four, in one arm. He was wailing. Sure enough, his hand had a nasty cut on it. She held her baby, Ronnie, in the other arm, crying just as hard.

“Set the boy on the table,” Brody said, snapping into his job as doctor.

Ellie resented it a little. Here she stood, still addlebrained by the memory of that kiss, and yet somehow he was all business.

Alice placed Jimmy on the examining table.

Brody turned to Ellie. “Miss Hart, get a basin of warm water, and fast. Then I need sutures—you know where I keep a needle and thread—and bandages.” Once he stopped issuing orders, he leaned over the boy, talking in that soothing voice of his. Talking to both mother and child.

It calmed Ellie just enough to get her moving.