Peg Leg's Lost Treasure
By
Laptopwriter
Copyright © 2020
Several years ago, I wrote a story, "It's Against the Law," where I introduced three characters, Jack, who was an investigative reporter for a major Chicago newspaper, Dalton, who was a photographer with his own studio, and Dave, a sergeant on the Arlington Hills police force.
In my sequel to the story, 'But is it Immoral,' I used Jack and Dalton again.
Since then, I have received a bunch of emails and comments asking when they would get together again for another story, so I thought I'd have them join forces for another adventure, although only as supporting cast members. I hope you like it... and as always, I enjoy reading your comments.
*****
Peg Leg's Lost Treasure
This was ridiculous. Outside the wind was gusting up to thirty miles per hour, and it was about to start pouring any minute. He was starting to feel like a fool. Whoever belonged to the mysterious voice was twenty minutes late. The whole thing sounded too far-fetched to be legit, anyway. I'll wait another ten minutes, he thought. If he isn't here by then, I'm taking off.
He had about three fingers of beer left in the bottle, so rather than order another, Aaron decided to just nurse it along. This whole thing was either some stupid practical joke or somebody was just playing games. Either way, he wasn't in the mood.
A few minutes later, he glanced at his watch once more, threw back the last of his Budweiser, and started to get up when the guy sitting on the next stool grabbed his arm.
"I recognize you from the picture in the paper. I had to make sure you were alone."
Aaron identified the voice as the same one from the strange phone call he'd gotten the night before.
"Get us another beer and meet me over there in the corner booth."
Aaron didn't like the guy's demeanor and was still tempted to just leave, but his curiosity wouldn't let him. He ordered two more beers and watched as the dark figure of a man limped his way along the floor and across the room.
This can't be real, Aaron told himself. The weird character was dressed as if he'd stepped out of a thirties noir movie. The dark grey suit he wore was at least a size too big and the black patch over his left eye seemed to be carrying things a little too far. Well, I'm here, Aaron thought to himself, I might as well see what he has to say.
He could hear it start to pour outside as he walked over, slid into the booth opposite the grungy stranger and pushed one of the beers in his direction. "Okay, what's this all about?"
The man's greasy hair hung down over his forehead, almost reaching his dark brown eyes as he lowered his head and his voice. "Ever hear of Peg Leg Smith's lost gold mine?"
Aaron laughed out loud. He knew this had to be somebody's idea of a joke. "Peg Leg Smith, huh; can't say as I have," he said, flippantly.
"I can tell you don't believe me, but hear me out. The mine is real and I know where it is."
"Okay," Aaron replied with a sigh. "You have the floor. Tell me all about this lost gold mine."
The stranger looked around to make sure no one was listening nearby. "Peg Leg Smith was a mountain man and fur trapper out west in the early eighteen hundreds. Anyway, he was taking a bunch of beaver pelts across the desert to sell in Los Angeles around the late eighteen twenties. On his way, he picked up some black rocks he thought were copper. When he got to LA, he found out it was gold. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't find the spot again, but he said the gold was just laying all around, tons of it."
Aaron was wondering why he was even wasting his time listening. It was obviously nothing but BS. "So he couldn't find it again, but you know where it is?"
"Yeah," the stranger confirmed. "A few years later somebody else found it again, an old prospector; he loaded his saddlebags with the stuff."
"And then he couldn't find it again, either, right?" asked a very skeptical Aaron.
"No, he got sick and died."
Aaron had had just about enough of the guy's nonsense. "Look, get to the point. Why did you call me?"
"I read about you in the newspaper. You seem like somebody I can trust. I know where the gold is, but..."
"If you know where it is, what do you need me for? Why not just go get it yourself?"
This time it was the stranger who chuckled. "Look at me. I've got a bum leg, I can only see out of one eye and my ticker isn't in the best of shape. As I said, the gold is in the desert. You can drive some of the way but the last twenty or thirty miles is pretty rugged territory; the only way to get there is on horseback. I'd never make it.
"You'll also need to rent a horse, a couple of pack mules, and a horse trailer large enough to carry them. All that costs money, money I don't have."
"So how is it that you're the only one who knows where this gold is?"
"That prospector I told you about? He had a doctor taking care of him before he died. That doctor was an ancestor of mine. My sister was doing all kinds of that... what do you call it... gene something?"
"Genealogy?"
"Yeah, where they track down old relatives and stuff. Anyway, she somehow got a bunch of stuff that used to belong to people we were related to in the past. When she died a few months ago of breast cancer, I got all that stuff. I found the map, along with a journal that the doctor kept in an old tin box with his name on it. It's all there. The prospector had thousands in gold. He drew the map just before he died."
"If the doctor had the map why didn't he go get the gold?"
"He was a doctor, not a prospector. According to his journal, he did wander out a couple times but got scared and went back home before he reached it. From what he wrote, he seemed pretty content with being a doctor. The gold just didn't mean that much to him."
"That's it? How do you know any of that stuff is even authentic?"
"You can tell. It's real old paper, all yellowed and everything. I'm telling you, I know it's real. It even smells old."
"It takes more than that. I'd have to have the map and the journal authenticated by an expert before giving you anything for it. How much do you want for it anyway?"
"Half," replied the stranger. "I want half of everything you find."
That was a little surprising. Aaron had figured the guy was going to try and sell him the map. "You don't want anything for the map?" he asked.
"What kind of fool do you take me for? I want half of the gold. I figure with today's prices, it's got be worth hundreds of millions of dollars. I'm not greedy, I'll take half and you take half. I will want a receipt for the map when I give it to you, though."
This put a little different wrinkle on things. What motive would the guy have for scamming him if he didn't want any money upfront? "Where is this map and journal of yours?"
The stranger gave him a wary eye. "They're safe and sound in a safety deposit box."
Aaron took another sip of his beer and sat back in the booth. "Okay, let me get this straight. You want me to lead an expedition into..."
"No! No expedition," interrupted the unkempt stranger, "just you."
"Just me? What makes you think I can find it alone? I'd need a guide who knows the area."
"You found that boat, didn't you? It's got to be harder finding something in the water than on land. The map is pretty damned detailed. All you'll really need is a compass and you shouldn't have any problems."
Aaron sat just staring at the guy, trying to figure out his angle.
The stranger could almost read all the questions floating around in Aaron's head. "Look," he said, "I've had this map for months, trying to figure out who I could trust with it. Then I read about you. I decided I had to trust somebody; it might as well be you, but I don't want a bunch of other people involved. That's a sure way to get screwed, in my book."
The two men sat silently for a few moments before Aaron spoke. "I need some time to think this over."
"How much time?"
"I don't know, a few days, a week maybe, no more than that, though. You blocked your number when you called last night; how can I get in touch with you?"
"You got a pen?"
Aaron took one from his inside jacket pocket and handed it to him.
"Here's my number," he said, scribbling it down on a napkin. "Call me when you make up your mind." He started to slide out of the booth.
"Wait, I don't even know your name."
"John," he replied. "John Jones."With that, the mysterious man in the oversized grey suit limped his way through the bar and out the door.
A few seconds later, Aaron got up and went to see if he could spot what kind of car the guy was driving, maybe get a license number that he could give to his cousin, but the guy was already gone.
The rain wasn't coming down nearly as hard as it had been, so Aaron decided it was a good time to go home before it started coming down in sheets again. His wife was sitting on the couch watching TV when he walked in.
"Where you been?"
He walked over and kissed her on the forehead. "I had a business meeting," he said. Brenda was never that interested in his adventures, so he didn't see the need to elaborate.
"At this time of night?"
"Yeah, some weird guy with a treasure map."
Brenda looked at him like he had two heads. "A treasure map? Like pirate treasure? Don't you have enough of that stuff?"
"No, this is something different: a lost gold mine out west somewhere. I haven't decided on anything yet. I still have a bunch of questions. The only lost gold mine I ever heard of was the Lost Dutchman's. People have been looking for that one for over a hundred and fifty years and haven't found diddly-squat. I'm going to call Dave in the morning."
"Dave? What does he know about lost gold mines?"
"I'm sure he knows even less than I do, but he has resources for checking things out. I'm going to give him a description of the guy I met tonight. He had a limp and patch over his left eye. He might be a known con man or something."
"I see," she replied. "So, Mr. Indiana Jones, you want to go to bed and look for the golden pussy? Who knows, you might just strike it rich."
They'd been married long enough that Aaron didn't need a map to find his way around. Brenda started to moan as soon as his lips touched her neck, behind her ear. That drove her crazy with desire and was always a good place to start.
Always willing to take his time, Aaron let his right hand explore hills and valleys of her breasts, pinching her nipples and gently squeezing the soft voluptuous globes. As his lips traveled southward, so did his touch until he reached an already wet pussy. Brenda arched her back in response and whimpered with ecstasy. As Aaron kissed and nibbled his way down. He always loved her response when he sucked her clit in his mouth and rolled it around with tongue.
