Lost Cipher Read Free

crazy.
    The old man’s glare dropped to a stack of pamphlets piled in a box on the counter. The words “Beale Treasure Codes—50 cents” were scrawled on the front of the box. He picked one up and turned it over in his hand. Lucas noticed a crude drawing of a treasure chest, coins and jewels spilling out, on the front of the pamphlet.
    â€œStill sellin’ this sorry old story too,” said the old man. He crumpled the pamphlet in his hand and bounced it off the clerk’s chest. “I ever find one of those on someone up on my land, I’ll come for you soon as I’m done with them.”
    The clerk rang up the man’s purchase quickly, without another word. While he did, the old man kept his eyes on Lucas, letting him know the challenge wasn’t forgotten.
    When the screen door finally slammed behind the old man, the clerk let out a long breath and some of the color seeped back into his face. Lucas realized he’d been holding his own breath too.
    Lucas’s grandmother laughed nervously. “He always that angry?” she asked, motioning her grandson to pick up the fallen key chains now that the coast was clear.
    â€œWell, insane’s more like it, I hate to say. He lives way up Moccasin Hollow, all by his lonesome. Other side of the ridge from that camp you’re going to, in fact. He’s like some kind of leftover from the old days. Lives mostly on whatever he can kill. No phone, no car. Still uses an outhouse even.” He scrunched up his face as if nothing could be more backward than an outdoor toilet, and Lucas couldn’t help thinking about the old one they still used back in Indian Hole when the trailer’s was occupied or busted.
    â€œFortunately he only comes down here every few months. Buys a few things from me, usually curses me out or threatens me in the process, and spends the rest of his time over in the library across the street. After that, he just walks back out of town, sometimes way after dark.”
    â€œWhy doesn’t someone just take him down a notch?” asked Lucas’s grandmother.
    â€œWell, what with his reputation and all, no one’s willing to try. Folks say one time he caught a couple of treasure hunters digging up his orchard. Ol’ Giddy—that’s what folks call him around here—he claimed they swung a shovel on him. All I know is one ended up with both arms busted, and the other had to have a load of bird shot taken out of his behind. Sheriff took six deputies with him when they brought Ol’ Giddy in for that one. Should’ve gone to jail for a spell, but the judge bought his self-defense story.” He snickered. “Ol’ Giddy was just lucky that particular judge hadn’t been around long enough to know his reputation.”
    â€œWhy were they diggin’ on his land?” asked Lucas’s grandmother. “The treasure hunters, I mean.”
    The clerk brightened, clearly relieved to change the subject. “Oh, I guess you haven’t heard about our local legend? Supposed to be millions in gold and silver buried up in these mountains—or so the legend goes.” He pointed to the stack of brochures on the counter. “Usually, I try to hide these when Ol’ Giddy comes around. Didn’t get the chance today.” He took one of the pamphlets and handed it to Lucas. “Take it, son. It’s the least I can do for you standing up to my ugliest customer.”
    Lucas held the brochure but didn’t open it.
    â€œThere’s some lists of numbers in there. They’re codes. The first one’s supposed to tell you where the treasure is. Of course, folks have been trying to figure ’em out for around a hundred fifty years, so good luck. Personally, I think the whole thing is just an old hoax, but it helps me sell a metal detector now and then.”
    They paid for the toothpaste and walked back down the block to the truck. Lucas tossed the