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Maddock squeezed through the hole they had made and dropped down into a small chamber. The air here was cool and dry, a pleasant change from the heat of the canyon. While the others climbed through, he looked around and his heart sank. The chamber was empty save for piles of loose rocks in the corners. Had someone beat them to the treasure?
“Do you see anything?” Spenser asked.
“I’m afraid the cupboard is bare.”
“I can’t believe it,” Spenser said. “All our hard work and this is what we find.”
“That’s the nature of treasure hunting,” Maddock said. “Always be prepared for disappointment.”
“Sort of like when you see Maddock naked,” Bones chimed in.
“Let’s give it a close inspection. I might have missed something.”
They spread out and searched the chamber. Maddock ran his fingers across the cool, smooth cave wall. Maybe there was a petroglyph they had missed, or some other clue that could help them find the treasure.
In the corner where the rocks were piled, Maddock saw a glint of gold. He knelt, moved a couple of stones aside, and uncovered a gold coin. He held it up. It was a Spanish pistole.
“Interesting,” Maddock said. “I wonder if there’s more.”
While Platt filmed and Spenser narrated, the others set to moving the rocks piled in the corners.
“Found one.” Kendra held up a glittering red gemstone.
A few minutes later, Dakota found three more pistoles. “Does this make me a gold digger?” he asked.
“You made a halfway decent joke,” Bones said. “I’m impressed.”
By the time they cleared all the rubble, they had found thirty gold and silver coins, two large rubies, and a golden crucifix. No Golden Jesus. Maddock was pleased with the haul, but it wasn’t the treasure they sought.
On camera, Spenser talked up the discovery. She opined that this was one of the several places the Spanish marauders had hidden a portion of their loot. This, she concluded, was even more proof that the Treasure of the Golden Jesus was true.
“Where do we look next?” she asked Maddock.
“I don’t know. We need to figure out that last clue.”
A strange mix of triumph and disappointment filled the group as they made their way out of the cave and onto the ledge that looked down into the box canyon. The sun was going down, painting the orange-striped walls in streaks of gold. Maddock put his arm around Spenser, and they paused to take in the sight. And then he froze when he heard a low growl.
A large, tawny cat stood thirty feet away, barring the pathway back down. Its teeth were razor sharp and its muscles appeared to ripple in the afternoon sunlight. It was a mountain lion.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got this. One for the trophy case.” Gold leveled his rifle, but Spenser grabbed the barrel and forced the muzzle up toward the sky.
“Don’t you dare shoot that beautiful creature,” Spenser said.
“I don’t like to shoot anything I can’t eat, but it’s better than letting that thing tear into us,” Gold said.
“Spare us your barbaric ways, Terry Nugget,” Segar said. “I happen to be a trained animal whisperer.” He shoved his way to the front of the group and assumed a martial arts horse stance.
“I’m actually looking forward to seeing this cat rip his face off,” Gold whispered.
“Keep your rifle ready, but don’t shoot unless absolutely necessary. It’s frightened, which means it’s approaching a decision point. It might run away, or...”
“Or it might turn Seagull into a eunuch. I’m hoping for the latter.” Gold winked, kept his rifle trained on the big predator.
Segar began to whisper in what sounded like a made-up language. He drew circles in the air with his open palms. The cat didn’t move. Segar raised his voice, gestured forcefully. The cat snarled and tensed.
“Maybe it doesn’t understand the language,” Segar said. “I’ve only ever whispered to horses.”
“Everyone stand up straight, make yourself look as big as you can,” Maddock instructed them. “And make a lot of noise.”
Everyone but Segar and Gold did as they were told. They clapped their hands, stamped their feet, and shouted at the cat. It took a step backward. Maddock kicked a rock in its direction, and it flinched.
“Don’t worry, bromigos,” Dakota said. “I’ve got the solution.” He whipped out a vial of essential oil, unscrewed it, and waved it at the mountain lion. The others continued to make noise. Finally, the confused animal turned and slinked away.
“That’s a relief,” Kendra said.
“Most wild animals are shy and only want to be left alone,” Bones said. “If you can avoid triggering their defense instinct, you can usually stay out of trouble.”
“But sometimes, you have to bring out the big guns.” Dakota brandished his vial of oil. “And that’s not the only surprise hidden up my sleeve.”
Bones winced. “If it’s anything like Celebrity Sweat, count me out.”
