Chapter Fifteen

The man at the stationery store eyes me suspiciously as I check lottery numbers while eating a king-sized bag of Twizzler’s Cherry-Flavored Licorice. My card has no hits at all, rare enough, so I save it. Checking older numbers on a hanging chart, I fill a new lottery card. I avoid numbers that hit too much, but find it very difficult to concentrate with that man’s eyes peppering me.

Dear Sirs,

I admire your publication greatly and would like to add this to the recorded history concerning the south-west’s most notorious desperado, Billy the Kid. John Luna, an old family friend who recently passed away, God rest his soul, was a clerk who worked in the old Tunstall store in Lincoln, New Mexico. In the summer of 1935, he made an interesting discovery while cleaning out the basement for his then boss, Mr. Penfield. As he put old books and papers in boxes to throw away, a very old envelope, yellowed and tattered at the edges, fell to the floor. He picked it up, placed it in his pocket, and forgot about it until days later while he was doing laundry. When he opened the letter, it read:

Dear Mrs. MacSween,

I buried some money in the basement. If I die, there is no one else who deserves it more than you. Dig itup and start over.

Your friend,

Wm H. Bonney¹¹⁶

I finish off a “crispety-caramel” 100 Grand Bar and move on to a “crunchety-peanut” Butterfinger. I try to give the man a foul look, but he continues to eye me unimpressed. I open up a Dark Chocolate-Coconut Mounds Bar, “Indescribably Delicious.”

John eventually saved up enough money to purchase the old store from his boss, but he never found the buried treasure. He was saving up to purchase the old MacSween property as well in hopes of finding it there, but died before so doing. Shortly thereafter, the Rio Bonito river, flowing past Lincoln, changed its course and the town had to be abandoned.

Yours Truly,

Patrick Kennedy¹¹⁷

I fill in the last number and put the card away. No need to purchase it. I never buy a lottery ticket. It’s a much greater gamble to take a chance on losing a million dollars than on losing a mere buck. I’ve gambled millions of dollars this way and I haven’t lost once.

Outside, I’m relieved to be free of the store owner’s gaze. I polish off a Milky Way and move on to a 3 Musketeers Bar, “Big on Chocolate, Not on Fat!”, but I like it anyway. Relishing the slight nausea from eating too much too quick, I look forward to the first fresh milk in weeks. I’ll open a quart as soon as I get into the supermarket.

I pause before the entrance. Automatic doors swallow and spit out drudges laboring with satchels of goods. My chest tightens.