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The trail that led to Old Man’s Cave was picturesque. Bones enjoyed the view from within the gully. The layers and curves of glaciers, and then water, had cut over the centuries, carving into the stone...the moss and ferns and trees, some with gripping roots exposed as they sprouted and grew among the walls, clefts and overhangs...he took it all in. He examined the rock formations, such as the protrusion of rock extending from the rim above the gorge, almost like a thick surfboard, or a giant’s tongue.
That, he thought, might be one of the places where, at night, a ghost could be heard. Of course, if one ghost was talking to another, it didn’t look like a formation where two would stand and converse. Maybe one atop would speak to one below? He shook his head, thinking it might be too far from the cave itself.
Ghosts were interesting enough, but they weren’t his biggest interest, not compared to various cryptids. He’d have to do more reading up on them, ghosts and hauntings in the future. He’d seen plenty of paranormal, ghost-hunting shows. Maybe a few of those? Anyway, these would be ghosts of old white men. Trying to narrow the place where their voices might be heard, he’d have to think like them. He should start looking for the most idiotic locations possible.
Maybe he should ask Nelli? She was kind of hot, and they shared many of the same interests. Any girl who loved cryptids was a girl Bones could get on board with.
Maybe Derek and his friends...the humorous notion brought to mind the lingering, itching sense of being followed. He stopped and listened. Sensing something was amiss, even Nelli stopped talking.
Maddock apparently recognized the look on Bones’ face. He listened and scanned the rim above the gorge, then shook his head. Nothing. Obviously thinking about the treasure legend, Maddock asked, “You hearing voices?”
Bones shook his head again. “All this rain’s left water in my ears.”
Connie frowned. She scanned the overhanging canopy. Although the sky had temporarily cleared, wind above the gorge had begun whipping through the trees, rattling their leaf-filled branches. The walls of the gorge protected them from that, but probably wouldn’t protect them from the deluge that was on the way. “Looks like a storm’s coming.”
This time Maddock and Connie took the lead, picking up the pace. They made it through the tunnel and halfway across the arcing stone bridge that would deliver them at the foot of Old Man’s Cave when the sheets of water began cascading down.
With rain hoods up, all except for Bones who only had his leather jacket, they raced up the steps into the large cave cut into the sandstone stone. It reminded Bones more of an oblong amphitheater than a cave, reaching about fifty yards deep and its deepest point. But colloquial names tended to stick.
“Wow,” Nelli said. “Barely beat that one.”
After a boom of nearby thunder, Connie said, “We seem to be the only ones foolish enough to be out wandering the trails. At least we weren’t walking a rim trail.”
Nelli pulled back her rain jacket’s hood. “I think we should stay here a while.”
Connie began making her way across the cave, over to a stone pedestal with a metal plate on it. Nelli followed. Pointing to it, the younger sister said over her shoulder, “That tells the history of this cave, and I think it mentions the hermit who lived here.”
Maddock and Bones followed them over.
Nelli read the history, running a finger over the raised bronze lettering. “It names the hermit, Richard Rowe, but it doesn’t say anything about a treasure.”
“If there was one,” Connie said to her sister, “do you think the Park Service would write about it here?”
Nelli blushed. “Probably not.”
“Well,” Bones said with a smirk, “as long as we’re stuck here, why not look for any unmentioned hidden treasure? It’s sort of what me and Maddock do.”
Connie and Nelli walked the short distance to the north end of the cave and began searching together, discussing what to look for. With a more experienced eye, Maddock began at the south end, his eyes methodically following from top to bottom the sediment layers and formations, looking for something out of place. Bones moved to where the floor met the cave’s wall and did the same.
Within a few minutes, Nelli shouted, “Hey, Bones, come look at this!” Even though seemingly muffled by the downpour, her voice echoed off the walls.
Connie was running her fingers along a groove about six feet above the cave floor, right at the cave’s edge. She managed to avoid a narrow rivulet of rainwater streaming down, forming an overflowing puddle that drained over the ledge, down the sandstone cliff and into the creek below. Just as Bones arrived, and before Maddock was halfway there, Connie jumped back as a section of rock the size of a football dislodged and splashed into the puddle.
“What’d you find?” Nelli asked.
“Water coming down eroded the sandstone, around that rock.” Connie pushed the oblong stone with her boot, which looked more like gray limestone than the more common reddish sandstone. “My finger and rain coming down must’ve broke it loose.”
“Look!” Nelli said while reaching into the revealed cavity, the same time Bones and Maddock said, “Wait!”
She withdrew her hand, holding what looked like a brittle leather pouch. “What?” she said, almost dropping it.
“On archeological digs, they’re meticulous and take photographs and notes,” Connie explained.
“Oh well, this isn’t a dig.”
Maddock said to Nelli, “Your sister’s right. We really should have left it in situ and notified someone.”
“Might be nothing,” Bones said. “Is there anything inside the pouch?”
“Hold your hands out, Sis,” Nelli said and gently used her finger and thumb to open the pouch before dumping its contents into Connie’s cupped hands.
Triangular, glossy blue stones gleamed there, their worked edges glistening under the beam of Maddock’s Maglite.
“Turquoise arrowheads,” Connie said. She counted them. “Eleven.”
“Think they’re the treasure?” Nelli asked.
Bones carefully took the pouch and examined it while Maddock examined the cavity, pressing and digging with his fingers at the sandstone within.
“Need a boost, Maddock?”
When Maddock didn’t offer a retort, Bones began examining the brittle leather more closely. “Looks pretty old,” he said. “At least a century, maybe more.”
“Nothing else in here,” Maddock said, scrutinizing the area around the cavity with a practiced eye. “I think you’re right, Connie. This was probably hidden for a very long time. In any case, visitors’ hands, moisture freezing and thawing, the wind and rain slowly eroded the sandstone. My guess would be that someone would’ve discovered it in the next few weeks.”
He began taking photos with his cell phone, of the cavity, the path the eroding rain water continued to take, the rock sitting in the puddle below, and finally the pouch and arrowheads.
“Is eleven an important number to Native American beliefs?” Nelli asked Bones. “Do you think they’re ceremonial?”
“Only if you’re playing craps at an Indian casino.” Bones picked up and examined one of the arrowheads closely, wondering at its purpose. “These must have been ceremonial.”
“I’m not aware of any significant sources of turquoise in Ohio,” Nelli said.
Connie asked, “Doesn’t most of it come from out west?”
Nelli pursed her lips, thinking. “I remember something about turquoise mines or something like that in Pennsylvania.”
Connie looked at her sister with a raised eyebrow.
Defensively, Nelli said, “You know I got my M.B.A. at Penn State. Just one of those useless facts I heard somewhere.”
As Bones examined the arrowheads, he realized something was very wrong.
“These don’t look right,” he said.
“What’s that?” Maddock asked.
“Forget the turquoise. These arrowheads aren’t shaped like any Native American points I’ve ever seen. Not that I know them all, but still.” He held one out for Maddock to inspect.
The deep, blue stone was finely crafted, beveled along the edges and coming to a fine point. It lacked a stem. Nor did it have side or corner notches where the arrowhead would be affixed to the shaft. Instead, a single, deep notch was cut into the base, just the right width for the shaft to be fitted in.
“It’s almost like a Lanceolate point,” Bones said, “but those just have a small, shallow notch here.” He pointed to the base. “And see how this curved in on either side?”
Maddock nodded. “It almost looks like a claw.”
“Right. Lanceolate points aren’t usually shaped like that. They usually curve outward at the base, almost like a fish’s tail.” He scratched his head. “And the craftsmanship of these things. They’re refined. I don’t think they were made for everyday use.”
Maddock turned the arrowhead over in his hand. His eyes went wide.
“And this isn’t turquoise. It’s lapis lazuli.”
Bones knew his friend was correct. “Holy crap, you’re right,” he said, feeling foolish. “I was so focused on the shape I didn’t think about the material. That makes them seem even more...alien.”
“Where is lapis lazuli mined?” Nelli asked. “Anywhere in the States?”
“A couple places out west in very small quantities,” Maddock said. “But mostly it comes from Afghanistan. It was common in some parts of the ancient world. Egypt, for example. They used it on King Tut’s funeral mask. But it didn’t even reach Europe until the Middle Ages.”
“This is weird,” Nelli said. “What do we do with them? Put them back?”
Maddock shook his head. “We can’t leave the pouch and arrowheads here. Now that their hiding place has been uncovered, someone would come along and take them.”
“We’re in a state park,” Nelli warned. “We could get arrested. Fined or worse.”
“Only if we get caught.” Thinking of Tam Broderick, with her CIA and law enforcement connections, Bones added, “We know somebody who can help us out if we get into a tight spot; as long as it’s not too tight.”
“You do this all the time?” Connie asked.
The same time Maddock said, “Not all the time,” Bones said, “Pretty much.”
Bones took the arrowheads from Connie and slipped them back into the pouch.
“I’ve got a plastic bag in my drawstring bag,” Connie said, sliding it off. “If we got caught out in the rain too long, I was going to put my and Nelli’s cell phones in it.”
“Okay,” Maddock said. “You carry the arrowheads. Let’s get going.”
Bones slid the pouch into Connie’s plastic bag. “Where to?”
“Storm’s letting up,” Maddock said. “I think we found whatever treasure there is to find.”
Bones thought about the ghosts. “Maddock, who do you think hid those arrowheads? Maybe those two brothers or the hermit or someone is buried around here? I’m feeling lucky. Why don’t we look for a burial site?”
The two ladies looked at Maddock with pleading faces. Bones stood between them and rested a hand on each of their shoulders. “You that excited about hopping back in that dinky car?”
“There are two waterfalls down that way,” Connie said, pointing southwest. “Even if we don’t find anything, we’ve come this far. Why not get the full tour?”