“Ladies, we’ve wandered off topic. We’re here to solve Lauren’s problem.” Molly smiled at Lauren. “Bonnie has told us all about finding you on the forum, and how she wanted to help you realize your dream. We want to see you succeed. So, we thought we’d do some brainstorming. Linda, what have you got so far?”

  The lady with the notepad consulted her notes. “Alice talked to a state senator. Bea suggested a contest for inventors. Rosemary is pro forgiveness.”

  “Rosemary has a good point, but it doesn’t really apply to Lauren’s problem,” Molly commented.

  Bonnie reached into her tote bag. “This is a sample of some goat milk soap Lauren and I made yesterday.”

  “Oh, very nice,” Rosemary reached across the table for the flower-shaped soap. “The texture is lovely. How did you get this blue color?”

  “From red cabbage leaves,” Lauren explained. “Boiled down and concentrated, they make a sort of intense blue syrup.”

  “I have a booth at the Saturday Market in Anchorage,” Rosemary said. “I sell honey, along with beads and crystals. If you’d like, you can come along and sell your soaps there. Can you have enough by Saturday?”

  Lauren had intended to make cheese with Spritz’s milk this week, but if she couldn’t sell the cheese and she could sell the soap, why not? “This soap won’t be cured for another month or so, but if I use a water discount, I could have some ready for the Saturday after next. In the meantime, I have some I made in Oregon and brought with me that I could sell this week. Thank you.”

  “The soap is a good idea, but where can we get our hands on some serious money?” Bea mused.

  “I’m considering looking for a job,” Lauren said. “If I get up early enough, I’d have time to milk the goats before I leave and then after I get home, and I’d have weekends for maintenance and projects. Eventually, I might be able to save up enough—”

  “But that would leave Bonnie alone all day,” Alice pointed out. “If you do that, Patrick will be nagging her to move again.”

  “I’m not leaving the farm. Not until I find that nugget and stick it in Anthony Clark’s face,” Bonnie growled. “Once I do that, we can talk about forgiveness.”

  “The nugget! Of course.” Molly beamed. “You and Lauren just need to find that nugget. How big is it?”

  “A little over five pounds,” Bonnie said.

  “With the price of gold at around fourteen hundred a troy ounce, fourteen and a half troy ounces in a pound—” Linda scribbled on her pad “—it would be worth somewhere in the neighborhood of a hundred thousand dollars.”

  “Last I heard, the family had offered to double that amount as a reward for its safe return,” Alice said.

  “So, there you are.” Molly declared. “Find the nugget, and you’re golden.”

  All six of them were looking at Lauren, waiting for her to agree. She took another sip of tea to buy herself a moment. Were they really suggesting treasure hunting as a viable option? “If we were to find the nugget on Bonnie’s farm, the reward would belong to Bonnie.”

  “I don’t care about the reward,” Bonnie said. “I just want to make Anthony Clark eat his words. If you’ll help me hunt for the nugget, you can keep the reward.”

  “I can see you’re hesitant,” Alice said to Lauren. “But why not give it until the end of summer? If you find the nugget, your problems are solved. If you don’t, are you worse off than you are today?”

  Maybe she was right. If Lauren concentrated on making milk soap from the goats she had now, she could probably meet the goats’ feed and vet bills while they hunted. Bonnie watched her, her eyes wide and encouraging. Lauren smiled. “Okay. Yes. Let’s do it!”

  “All right!” Bonnie held up her hand. Lauren laughed and slapped her a high five. The ladies cheered.

  Linda wrote Find Nugget on her notepad and underlined it. “Excellent. And if you’re going treasure hunting, I know someone you should talk to. I’ll set up a meeting ASAP.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  EARLY SATURDAY MORNING, Lauren checked the new gate latch she’d installed and took inventory of her herd. All her remaining pregnant does had given birth the past week, and six new baby kids had joined the family. Of the twelve kids now wandering about in the pasture, nine were female which boded well for her future milking herd, assuming she still had the herd at the end of the summer.

  Between the births, the arrival and setup of the new milking machine, and scrambling to produce enough soap to sell at the market, Lauren and Bonnie had found very little time to devote to treasure hunting. But Linda had arranged a meeting with a historian in Anchorage after the Saturday Market closed. Maybe he would give them something to go on.

  Just as Lauren reached the house, she spotted a car coming up the drive. A Subaru so ancient it was hard to distinguish the color pulled up in front of the door, and Rosemary climbed out. “Ready to go?” A slight breeze ruffled her ankle-length cotton skirt and caught at the hem of her cardigan.

  “Sure. Let me just grab my boxes and see if Bonnie needs anything before we go.”

  “I’m just fine.” Bonnie stepped onto the porch carrying one of the soap boxes. “You two go ahead. But if that booth that sells the peanut butter fudge is still there, you might pick me up a quarter pound.”

  “Will do,” Lauren promised as she gathered up the other box and set it in Rosemary’s car. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

  “No, I’m going with Molly to buy some seedlings and help her with her planter boxes today. You can give me a hand with planting our vegetable garden tomorrow afternoon if you like.”

  “It’s a date. See you later.” Lauren shut the tailgate of the Subaru.

  “Oh, by the way,” Bonnie said, “if you should talk to Patrick before he comes back from the slope, let’s not mention the nugget.”

  “Why would I talk to Patrick?”

  “I don’t know but if you do, keep the plan to yourself. It’s better explained in person.”

  “I won’t say a thing,” Lauren promised as she climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door. “Wonder what that was about.”

  Rosemary chuckled. “I suspect she probably let something slip last time Patrick called, and she’s worried he’ll call you to check up on her.”

  Lauren laughed. It was sweet, how Patrick worried about his grandmother. The drive to Anchorage took about an hour. It was Lauren’s first trip to the city and the high-rise hotels and office buildings downtown were a big change from Palmer. The market was bigger than she’d expected, filling a large lot not far from the train station on the edge of downtown. Down below she could see ocean, with a snow-capped mountain range on the other side.

  She helped Rosemary set up a tent and tables, and then spread their wares for shoppers to see. “I sell honey from my own bees and two other beekeepers as well. There’s a little initial on the price tag of each jar of honey,” Rosemary explained. “As you sell them, keep track here.”

  “How about the beads and jewelry?” Lauren asked, looking over the colorful stock.

  “They’re all mine, but I try to note each sale to help with inventory. You’ll probably want to do the same with your soaps. Nice labels.”

  “Thanks.” With Bonnie’s help, Lauren had designed and printed out bands from her computer to wrap the soaps.

  “‘Now and Forever Farm.’ I like it. I don’t suppose your phone is set up to take credit cards?”

  “No.” Darn, Lauren should have thought of that.

  “Don’t worry, mine is. We’ll just keep track and settle up later. Here come our first customers.”

  A pair of high school–age girls greeted Rosemary by name and stopped to look. “What’s new?”

  “I just got in these Himalayan beads.” Rosemary pointed at some long beads with coral and turquoise inset among an intricate silver design. “And the goat’s milk soap is new.”

  “Milk soap?” One of the girls picked up a bar. “It’s pretty. Can I smell it?”

  “Sure. I have some unwrapped bars so you can feel and smell it.” Lauren reached under the table for her samples.

  The girl sniffed it and handed it to her friend. “Nice.”

  “My grandma would love this,” the other girl said. “I’ll take a bar.” She picked up a wire bracelet with a pink-and-green stone. “What does this one do?”

  “Fluorite is good for focus and mental clarity,” Rosemary replied.

  “Just what I need. I’m taking my driver’s exam next week. I’ll take it, too.”

  After the girls left, Lauren took a closer look at Rosemary’s jewelry. “I didn’t realize the stones in your jewelry have special meaning.”

  “All stones have meaning,” Rosemary replied. She picked up a keychain with an odd, shiny stone with many facets attached. “Even pyrite, fool’s gold, offers power and protection. Many crystals offer healing.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “I do.” Rosemary smiled. “The mind and the body can’t be separated. If a crystal helps focus the mind on healing, then isn’t that all for the good?”

  “I never thought of it like that.”

  Rosemary snapped her fingers. “Blue lace agate.” She picked up a pendant with a polished blue stone hanging from a leather cord. “Insight and communication. That’s what you’ll need for your treasure hunt.” She slipped the cord over Lauren’s head.

  “Insight, hmm? I could definitely use some help with that.” Lauren picked up the stone to examine the white and gray bands that ran across the clear blue. “It’s very pretty.” She reached for her wallet.

  “It’s a gift,” Rosemary said.

  “Oh, but I—”

  Rosemary laid a hand on her arm. “It gives me joy to be able to give you this gift. Your job is simply to accept it and say thank you.”

  Lauren could feel her cheeks growing warm. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Rosemary smiled and patted her hand.

  They got busy with customers after that and didn’t have a chance to talk much more until the end of the day. Lauren did find a few minutes to locate Bonnie’s peanut butter fudge and pick up gyros for Rosemary and herself from one of the food trucks.

  By the end of the day, Rosemary’s inventory of honey had diminished considerably, and Lauren had sold out of soaps. A quick calculation assured Lauren that the profits from the soap should be enough to keep the goats fed for another week. If she could increase production over the next few weeks, she might even be able to put a little aside. But the market ran only through the summer, and goats ate all year round.

  She and Rosemary packed the car, and Rosemary drove her to the address Linda had given them with five minutes to spare. A brown picket fence with the house number faced the street. “Just give me a call when you’re done and I’ll pick you up,” Rosemary told her.

  “You’re not coming in?”

  “No. I have errands, and besides, this quest belongs to you and Bonnie. Good luck.”

  “Thanks.” Lauren fingered the stone Rosemary had given her as she watched her drive away. A quest. She liked that. Not some pie-in-the-sky dream, but a concrete goal that—with enough hard work and good luck—was achievable.

  She turned and walked under a curved arbor and into the front yard. The historian lived in an ordinary-looking home with an extraordinary garden. Instead of a lawn, the sidewalk bisected beds of flowers and ferns. Pink tulips underplanted with tiny purple pansies bordered the white railing on the front porch. An enormous basket of pink-and-white fuchsias dangled like a chandelier from the beam overhead.

  Lauren stepped onto the porch and rang the bell, disturbing a fluffy white cat who had been sunning himself on a bench cushion. He stretched, and then jumped down and wound around her ankles. By the time the door opened, she was holding the cat, tickling him under his chin and making him purr.

  “Ah, I see you’ve met Bastet. You must be Lauren. Come in.”

  “Hello, Professor Jankowski. Thanks for meeting with me.” Lauren set the cat on the floor, where he dashed between the man’s feet and disappeared into the house.

  “Albert, please. Let’s go to my study.” He led her through a sunny parlor and into a cozy room with a scarred wooden desk and two yellow wingchairs in front of a fireplace. Other than the fireplace and window, every vertical surface was covered with overflowing bookshelves. A round table between the chairs held a book titled Lost Treasures of Alaska.

  He motioned that she should sit and picked up the book. “I was pleased when Rosemary told me you were taking up the search for Bradley’s Heart.” He opened the book to a marked spot about halfway through and handed it to her. “This was what I found. You can read it later.”

  Lauren could feel his eyes on her as she skimmed the first page of the chapter. “James Bradley sounds like quite a character.”

  “Indeed.” Albert gave an encouraging smile. “One thing I’ve learned in my studies—treasures are seldom found by random searches. Most of the time, it’s examining the history of the characters involved that solves the mystery.”

  “Interesting. I’ve wondered why anyone would carry a valuable gold nugget in his pocket with no protection. My friend Bonnie says James Bradley was notoriously cheap—”

  “Ah, yes.” Albert chuckled. “He had quite the reputation for thrift. They tell the story that while traveling in the Lower 48, he once drove fifty miles out of his way to avoid going over a toll bridge. However, my theory is that he didn’t use a taxi or a bodyguard on the day he transferred the nugget because he felt there was no need, since his appointment with Jack Harrison, the intended recipient, wasn’t public knowledge.”

  “That doesn’t look good for Harrison,” Lauren said thoughtfully, “although why would he rob the man who was already giving him the nugget?”

  “Oh, I can think of several reasons, the most obvious being he could keep it for himself rather than donate it to the museum. However, I’m fairly certain that Harrison had nothing to do with the robbery. Were you aware that William Golson, the convicted robber, worked at the front desk of the hotel where Bradley was living?”

  “Really? So, Golson may have gotten wind of the exchange in advance.”

  “Golson was, in fact, the employee who retrieved the nugget from the hotel safe for Bradley. No one was there to witness the conversation, but it wouldn’t have been out of character for Bradley to mention his plans. He was a friendly fellow.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “What fascinates me is Golson’s history. Prior to this robbery, he had no criminal background. The hotel manager states that he was a hardworking and reliable employee. In his job, Golson would have had opportunities to pilfer, but there’s no evidence he ever had, nor that he was prone to violence. In fact, according to the police record, Bradley states that the masked robber was polite, almost apologetic in fact.”

  “I thought the robber assaulted him and broke his hip.”

  “One newspaper reported it that way, but the police report contradicts that story. According to Bradley, he handed over the nugget, but then he tried to grab the gun and was injured in the struggle when he fell. Golson could have shot him, but he dropped the gun and ran instead. Overall, he seemed to be a peaceable man. And yet, something drove him to commit robbery.”

  “Do you have any theories about what it might have been?”

  “My only clue is from the arresting officer. You remember, Golson hid out in an abandoned cabin near Palmer for three weeks before the troopers caught up with him.”

  “Yes, my friend Bonnie owns the farm where the cabin sits.”

  He nodded. Linda must have explained that. “When the officer arrested him, he reports Golson was crying, muttering something about a woman.”

  “You think Golson committed the robbery to impress a woman?”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “Who was the woman?”

  “That, we don’t know. I’ve not been able to interview anyone with more than a nodding acquaintance with Golson.”

  “I’ve been wondering—why Palmer? He committed the crime in Anchorage. You’d think he’d either hide out there and continue to show up at work to throw off suspicion, or he’d try to get as far away as possible.”

  “Familiarity, perhaps? He attended high school in Palmer. Golson was orphaned at the age of fifteen and went to live with his grandparents. His grandfather was a farmhand, and they lived in a small house on the dairy farm where he worked. Golson would have ridden the same school bus as the children who lived in the cabin where he hid out, so he knew it was there.”

  “Would he have known it was abandoned?”

  “I have to assume he did. His grandfather had died, and his grandmother moved in with a relative in Soldotna by that time, but perhaps Golson had friends in Palmer he visited. Golson died in prison three years after his trial, and his grandmother died shortly afterward, so I wasn’t able to interview her.”

  Lauren glanced at the chapter again and then set the book on the table. “Do you believe the nugget is hidden somewhere on the farm, or are we kidding ourselves?”

  The professor gave a wry smile. “Well, that’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question, isn’t it? Or more like two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand, which is the reward the Bradley family was offering, last I heard. Many journalists at the time assumed Golson had already handed off the nugget to an accomplice before he left Anchorage, but that doesn’t ring true to me.”

  He picked up the book, turned it over in his hands and set it down. “Golson was not a habitual criminal, and he was a loner. If the first he knew about the nugget transfer was when Bradley removed it from the hotel safe the evening before, that would have only given him about twelve hours to find an accomplice. Not likely. I think he probably hid the nugget, and certainly, given the time frame, the area around the cabin is the most obvious place. When his fingerprints matched those on the gun, he pled guilty to robbery but refused to divulge the whereabouts of the nugget. He probably planned to serve out his sentence and go after it.”

 

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