“I was gonna get a motel room in Cumberland or La Vale, but I don’t have a reservation waiting.”

  “Tell you what, Roger. You can stay here tonight. We’ll have a good breakfast at nearby Linda’s Restaurant, and then we leave for Pittsburgh."

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “Only one catch. You get to stay in my daughter’s room. She’s staying with the cousins tonight. I hope you like Dora the Explorer and My Little Pony. She's into that stuff, and the whole room is themed that way."

  “Any little pink stuffed unicorns?”

  “Probably one or maybe even two.”

  Roger said, “Okay, the pink unicorns closed the deal.” He paused. “Would you mind if I cleaned up and went to bed? It’s been a long drive today, and I'd like to turn in early if that would be okay?"

  “Do that. I was thinking of doing the same. Jo’s already down for the night, and she’ll probably be up several times tonight with the baby. We can all turn in early and get an early start tomorrow. The bathroom’s over next to Miriah’s room. Lock the back door when you come in after getting your stuff from your vehicle. We can talk on the way to the airport tomorrow.”

  “That’s good by me. See you in the morning.”

  "Good night." Tom went into the next room, and Roger could hear his footsteps on the stairs. He'd slept in some themed rooms before, mainly with Western and cowboy décor, but this would be a first for Dora and My Little Pony, but the price was right, and he shouldn't look a gift horse or pony in the mouth. Maybe he’d dream of sweet things and sugar plums.

  ***

  The next morning, the men were up at daybreak and sitting at Linda’s at 6:01. Their orders came quickly, and they were out of there at 6:30. They crossed the Potomac River into Cumberland, Maryland. Tom pointed to Roger, "Upon that hill where all the steeples are today, General Braddock started his ill-fated journey from Fort Cumberland where he and over 600 of his men died near present-day Pittsburgh. We'll be following much of his route today. How much do you know about these events?"

  “Some, not a whole lot, I must admit and certainly much less than you do. You can tell me about it as we go. As I’ve gotten older, I enjoy history more. It made us who and what we are today. Back when I was in school and college, all I thought about was chasing skirts. History was something to get through, not really learn from.”

  “I’ll do that. Want some more coffee? I’ll buy.”

  “Sure, especially if it’s on your dime.”

  They stopped at the nearby Sheetz store on Greene Street. As they were getting out, a poorly dressed woman approached Tom. “Hello Tom, got time to talk?”

  “No Carole, I don’t. Can it wait?’

  "Yeah, I think so. Could you buy a girl who's down on her luck some breakfast?"

  “Sure Carole. Here’s a fiver. That enough?”

  "Yeah Tom. That's enough. Thanks for all you've done for me."

  She hurried into the store. Roger looked at Tom and asked, “Who was that?”

  “That’s Carole, aka Crazy Carole. She’s one of the local street people with mental problems. I try to help her when I can. She’s still off her meds, I can tell. She’s told me some interesting stories recently. You wouldn’t believe them if I told you.”

  “No kidding? Try me.”

  “She talks to the Death Angel.”

  “Really?”

  "Really and some of the things she tells me are spot on."

  “I know a guy like that in Florida. He seems like he’s not quite in sync with the world. He kind of drifts off to another world at times. Say, Tom, just get me a large black coffee, and I'll wait in the car."

  “Sure.”

  A few minutes later, they were on Interstate 68 going west. “Braddock and his men, along with George Washington, cut their way through the wilderness. It was back-breaking work. They traveled a route often parallel to the new road. In places, the highway’s covered up Braddock’s path. They were lucky to make ten miles a day. At Keysers Ridge, the new road diverges from his trail. US 40 is close to the old trail until Connellsville, Pennsylvania. At that point, it turns north. Some people say this is where the gold was buried. I've heard other stories anywhere from there east to Alexandria where they started. I've heard stories that give credibility to all of these. No one knows where it is today, but lately, it seems to be turning up around Fort Ashby."

  “Is that where you think it is?”

  “Some of it’s there for sure, maybe all of it, or at least the information to its location. I can feel it in my innards. I think my gut knows where its hidden location is in my head, and it's trying to tell me to get ready for the storm it will set off.”

  “You could be right. Hey, look at that!”

  Not a hundred feet in front of them, a black bear raced across the highway. "Bear," Tom said. "Getting to be a lot of them. Seems like once a week, there's a report in the paper of one being struck. The bear usually dies."

  “First one I’ve ever seen up here in my life. They’re having a great deal of trouble with them around Orlando as the metropolitan area spreads north into bear habitat. Bears frightening residents, eating out of trash cans, and of course, getting hit by vehicles.”

  "Up here, deer are a far bigger problem with encounters with cars. The population has exploded, and people are hunting less. If you drive a car in West Virginia or the area, sooner or later, you’re gonna hit a deer or two. You may even see them in your dreams. Hey, swing through Morgantown. I want to see what the old place looks like. Haven’t been there in a while.”

  Roger followed Tom’s directions through the town. So much remained the same, but so much had changed. He couldn’t believe where they were building, tearing down the hills and filling in the valleys. They crossed the Star City Bridge and were soon back on Interstate 79 headed towards Pittsburgh. They stopped at the Pennsylvania rest stop where they saw two monuments, one to miners killed in an explosion years ago and one to a mine labor leader who was murdered by his rival. Roger found a brochure on Braddock’s Battlefield History Center and showed it to Tom, who said, “Can’t say I’ve ever been there, but I’ve been told it’s a top-notch place.”

  Roger looked at the brochure. “I think I’ll stop on the way back. I should have plenty of time. The viewing tonight’s from 6 to 8 PM. Lots of time.”

  “By all means, do. I like to explore local areas when I travel. I’ve seen and learned many interesting things. We better get moving. That plane isn’t going to wait. The airlines and me have an agreement. They can leave without me if I’m late.”

  They got back on the highway. Tom found a country radio station, and Willie Nelson was singing about being back on the road again. The boys sang along. They passed Washington, Pennsylvania, and the dangerous turn where Interstates 70 and 79 intersect. Tom told Roger that Perry Como and Bobby Vinton were from Canonsburg as they passed the many small towns. Lots of celebrities were from western Pennsylvania-Jimmy Stewart, Arnold Palmer, Mr. Rogers, Andy Warhol, Joe Namath, Nellie Bly, and others.

  Traffic became heavier the nearer they got to Pittsburgh. They exited I 79 onto US 22 West and after a short ten minutes, arrived at the airport terminal. Roger popped the trunk on his car, and Tom took his luggage out. "Hey bud, you have a good trip, and I hope everything works out well for you in the Big Rez," Roger said.

  "I do too. I'm not sure what ceremonies Navajos have for death rituals, if any, and all in his family are Christians, so it could be a mix of Indian tradition and Western. I’ll find out soon enough. I want to thank you so much for this favor. In some ways, it seems like I’ve known you forever, and we last talked yesterday instead of over a decade ago.”

  “We did talk yesterday, but I know what you’re trying to say. I guess that's the way it is between friends." He stuck out his hand, and they shook. "Oh, Tom, I forgot to tell you last evening. I did check on where that Benefactor fellow could be watching you. Me and the dog went all the way up the hill just stoppin’ where the fog engulfed the top. The only place other than from a satellite to see the top of the mountain and also behind the house by the barn was from the top of a ridge to the east where I saw a blinking red light.”

  “I know the one you’re talking about. I think it’s a cell tower or maybe a fire tower. I’m not sure which, but it’s been there for some time. It’s probably nothing, but thanks for looking.”

  “You’re welcome. Good luck with your task. I’ll stop over at that Braddock’s Battlefield Place.”

  “I think it’s correctly called Braddock’s Battlefield History Center. Either way, there should be a map in the brochure.”

  “There is. It shouldn’t be too hard to find,” Roger said. “You take care, bud. I’ll give you a call if I find anything that could be useful in solving your puzzle.”

  “Thanks. I better go if I don’t want to miss my flight. See you later.” Tom said and walked toward the terminal door.

  “Good luck,” Roger yelled.

  Tom turned, waved, and disappeared into the building. Roger got back in the car, and the airport became smaller and smaller in his rearview mirror until it disappeared. What would he find at the history center? Lots of information, but would any of it help Tom?

  Chapter 21

  Roger followed the route through Pittsburgh towards his destination. Traffic slowed on Greentree Hill, barely more than 25 mph with stop and go traffic. At the bottom of the hill, he entered a long tunnel, and to his surprise, traffic speed actually increased. He exited the tunnel and immediately was on a bridge over the Monongahela River. The Golden Triangle, where three rivers met, had been the objective of General Braddock. There Fort Duquesne, the French stronghold, had been. Skyscrapers and a football stadium occupied land where vast and dense forests had once grown.

  He took Exit 78 off the interstate and wound his way through the crooked and winding streets of the town of Braddock. The area deteriorated as he drove. The economic revival of Pittsburgh had missed this area. The road grew very rough. He pulled into the parking lot at the Braddock’s Battlefield History Center. The building appeared well kept and maintained. Someone was taking great pride in how this place looked.

  Roger walked into the building, and a smiling middle-aged man greeted him. "Hello, welcome to Braddock's Battlefield History Center. Have you been here before?"

  “No, I can’t say I have.”

  “Well, this is the site of the 1755 Battle of the Monongahela during the French and Indian War. The British commander, General Edward Braddock, received his fatal wound here, and over 600 men under him also died in his great defeat. It was Native American’s second greatest victory in American history.”

  “Not Custer and Little Big Horn?”

  “That battle actually rates as number ten. Most of the Indians' greatest victories were in the eastern half of this country, and few people know this."

  Roger said, “You can learn something new every day.”

  “Braddock was successful in that he moved a 2000 man army via buffalo paths over mountains and rivers, an incredible task, and almost reached his goal. If not for a perfect storm of events that went against him and his forces, he would have reached his objective and succeeded.”

  “Very interesting. Say, this area looks a little depressed today. What happened?”

  "This area, battlefield and all, was covered with steel mills. They closed years ago, and it's been an uphill struggle to turn things around. This museum is part of that effort."

  “Is there a charge, and could you tell me more?”

  "A minimal charge of $5.00. We have a movie you can view of the battle and events leading up to and following it. You can view artifacts found on the battlegrounds. We have a room dedicated to George Washington. His heroic actions in the battle and afterward saved many lives and were one of the main reasons he was asked to become the chief officer of the Revolutionary War Continental Army years later.”

  “Okay, here’s a fiver. Will you be available for questions afterward?”

  "I should be. I'm expecting a slow day. Yesterday was crazy. The parking lot was full of tour buses. We'd been expecting some. They called ahead, but the other half merely showed up. I called for help from some volunteers who live local. Even with them, I was stretched thin. It was great for business, but I'm not getting any younger. A slow day would be just fine with me."

  "Okay, thanks. I know I'll have questions afterward. Thanks for the information.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Roger looked at the exhibits and watched the movie. He learned much, but nothing on Braddock’s Gold. In the gift shop, he saw many items for sale related to the battlefield. A book rack held about 40 different books, all connected in some way to the events that had happened here. He purchased a small refrigerator magnet and a T-shirt. Roger saw the man who had greeted him as he left the room. “Do you have some time for a few questions, mister…?”

  “My name’s Bert Tesser. I’m the curator, tour guide, custodian, and the one who does any other jobs that need doing around here. Last week, I was the plumber who fixed a stopped-up sink P-trap. I do it all.”

  Roger said, “It’s nice to have many talents.” He stuck his hand out. “I’m Roger Pyles. I work with the Canaveral Flats and Brevard County Florida Police Departments, Criminal Investigations, and Forensics.”

  “What brings you to the Pittsburgh area all the way from Florida? Are we under investigation?”

  Roger smiled, “No, you’re not under investigation by anyone in the Sunshine State as far as I know. My father-in-law died in the Cumberland, Maryland area. The funeral is tomorrow, and a friend who lives there had an emergency come up. He needed a ride to the Pittsburgh Airport, so I drove him to it. I’m on my way back to Cumberland. He said this would be a good place to stop. I have a few questions. You could be helpful. Have you ever heard of Braddock’s Gold?”

  “Yes, the lost gold payroll of the general? Do you want me to tell you where it is so you can dig it up and become rich?”

  “Not really.”

  Mr. Tesser sighed. “We have people stopping in all the time asking us to tell them the location.”

  “Like X marks the spot?”

  “Exactly. Have they never thought perhaps if I knew where the gold was, I’d have dug it up myself?”

  “That’s funny. Where do you think the gold is?"

  “In all honesty, I don’t know. People have argued about what happened to it since the battle. Was it lost? If lost, was it ever found, and by who? What did they do with it? Or is it still lost? If it was buried, where was it hidden?

  Just like as with events today, there was a disinformation campaign spun about what happened to it after Braddock's defeat. If it were lost, it would have been in enemy-controlled territory — no point in having the French look and find it. Then shortly afterward, the American Revolution took place, and the Brits would certainly not want their former allies to have it and use British gold against the King and his soldiers. I’ve heard speculation from Alexandria, Virginia, to this very battlefield. I don’t know. All I know for sure is there's a lot of interest in the subject, and it seems to be growing."

  “How so?”

  "You see articles in newspapers and magazines and even TV on the legend. Why just last week, a gentleman visited and asked some specific and informed questions about the subject. He said he owned a newspaper chain and was interested in publishing a major piece on the legend and mystery of the whereabouts of the lost gold payroll."

  “So, do you happen to remember his name?”

  Mr. Tesser thought for a moment. “He did give a name. What was it? It started with a G, I think. Hmm, perhaps Golightly or something like that. Sorry, I can’t be more helpful.”

  “In your opinion, for what it’s worth, what do you think happened to it?”

  "If I were a betting man, which I'm not, I'd say it was lost and may still be out there, but I'm not sure. It seems bits and pieces have turned up since the battle, never a huge cache at any one time, but small amounts years and years apart."

  Roger said, “So you think there’s more to be found?”

  “I do, but I’m not interested in seeking.”

  “Why not?”

  “Seems like great riches also attracts great dangers, and I for one, don't think it’s worth the troubles it could bring. I pity the person who would find it.”

  Roger nodded, “Yes, I’ve seen men kill each other for far less.”

  “The love of money is the root of all kinds of evil.”

  “Sounds like something my late wife would have said. God rest her soul. Mr. Tesser, thank you so much for your time. It’s been a pleasure to talk with you.”

  “Likewise, Mr. Pyles. I wish you could have been up in this area under better circumstances. May you have a safe trip back home. Sorry to hear about the death in the family.”

  “He was a good Christian man and is probably at this minute bringing my wife, his daughter, up to speed on all that’s happened. And seeing my son, his grandson, again.”

  “Are you a believer, Mr. Pyles?”

  “No, my wife and her family are and were. I’d like to believe they’re right. I’m leaning in that direction, but I still have my questions. Maybe, one day faith will overcome my doubt, maybe.”

  “In that case, Mr. Pyles, I pray you good fortune in your journeys, whether the one back to Florida or your spiritual sojourn. May you arrive safely home. Now, I see a bus pulling into the lot, and I better be ready for the onslaught. I’m sure you understand. Goodbye, Mr. Pyles.”

  “Goodbye to you, Mr. Tesser. Thanks again for your time." Roger turned and exited the door, but a group of teenagers nearly stampeded him. He got in his car and soon found his way back to the interstate. He hated paying the high tolls on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, but he should have time to think as he drove. What has Tom gotten himself into? Could anything I’ve seen or heard while here help Tom? And how’s he doing out on the Navajo Reservation?

  Chapter 22

  Albuquerque International Airport, New Mexico

 

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