Page 71 of Those Heartless Boys

I never liked Marilyn all that much, but she’s still Stone’s mother. He must be worried sick about her. The worst part is the not knowing. I understand that more than anyone. She could be at their whim. Or she could’ve just left, deciding to spend time by herself after my father went missing. We don’t know, but I have a feeling Stone thinks the worst.

If he’s right, I feel sorry for her.

“I might have something else,” I say, my voice pitching low. My father and I always talked about the safe in whispers, even though it was always just us. Dad was paranoid on the best of days. The guys move forward, resting their elbows on the table as they lock gazes with me. My stomach clenches. I’m about to tell these guys something my father never wanted out. He only ever wanted it for Wilder’s eyes only, but the circumstances have changed. If he wouldn’t let me use what we have to help save the guys in front of me, surely, he wouldn’t mind if I used it to help save me. I’m just as much in this as they are. “My father kept his most important documents somewhere else. I know where,” I say right away because I can just see the question on the tip of Stone’s tongue. “I’ll show you,” I tell them, but I point to the contract, my heart seeping a little for what I’m doing to my father right now. “This is in full effect.”

“You have our word.”

When I look around the table, I don’t even need to hear them say it to know it’s true. We’re in this together. From here on out, we deal with everything as a collective, not a single unit among others. And I’m almost frightened by the calm that comes over me when I realize that’s what’s happening. I’m no longer the freak, Dakota Wilder. Well, I still may be a freak, but I’m Dakota Wilder with her trio of guys, and we’re going to search for the treasure until we find it.

We don’t have another choice.

32

We sit in the car in front of the house my grandfather built. I haven’t made a move to get out yet, so I guess that’s why everyone in the vehicle with me hasn’t moved either. They’re all waiting on my cue. They’re not pushing me to do this. It’s on my terms.

Guilt still churns in my stomach though. If it didn’t, I’d be worried about me. The number of times I’ve had it drilled into my head that these were Wilder secrets could probably amount to the gold we’ve been chasing.

Lucas squeezes my hand in the backseat. It’s not a nudge, it’s a motion to make sure I’m okay, but it does spur me into movement. I know what we need to do. It may not seem like it, but I’m doing this for my father. If he’s still somewhere up in those mountains, I’m going to bring him home. Alive or dead. If he got mixed up in the same thing the Jacobs have, then I’m going to find him and bring him home from that, too.

I throw the door open, and it releases the floodgates for everyone else’s movement too. They follow me out of the car and toward the garage. I use my key to open the rickety door and stick my hand just inside, searching for the shovel handle. My fingers pass through spiderwebs as I go, but I finally find the handle and pull it out, shutting and locking the garage once I have it.

Nodding, I take them around the back of the house, and we start walking. Our land is about as dry as the desert. Very few tufts of vegetation sprout out here and there, but it’s mostly a walk through hard-packed dirt, the ground cracked because of the arid climate. “My family has owned this land for centuries,” I say offhandedly. “My great great great great—honestly, I’ve forgotten how far back it goes—but he was around when they built Clary. When the gold rush happened, we were here. He bought this land.” The truth is, we own acres upon acres. I used to play outside for ages when I was a kid, exploring all kinds of things. My father never minded as long as I didn’t go off our property, which gave me a bunch of leeway. Once we’re a ways back from the road, I point out a decaying structure that’s skinned right down to the timbers. “That was the original house.”

The guys let me talk as we traverse the walk to the safe. Wyatt takes the shovel from me, though, and I miss having it to keep my hands busy.

“Who built the house you grew up in?” Lucas asks.

“My granddad. When they put the road through, it only made sense to have the house near the road, so they abandoned the family house which was falling down anyway and built that one. Can you believe the Wilders used to be well off?” I chuckle to myself. My family has sunk every penny we ever earned into finding the treasure.

“I’ve heard the story a million times, but you know I’ve never heard it from a Wilder,” Wyatt says. “You mind tellin’ it?”

I know the story inside and out. It was my bedtime story for many years. This story made me think anything was possible. The story that sounded like it jumped right out of a book, a fairy tale come to life. The thing about fairy tales is, they end happily. My family has been waiting around for our happy for a hundred years.

“The story is,” I say, unable to help the smile that tugs at my lips. It’s no wonder that I grew up loving to read. I wanted to immerse myself in stories wherever I was. Not just the one I was living, but others, too. “My great great great you know,” I tease. “He not only stumbled across the richest gold vein in the Superstitions, but one day while he was mining it, he decided to explore the caves nearby. He twisted this way and that through the tunnels of rock as he traversed the dark stone tunnels until he came across a set of dusty old sacks. People find a lot of shit up in the Superstitions, so he just nudged them aside with his foot, but when he did, he heard the tinkling of metal.”

I stop, remembering the way my father used to get overly animated as he told me the story. It always amazed me that these stories were told to generations and generations of Wilder’s. The same words passed down over the years. “Thinking it was a competitor’s mining tools on his claim, he ripped the drawstring bag open. When he did, the bag practically disintegrated in his hands, and what poured out was the most beautiful array of colors he’d ever seen. In the light of the waning candle, the glittering jewels lit up the cave, splashing it in an array of colors that was just like a true-to-life rainbow in the center of a mountain.”

A smile pulls at Lucas’s lips. Wyatt kicks at a plant, causing dust to plume in front of us, and Stone just listens silently.

“Well, my great great great you know Granddad almost had a heart attack. He opened up all the bags, gleaming at the treasure before his eyes. There was gold, silver, and jewels. The prettiest jewelry one could ever imagine. He put everything right back where it was before he packed up his gear and went home. For ages, he acted like nothing happened. You know how secretive mining can be. He never told anyone about the vein he was on, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell anyone that he stumbled upon a treasure the likes no one had ever seen before. Secretly, he did his homework, wondering what in the world he’d come across. When his sons were old enough, he started taking them to the cave, showing them not only how to mine the gold, but the treasure he’d found years ago.”

“It happened like that,” I say, “Every Wilder passing it on to their children. Did you know I’m the only Wilder child in history who isn’t a male? Dad said that never mattered though because I have a heart of gold and the smarts, too.”

Lucas leans over and presses a kiss to my cheek. “He’s right, you know.” He beams at me, then asks, “How did the secret get out?”

My blood curdles. “When my great great great you know grandfather had his fiftieth wedding anniversary with his wife, he wanted to get her something really nice. To show her how much he loved her. So, he asked his eldest son to grab the prettiest piece of jewelry he could from the mountain treasure. When he gave it to her, he told his wife they’d earned it mining, but in reality, it was from the deposit they’d found. The one he’d never uttered a word about before. It’s as if he knew what was about to happen.” I grind my teeth together. “Once she started wearing the ring around town, the other miners got jealous. They thought he’d struck it rich up there. Clary was like it is today. No one was making much money, so he was always very careful. He let it slip one time to get his wife something nice. Just one time.”

The end of this story never ceased to make me madder than hell and more determined than ever to find the treasure. It’s like I’ve been wanting to stick it to the people of Clary my whole life. Stick it to people like Stone Jacobs.

“Next time the son went into their cave, he was followed. A guy from town laid in wait, searched the caves while Wilder was mining. He found the treasure alright. He tried to take it out, right in front of my ancestor’s eyes. They got in a fight, and my great great whatever granddad was killed. The loudmouth thief left the body and the treasure there, but when he got back to Clary, he started spilling the beans. It got back to the patriarch of the Wilders that his son was dead. He was so fuming mad, he went into the center of town where a bunch of townspeople were mounting horses to get to the treasure, and he shot that thieving son of a bitch dead for what he’d done.” I gulp. “Unfortunately, he had a heart attack right there in the center of town. It destroyed my family.”

I clear my throat to stifle some of the emotion threatening to burst out. It’s a terrible story any way you look at it, but when you think that it’s your own history. The same genes that ran through them run through me, I can’t help but feel it more. “When word got back to the family that not only the dad was dead but his brother, too, the youngest son told his mom what they’d found. They vowed never to talk about it again. Most of the clues out there come from that thieving asshole’s mouth when he told the townspeople where it was located. That’s why it’s all jumbled up and convoluted.”

Creases cut into Wyatt’s forehead. “Then how come your family hasn’t found it yet?”

“The younger son never went back. He left family clues as to where it was, including telling the story I just did. Some say his family dying made him a little nuts, so his clues were more like riddles. They’ve been handed down for generations. But the thing is, the markers they said were there either haven’t been found yet or have been eroded by history. Every generation since has tried to find the treasure. My dad said it’s the Wilder’s loudest call and our greatest downfall.” He wasn’t kidding.

Lucas shakes his head, staring down at the packed, red-tinted earth beneath our feet. I look up, shielding my eyes from the sun as I survey where we are. I’d gotten lost in the story and hadn’t been paying attention for a while. I spot the tree in the distance and head that way. I often asked Dad if we should move the safe, but as you might expect, he didn’t trust a whole lot of people. Even a bank. My family has deep-seated trust issues that go back to that guy trying to steal what was ours. We’ve been distrusting ever since. I always imagined it got worse with every generation, which was why my father is the way he is. A paranoid recluse.

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