The Treasure Wagon
written by:
Prybar

I really do enjoy the study of our history. I figure somebody should. And that is why I teach the American history class, to the often stubbornly resistant high school junior students. The knowledge of what has gone before, the triumphs and tragedies that our species has already experienced in its development, can serve to guide these young people along the uncertain path toward their futures. But only if they have learned these lessons. Hopefully, with this knowledge they can avoid committing many of the same mistakes. As Santayana once wrote: "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it". I figure it's my job to see to it that he is not proven correct.

So for the past 7 years since I graduated with my teaching credential, I've turned loose my passion for the study of history upon the heads of sleepy disinterested teenagers, with only the threat of not being able to graduate without passing my class prodding them into even showing up. Because I find history fun, I try to make it fun for my students. Sometimes, I succeed.

Ghost towns are one of my passions. I've traveled around the American west seeking them out. These old mining towns mostly seem to be located in the various deserts. Some ghost towns are well preserved, such as Calico in the Mojave Desert. Others are essentially gone save for a few bricks and some rusted metal. One of my favorites, Bodie, sits in the middle of nowhere, eight thousand feet up in the arid hills of the California/Nevada border. It's only a few dozen buildings and an impressive collection of artifacts. The paper record is large, and the minds of survivors can still be mined for information.

Bodie once had almost nine thousand citizens. Millions in gold was wrenched from the rocks tenacious grip as adits and shafts honeycombed the mountain. A one mile stretch of a main street once hosted 63 saloons and the whorehouse north of town did a land rush business. During one of several epidemics that swept through the town over the years, the lady who ran the whorehouse, a professional herself, nursed back to health many un-married men who fell victim. She saved countless lives.

When this lady finally died, the kindly folks of Bodie, no doubt in gratitude for her service during the epidemic, made a place for her burial just outside the fence of the graveyard.

I told such stories to my junior classes, trying to put a human face upon history, to suggest that people lived and died on this earth even before the Kardashians and the Housewives of Newark, or whatever. They stayed awake through these stories, mostly...so hopefully I connected with some of the more important stuff, too.

I visit Bodie often, wandering about the nearby hills, walking where the miners and the merchants, and the hookers once walked, looking and feeling, and trying to learn the place. From time to time I find something while walking. And on occasion I find something important.

Now, what I'm gonna tell you here....well it's important, and so far I've kept it secret, so I hope you'll honor my request and not spread this around. I've changed enough of the details so you won't be able to follow me through those desert hills to where it lies hidden. Maybe someday I'll go public with the details, but for now, it's my secret. But here's the story:

My camp was set next to a stream, amidst the pine trees at about 7600 feet elevation in an eastside Sierra Nevada canyon. I awoke with the birds, fired up the Coleman stove for coffee and breakfast in the brisk autumn air, and then relaxed for a moment to watch the mountains go by. The willows and aspen were at the height of their fall colors, and the early morning sun lit them to perfection. As far as I could tell, I had the entire place to myself for the whole weekend.

Just down canyon lay the impound known locally as Dynamo Pond. A mining company had built the dam across the creek to create this pond back in the 1890's, and then down slope a ways set up the water driven electric generator, the dynamo, which fed into wires which if followed, eventually ended up in Bodie, seventeen miles to the east. Electricity powered the stamp mill that crushed the ore in Bodie and thus helped free the gold, which later was melted into bars for transport.

My self-appointed task for this trip was to follow the long lost path of these wires, which took me the next two days. It led over steep hills and into deep dry canyons, through arid hard land and harsh brush and wicked scrub. I had the metal detector, and it did find for me remnants of the old project. The occasional dead tree still sported a glass insulator or two. When the angle of light was right, even the lay of the sparse grass showed where the old path lay. But mostly I just looked up and down the slopes for the easiest route, figuring the guys who ran those wires didn't want to work any harder than they had to. So I walked through the low passages between hills, and contoured slopes and generally stayed on course. And this course brought me to the old mine opening that had sat empty in those hills for all those years.

Set in the north facing slope off to my right, hidden by shadow and brush, I never would have spotted it if I hadn't needed to take a dump and chose that bush to squat behind. The hole was roughly five feet square, with a slight overhang that would have functioned to keep the rain and snow out. Always prepared, I had a small flashlight in my pack, and I shined it into the dark recess.

Nineteenth century miners living in the desert often built their living quarters within the entrance to their mine shaft, for it was cooler there in summer and warmer in the winter, than any wooden hovel they might construct outside. Just inside the entrance of this mine, this man had hollowed out a room tall enough to stand in, and large enough for a bed, a chair, and some shelves along one wall for storage. And this stuff was still there after more than a century.

The newspaper in Bodie was printed twice a week in those days, and I found a stack of about three months worth next to the bed. It wasn't a tall stack. I didn't think anyone would mind if I read them. Fascinating stuff, to an impassioned historian. Anyway, that's how I found out about the wagon.

The mining companies that prospered in Bodie shipped their gold bars to the mint in Carson City on massive freight wagons pulled by six heavy horses. The wagons headed down Bodie Creek, across the state line toward the mining town of Aurora, through the narrow winding canyon and then out onto the flat desert land. Loading up gold and silver bars in Aurora, the wagon headed north on a faint trail, and then angled northwest through the rough hills and forest to Wellington, and then on to Gardnerville and finally Carson City.

A shotgun toting guard sat next to the teamster, and usually more armed guards rode alongside on horses, to keep the fortunes safe. On the return trip, the wagons were overloaded with the goods that kept the mining towns alive.

I had begun reading the Bodie newspapers, which had stories about Mrs. Abbott's chickens, Gertrude's pies, the birth of children, the death of good men and too young women, and the long list of arrests and convictions. And in the third paper I read from this dusty stack, I learned of the freight wagon that was overdue in Wellington, and of the men sent on horseback to look for it. The thought was that it had broken down, but in that harsh desert such an inconvenience could easily turn deadly. The next paper talked of how the wagon had not been found. Further stories followed, speculation about theft and misfortune. By the bottom of the stack, the wagon had been forgotten. Not one hint of what had happened to the wagon and its men ever reached the town of Bodie.

My, but that tweaked my interest. I left everything where it lay in that mine's adit. It is bad form to simply walk off with such things. I took a GPS reading, planning to tell the park archeologist about this place, but I figured it was safe for now, since I doubt anyone had stumbled across it in one hundred years, so it wasn't going anywhere.

I knew a guy living in Independence who had been born in Bodie ninety years ago, and I drove down to speak with him. A nip of brandy got him talking. He said that his father had spoken of the treasure wagon, and of the fortune lost forever. None of the gold or silver bars had ever surfaced, and since each was stamped with the company mark, anyone would have recognized them, so he figured they were well and truly lost. The wagon and the gold and silver had vanished from this earth. And boy, wouldn't it be fun to look for them.

So this year, during my summer off from school, I returned to the area, to have at the mystery of the treasure wagon. I made a reservation for a cabin at the little resort near Bodie, and arrived there near five o'clock in the afternoon. I had just checked in at the office when the pretty lady walked through the door. She looked late thirties, trim and fit, with long straight blonde hair and a nice tan. Must have been driving with the sunroof open, for she had the start of a pretty good sunburn on the un-tanned skin of those two nice bulges poking out the top of the spaghetti strapped sheer camisole she sported. Push-up bra I figured.

She had that too long on the road look in her eyes. And she clearly didn't want to hear that she didn't have a reservation, and sorry, but all the cabins were taken for the entire next week. Only one tent cabin was available for that night.

I knew Carol, the wife and co-owner of the resort. Their rule was you didn't have a reservation unless she had e-mailed a confirmation back to you. And that had not happened with this lady, for whatever reason.

Our blonde lady was incensed, disappointed, distressed. The girls would be arriving later, and she had no place to stay, she said. And in this neck of the woods, if you don't stay at this resort, you don't stay in this area.

I knew Carol well, and I saw the look of helplessness in her eyes. So I stepped up.

"Carol. I'll give up my cabin if you have a tent cabin I can stay in. I don't really need a cabin just for my lonesome butt."

"Frank...really? I've got a tent, so if it's OK with Mrs. Gable here, it's fine with me."

Mrs. Gable clearly agreed, so I saved a few bucks each night, and I made a very pretty, very tired lady, very happy. I had all my camping equipment with me, so it was no problem taking the tent cabin. I figured to be staying out in the desert part of the time anyway, if I got caught up in my search, so why pay for a place I wasn't even using. I didn't expect to see Mrs. Gable again, so when she shook my hand and smiled, I just figured she was as grateful as she should have been.

I was hauling my stuff from the truck to the tent cabin when she appeared at my side.

"Hi there. Frank is it?"

"Yep"

"I'm Connie. I wanted to thank you again for what you did. It's a pretty nice cabin, and this isn't."

She was looking around at my tent cabin, at the one double bed, the old wooden table with two wobbly chairs, a mirror and a small dresser. No TV, refrigerator, heater, ceiling fan, stove, sink, and no bathroom with shower. Not even an electric clock.

"This thing doesn't even have a bathroom."

"That's why they have that bath house over there. Ya get to know your neighbors faster when you all use the same facility. It's like the neighborhood bar. And two bucks worth of quarters will get you a quick shower. Just like home."

I was smiling. She gave me the quizzical look.

"You like this?"

"I've done worse. I'll be going back up to Bridgeport tomorrow morning, and I'll pop into the hot spring for a long, quiet, free soak. That is pure pleasure."

"A hot spring? We have a hot spring around here?"

"A couple, actually. I'm going to the nicer one."

"How's about you let me buy you dinner, as a thank you, and then you can tell me all about this hot spring."

"Sure."

The restaurant wasn't big, but it was cozy and it smelled of Italian food, which does set a mood. I went to order the pizza, and Connie interrupted, insisting I get the rib eye steak instead, which was about the priciest thing on the menu. I knew she was driving the nice Lexus parked over there, and the rock on her finger suggested she wasn't hurting for money, but it still was quite a gesture, considering the price. She ordered the fettuccini. We started with a carafe of red wine.

Connie was a buyer for one of those uppity women's stores, and she didn't want to talk shop, which was fine with me. She expected her daughter and the best friend after ten, for they were driving down after work. Both girls were starting at UCLA in the fall. No mention of the husband, so I didn't ask.

Mostly, she wanted to hear about this hot spring. I told her how it was set up on the side of the hill overlooking the huge meadow and then the mountains beyond. The large deposit of travertine laid down by the hot spring over the millennia was interesting and beautiful, and folks had carved water channels and a couple of soaking holes out of the soft rock. She was intrigued. And she basically invited herself along. Since the only decent food market resided in that town, why shouldn't we both just head up there in the morning, stock up on provisions for the week, and take a nice soak?

This didn't mess up my plans too severely, so I agreed. Red wine will do that to me.

We met in the restaurant at eight for breakfast, and then piled into my truck for the five mile drive up to Bridgeport. The girls were sleeping in, and then heading for Yosemite for the day.

We shared a cart in the grocery store. She bought salad stuff, fruit, yogurt and cereal, with milk. I stocked up with eggs and bacon, cans of beans, chili, beef stew, and a box of mac and cheese. And a big Polish sausage for that night's dinner. And cold beer. The block of ice would hold the beer for about three days, and Connie's stuff until we got back to the cabin.

Then we headed out of town. As civilization thinned, I took the little road past the corp yard, up the hill to the several parked cars in a wide spot where you could see the first soaking pool. A small hand lettered sign suggested folks shouldn't bust the beer bottles around there, and to clean up their shit and stuff. A reasonable request. Connie thought that the place looked interesting.

Just as I parked the truck, two naked guys and their nearly naked girls walked past. The guys were very fit, and hung. The girls were healthy, too. One was stark naked, shaved down south, and buxom above. The other had perky little tits, could have used a couple of pounds, and wore the bottom half of a bikini. And that would be Connie's jaw dropping.

"Don't tell me...This is a clothing optional hot spring, right?"

"They mostly all are."

"And you were going to mention this...when?"

A couple in their sixties walked by, tanned, wrinkled and naked.

"I am sorry. I kinda figured you'd already know, since I've never been to one where folks needed to wear clothes. I'm sorry. We can leave if you'd prefer. I saw your bathing suit there under your clothes, and just figured you for the modest type. That's cool. Nobody here will care one way or another. Folks don't talk about it, and they try not to stare. That's considered bad form."

Connie was watching the older couple, walking side by side naked, and holding hands. She thought that was cute.

"I'll be fine, Frank. Honest. I am a grown up, and I've been in hot tubs with people, you know, naked. But it was dark and we were drunk. But I'll get used to it.

Are you going to be...you know...?"

"Comfortable? Yep. I'll do my thing on this side of the truck and walk down that path to the big pool. You can use the other side of the truck and follow when you are ready. You'll be fine."

I stripped down to comfortable, and with towel in hand I headed down the path. I could feel Connie's eyes on my bare back. At the bottom of the hill, the fifteen-foot diameter hot pool steamed. The couple we had seen earlier were neck deep in the water. Another couple, mid thirties, sat in the water in swim suits, looking a bit nervous. And two guys who clearly liked each other a lot sat side by side in the water. I made myself comfortable in the hot water.

I watched the guy in the bathing suit. His eyes told me when Connie came down the path. His lady noticed the same thing, and she did something to him under that water that must have hurt. He stopped leering at Connie. She wore a bright yellow and quite abbreviated bikini. Shortly after Connie joined me in the hot water that couple left. Apparently, the wife had had enough hot water. The two boys left shortly after, and Connie watched as they minced up the path. Finally, the senior couple left, holding hands as they climbed up the path.

That left the two of us alone. I was getting a bit overheated, and found a ledge to sit with my torso out of the water. Connie moved in next to me.

"This is very neat, Frank. Thanks for inviting me, or letting me invite myself."

"You are very welcome."

"I'm beginning to see why you like this, er...without clothing."

"Yeah, it is better..."

"Do you mind if I, you know, lose this suit?"

"Not at all. Make yourself comfortable."

"You could show a little enthusiasm."

"Oh sorry. Please, remove your suit. I'd love to watch."

"That's better....I think."

"I'll be looking over here at this nice tree."

"Thanks"

Some water sloshed. I heard the splat of wet clothing landing on the ground. I left the tree to its own business and turned back. Connie was neck deep in the water beside me, arms crossed in front of her, ah, assets. I asked how she was doing.

"Better?"

"It's a little weird, but yes...better."

I just happened to have brought my little hip flask with a splash of single barrel rye. I offered it to her. She left one arm over her chest whilst sipping my booze. She sipped more and then a bit more. It began to help. The arm moved out of the way.

Connie really had nice breasts. Even under the murky water they looked good. And when she popped out of the water to sit on the underwater ledge next to me, only that bit below the navel was left under water. Her breasts weren't massive, but full would describe them well. Nicely shaped, with light brown nipples and areolae and just a bit of no-longer-eighteen-years-old droop left them nicely portrayed on her chest. They jiggled merrily when she laughed. The rye whiskey had taken the edge off her nerves, and she was having fun again.

Connie sat right next to me, her leg brushing against mine under the water. Her arm bumped into my arm. She leaned into me as she laughed. Her breasts jiggled. She turned to look at my face, and after a short eternity, she moved in and kissed me on the cheek. Her nipple brushed against my arm. She stayed there with her nipple on my arm for a bit, and then one hand rested on the top of my thigh. This made my cock twitch. She whispered into my ear.

"Last night, after all that wine, I was going to seduce you. I was. Don't ask what got into me, but I just wanted to get you into bed with me. If the girls weren't going to show up a just the wrong moment, you would have gotten the best I have to offer last night"

"That so?"

"Yep. And now I'm sitting in this hot water next to you, and you are naked, and I am naked, and all I want to do is tell you to stand up, cause I want to see your cock, and after that, I am not responsible for what happens next. Stand up, you man you."

I looked her in the eye, for a short while. And then I stood up and faced her. The hot water came only halfway up my thighs. My cock was about half-mast, and it was dripping hot water. Connie stared at him for a moment, and then reached out with one hand to grasp him and squeeze him, and then slide up and down along him. He grew. He does that, when so inspired.

Connie stroked my cock for a short eternity, and then with her other hand she began to slide fingertips to tickle my balls, and moments later, she leaned forward and her mouth gaped and my cock slid inside and she commenced sucking on him. I watched as my cock moved in and out of Connie's mouth, and looking past him I also watched her tits moving with her breathing and movement, and that pleased me. I could feel the pressure building and the burn and I felt the need to tell Connie that I just might cum into her mouth, when we heard the car drive up, and the doors slam, and the guys' voices as they started down the path.

We both thought that continuing to suck my cock in the hot spring under those circumstances would be inappropriate. So we quickly gathered our things, and then sprinted up the path, tits bouncing and erect cock swaying, and three naked teenage men gaping as we passed. We tossed on most of our clothing, kissed passionately in the truck for a short while, and then quickly exited the parking spot, heading down the road.

Once on the highway driving south, Connie slid over next to me and opened her blouse to let me more closely examine her tits with my hand, and she wiggled my cock out of my pants and played with him for the five miles back to our resort. She pulled her blouse closed, and I stuffed my cock into my pants as I pulled into the driveway. Winding through the cabins and tents, I found my tent cabin, and parked. We hurried inside. I zipped the door shut, and turned to face her.

She was pulling the blouse off, and when it fell to the floor she tugged her pants down. I was unbuttoning my shirt as she stood up before me, naked. She looked damn good, standing there arms at her sides, breasts heaving a mite with her breathing, neatly trimmed bush barely revealing the red, puffy, glisten pussy lips between her taunt thighs.

She reached for my belt, and then button and zipper. I soon joined her in the naked department. We tumbled into each other's arms, hugging and kissing and groping available body parts. Skin rubbed on hot skin. She had hold of my cock and was pulling on my butt cheeks. I had hold of one tit and her butt. We grunted and moaned and tried not to make too much noise. My cock was raging and her pussy was dripping wet, and we both gasped for air and hungered for satisfaction.

Connie fell backwards onto the bed, pulling me along and finally on top of her. I think we both figured we'd had enough foreplay by then, for when I landed upon her, she moaned with an intake of air, and I watched the skin on her shoulders turn red, and I kissed her neck, and she shuddered. My hand slipped easily between her pussy lips, and inside her. She shuddered again. I kissed a nipple or two, and laid my lips upon hers, and she thrust her tongue into my mouth to join mine.

Her hand caught up with my cock, and guided the tip between her thighs, up to the point of entry, and then inside. She seemed in a hurry.

"Gaarrumph, arrhh, arrhh, ahhh, YES!"

English was now her second language. I heard her comments and added mine.

"Ugghh!"

I drove into her with a frenzy I hadn't experienced in years. The bed creaked and the tent shook, and Connie took the short trip to nirvana as I pounded my engorged cock into her. Her legs flailed back and forth next to my ears. I watched her tits moving with our efforts, and her face contorted with pleasure, and her mouth opened to loose garbled noises that rose and fell with the rate of my movements inside her. Her eyes rolled back, and her face flushed, and she grunted and moaned, and then her hand went into her mouth, and she bit it so, and her back arched and she flailed under me for a moment before going totally stiff. Then total silence, and Connie went limp, and a monster hiss escaped her mouth, and she smiled.

I lifted my weight off her, and she rolled to one side, curled into a fetal position, and she moaned again. I moved to lie next to her, my shape matching hers, and I slowly slipped my cock back into her from behind. And then I moved him slowly, like a sleepy man absentmindedly stirring his coffee in the fog of early morning, resting for long moments, moving him in, and then out to leave only the very tip inside, and slowly letting him sink in again. I nibbled the back of her neck, and her ear, and I let my breath caress her ear, and my hand rested gently on her nipple, and I touched it ever so lightly.

Connie was one large exposed nerve ending. Everything I touched responded with pleasure. I squeezed a nipple and she twitched. My cock tickled and then engaged her pussy, her clit longed for any brush of finger. I slowly tortured her.

She drooled into my pillow. Her breaths came in spurts. My cock tripped the wire from time to time, as little orgasms spread through her body. Over and over I brought her to the top and then slowly let her down. Over and over. Over and over. Her muscles twitched. Her eyes didn't focus. Her lips quivered. I touched the other nipple and she came again. One touch. She came when I tickled the skin behind her knee. She came whenever my cock moved. She came when I touched her clit. She came and came and came again. Between, I let her rest, slowly ever so slowly moving my cock in her, to keep the kettle on simmer. And then a little thrust, a tight hug, a nipple brushed or a clit squeezed, and she came again.

Two hours passed. The sheets were soaked. People moved around outside. The birds sang. A fish jumped in the creek. Connie came one more time, and then I let my tired cock slip out of her. She slept like dead.

I sat in my rickety chair, a glass of single barrel in hand, naked. I watched her sleep, the soft whistle of air escaping her lips, the sly smile, her breasts moving back and forth, her naked pussy, bush wet and matted down, her glistening swollen pussy lips, the ring on her finger. Children played outside. Parents called them in for dinner. It's getting late. I touched her shoulder to wake her.

"Hey girl...It's getting late. We need to get you dressed and back to your cabin before your daughter comes back."

"What? What time is it?"

"Six"

"Shit!! I must have fallen asleep."

"Ah, yeah. You did."

"Geezus. Did we really do that? Did we spend the whole afternoon, you know...fucking?"

"Yep"

"If you ever, and I mean ever, want to do that again, would you please invite me?"

"I'll let you know."

"That was amazing!"

"Glad you enjoyed it. I did."

"You didn't even come, did you?"

"Not yet."

"I can fix that, you know."

"Here I sit broken hearted. Tried to cum and only started."

"You asshole. Come here."

I lay beside her on the bed, and she hovered over me, and then her lips settled around my cock, and she set to work. She'd apparently done this sort of business before. And I appreciated the efficiency. Not much later, I felt the pleasure and the need and the inevitability, and my cock spewed into her mouth, and she licked me clean. And I thanked her.

Then we dressed, and I helped her get her veges to the cabin. And she hugged me one more time, and I went back to my tent. I had Polish sausage to cook. I popped a cold beer. I sliced the sausage and fried it crisp. I like my sausage crisp. The mac and cheese blended with the crisp sausage and sautéed onion and smokey BBQ sauce. I ate it out of the pan. I popped another beer. I went to bed early, and slept very well.

Bird calls woke me at the stroke of dawn. I walked to the bathhouse for the usual reasons. On the way back, I passed Connie's cabin. The door opened and then slammed closed. A young woman walked to the creek, a cup of steaming coffee in her hand. She stood there watching the trout feeding just upstream from the rock dam. She heard me walk past, and turned to look. Holy shit!

"Mr. Cummings. What are you doing here?"

"OH!...Hi June. Fancy meeting you here."

About then, I remembered where I'd heard the name Gable before. June Gable. Junior class last year, in history, and then senior class this past year. She'd just graduated, and only because she had managed to pass my class. With a bit of extra help. And I'll bet her friend on the this trip, would be Tina. The two had been inseparable. This was getting way too complicated.

I searched my brain for an explanation. Then, figuring that June had no clue that I had spent hours fucking her mother the afternoon before, I just went with the obvious.

"Remember how much I like my ghost towns? Well, Bodie is right over there. I'm doing some research which may or may not turn into anything, but I'm having fun."

"You must be in hog heaven. Wait til Mom hears that you are here."

"Oh, maybe you shouldn't bother her. She's on vacation, right?"

"Don't be silly. Mom will be delighted to meet you. I told her you were the reason, the only reason I got to graduate on time. And now I'm going to UCLA. She'll be thrilled."

"Yeah, maybe."

So, soon enough, I was having breakfast with Connie, June, and Tina. Connie and I exchanged some interesting looks. The plan was hatched. June, Tina and I would tour Bodie that day, while Connie nursed the "flu" she'd caught the day earlier. Poor thing was just so tired and sore.

The two girls stood by my truck, with daypacks full of water bottles and sandwiches. I loaded my own fixings, binocs, GPS, and my pack, and we headed down the road. June sat in the front seat, and Tina crawled into the backseat. The turnoff to Bodie was only a mile down the highway. I fell into teacher mode, pointing out things to the girls, telling stories, setting the mood. Several winding miles led to the gate into the park that protected the ghost town of Bodie. I had the annual pass. The scatter of old wooden buildings littered the hillside ahead. Mining machinery, and old hoists and other equipment lay scattered about, with some autos to go with the horse drawn cargo wagons. The girls took pictures and asked questions.

I led them to the graveyard, and let them read the carved stones. The lives of so many, hopeful folk who arrived here seeking their fortunes, only to find early death from violence, disease, or childbirth. Sobering, even for 18 year old girls.

Three hours passed. We had seen the easy stuff, and the girls were nearing overload.

"OK, guys. Who wants to go back to the cabin, and who wants a little adventure?"

The vote was for adventure. Back in the truck, we headed down the rocky road, along Bodie Creek, into the canyon, over the bumps, on the same road the treasure wagon had taken. I didn't tell the girls about the treasure wagon. I just wanted to show them one more graveyard. After nearly an hour, we arrived at the site of the former mining town called Aurora.

Not much left here, but that tiny cemetery. One grave marker makes the trip worthwhile. A marble obelisk, with four names, one on each side. Four children from one family, ages 3 to 8. All died in the span of 11 days, of some disease. Two other children from the same family lay next to them. I let this sink in without saying much. The two girls stood and looked, in silence. Some lessons require no long description.

Back at the truck, I pulled out the map. I traced the route the wagons followed, from Aurora to Wellington to Carson City. I told them I wanted to follow part of that route, across the hills and desert to the junction with the highway that ran from Bridgeport to Wellington. We could return to the resort from that junction. The girls thought it would be fun.

I drove the dusty rough road, dodging the biggest rocks and ruts, up and down the sparsely forested hills, through the two canyons, past the rocky point above the small river called The Elbow, into the narrows that the map showed, which seemed the best place for a bushwhack. I was scouting, but I didn't tell the girls.

I found several places that I would return to, with the metal detector and my eyes and my instincts. It was a long, bumpy, dusty road. But we had done in two hours what had once taken days when the wagons were pulled by horses. When we finally hit the paved road and turned back south, there was a small cheer of relief from the girls. When they realized we were almost to Bridgeport, they asked me if I knew where the Buckeye hot spring lay. I did. They wanted to see it.

This hot spring is in the national forest on the other side of town from the one I showed June's mother. Another rough road led to it. Surrounded by tall pines, a wide shallow rocky creek runs through a shallow valley coming down from the mountain. A huge boulder sits on one side of the creek and people have built rock dams to deepen the water here, and the hot water flows in and mixes with the cold in the creek and you move a rock or two to change the temperature of the water, and you soak. We looked downhill from the road. A handful of young people splashed in the water. Which was appropriate, since this was a young people splashing in the water kind of hot spring.

I excused myself so the girls could change into their bikinis in the cab of the truck. Of course they had stashed them in the daypacks at the start of the day. Somebody had done their planning. The girls would be among their peers at this hot spring, no doubt because they set this up this way. Which was fine with me. I'd take a nap.

I watched the girls picking their way down the steep slope, between the tall pines and lit by the filtered sun. June was clearly her mother's daughter. Same long straight blonde hair, same lithe athletic carriage. Probably same tits, if I let my imagination run with it.

Tina was a bit shorter, with short black hair and an even more muscular physique. She could have been a gymnast. Smaller breasts and narrow hips, she was almost boy-like. Seeing the two together, I had to wonder just how good of friends they were. I had almost fallen asleep when the ruckus down in the hot spring shook me out of it. Looking down, I watched about a dozen young people milling around. It was growing much rowdier. A few bikini tops had come off, which was no surprise. I enjoyed the view, even from that distance. But apparently somebody wasn't happy about it, and a couple of guys were squaring off against each other. Bull elk strutting in front of the cows, in a sense. Up the hill opposite me, where the forest service campground overlooked the creek, a man began shouting down the hill.

Oops, he was a forest ranger. The kids in the water scrambled to find their tops, and then they scattered in all directions.

June and Tina ran up the slope toward me. Both had their tops on, sorta. June's was not tied on properly, and it came undone halfway up the hill. Took two hands to keep it up. And Tina's had shifted sideways, and although technically still on, it wasn't covering much. Running girls and half off bikini tops can make my day, most any time.

They piled into the cab of the truck, laughing and panting for breath in the thin mountain air. I thought I smelled beer on their breath. I fired up the diesel and headed back down the rough road. Laughter filled the cab. June tried, but she had trouble tying the straps of her top behind her neck. Tina reached over the seat to help out, and after twice dropping the front and leaving her tits spill out, they got it knotted.

And yeah, they were her mom's tits. A bit tighter and with pink nipples, but you could see the family legacy. Tina's breasts had made good their escape too, and it took her a moment to discover this and correct the oversight. Smaller breasts, the perky version with small areolae and taunt pink nipples set in un-tanned, unblemished perfect white skin.

"Mr. Cummings! Were you looking at our tits?"

"Uh, I'm watching the road. Wouldn't do to run off here, what with that drop-off over there."

"Liar...I saw you look. I'll bet you were looking when we were down in the creek too. Weren't you?"

"Sorry, but I took a nap. Missed the whole thing. You kids sure got that ranger riled up, though. Looked like somebody was going to start a fight."

"Yeah, one of the girls took off her top and her boyfriend didn't like that, so when another guy told him to shut up and let her show things off, well that tossed the shit into the fan. Too bad, cause it was getting fun."

"Yeah, I'll bet it was. Sorry about that. Guess we should head back toward your cabin."

"We don't really want to go back yet. It's so pretty here. Don't you know someplace nice where we can just hang out and look at the mountains?"

"There's a spot not far, if I can find it. Let's see."

I followed the road, looking for an unmarked junction. A tiny two track veered off through the trees to the left, up a steep hill that kept the tourists out, across an ugly open slope that had burned years earlier, and then back into the forest. Another half mile, and the road petered out on a small forested hilltop next to another creek that spilled over a small waterfall into a lovely pond, and with a view of the mountains over here, and the valley over there. Quite spectacular, actually. We were miles from nowhere, and not a trace of modern man intruded.

We piled out of the truck, and the girls simply stared at the view.

"This is fucking awesome. I could stay here forever."

"Well, we have some time, but I can't do forever. I don't have any more beer for you, but I do have this."

The hip flash of rye whiskey appeared. The girls grimaced a bit, but forced it down. It helped them relax. Soon they were in the pond below the waterfall, splashing and laughing. I stood by the truck and watched. I watched more closely when their tops came off, and those luscious young tits went on display.

"Come on in, Mr. Cummings. It's great."

"Yeah, but I didn't bring my suit."

"Well, just get naked and jump in. It's great!"

"Uh, teacher here. Can't do that."

"But we're graduated. We are just grownups like you now."

"Well, OK. But I think this means you gotta get naked too. Fair is fair."

"No problem, Mr. Cummings."

Bikini parts went flying, and soon enough the two girls were naked in the water, and I followed as planned. I wasn't born yesterday, and this clearly was part of the plan. I knew that. I entered the water, bathed in their four eyes all the way from the truck. Soon enough we were all waist deep in cold water, two luscious naked 18 year old women, and this late twenties codger. It was time for a group hug.

The usual splashing and tickling game commenced, but it soon progressed to groping body parts. I was grabbing tits, and asses. Lady hands passed over my cock, grabbing some meat and then letting go. Kisses and more hugs. I had Tina from behind, arms wrapped around her and hands coddling her small breasts. June had me from behind, first cupping my butt cheeks, and then pressing her breasts into my back, and her hands enveloping my cock.

We knew each other real well when I sat on the rock next to the waterfall, and I was taking in the view of the valley and mountains, and both ladies were trying to get my cock into their mouths at the same time. I've had worse days, believe me. Both girls were beautiful, young and supple, and their nakedness drove me insane as their tongues tried to finish the job. I was approaching the end, and I chose not to waste it. So I stood up, in the face of two disappointed faces. I vowed to make it up to them.

June went on the rock in my place, and I dove between her raised thighs, down to her treasure where I planted my tongue and lips upon her pink swollen, wet pussy. Tina was kissing June's nipples as I worked my tongue over her clit, and then up and down along her cleft. She squirmed and moaned and finally cried out her appreciation of our efforts. We let her cum a few times, and then Tina changed places with her, with high hopes for a similar journey. I had no problem trying to make her dreams come true.

Tina was an active victim, squirming and pressing her pussy into my face, crying and moaning and begging, she demanded a trip to the heavens, and we delivered. June was smashing her tits and I devoured her love entrance, and finally she came with a wail and a violent tremor that wracked her entire soul.

I stood up and fed my cock into her, and as June watched, I began stroking Tina into even more delight. I watched as her breasts wagged back and forth in time with my thrusts, her mouth sagged open as garbled noises fell out, and her eyes rolled back in her head. I teased her and pummeled her and basically orchestrated one after another climax for her, and had a fine time for myself in the process.

When Tina finally went limp, I walked over to where June stood, folding her forward so I could access her from behind. My cock found its way, and she welcomed him in, and we conspired to seek new heights for her to attain. I thrust in slowly, and then quickly, a fever built, and my sweat fell on her back as I drilled her into one after another climax. She eventually begged me to stop, and I stood there in the water next to the waterfall with the view of the mountains, and my hard cock looked for something to do, and the two young beauties lay there naked and satisfied, and I figured worse things could happen, so I finally just jerked off, sending tendrils of cum over the two of them, as they giggled in a demented sort of way.

I delivered the two girls back to their cabin as the sun was seeking rest for the night. They staggered into the cabin. I wondered what Connie might deduce from all this, but she didn't come out, and I headed for my tent cabin alone.

I popped a cold beer, and poured a stiff dose of rye, and then I cracked a couple of cans of chili, which went on the propane stove. I was beat. And I still had to process what I had seen on the drive, for I still wondered about the treasure wagon, and there were tantalizing clues. I had found a stretch where the old road was on the other side of the river. And I had a feeling that if anyone had been poking around, they had stayed on this side. So I laid plans for the morning, to explore around the old road bed, and see what turned up.

I had no visitors that night, which was a relief for me. I hit the sack early, and was up before dawn. Bacon and eggs and strong coffee greeted the sun. I loaded my daypack and the metal detector and fired up the truck. I headed out in first gear. Connie was waiting for me as I passed the cabin. She opened the door and climbed in.

"Where are we going?"

"I've got a theory about the old wagon road, and I'm going to check them out."

"I'm going with."

"Ok"

I drove up the highway, past Bridgeport and up the pavement north until it intersected the dirt road we had taken the day before. I drove down that road. Connie hadn't said a word the whole way. I found the spot I remembered from the day before, and found a spot to drive the truck across the shallow river. I parked the truck and pulled out the metal detector. Connie sat in the truck. It was an uncomfortable moment, if there ever was one.

I walked the detector around for about a half hour, and to my disappointment, found nothing. And then the thing beeped. Next to a rock, next to the road, I had hit on something. I dug into the soft sand, and just as Connie stood next to me, I found it. A lead mini ball, in 45 caliber. But first I felt I should entertain Connie.

"So, did you drag my daughter up here to seduce her?"

"Ah...nope."

"OK, I'm listening. Why did you take my daughter up here?"

"Well, maybe because of this."

I held up the old bullet, flattened from its impact on that rock way back in 1898.

"A bullet"

"An old bullet."

"And how did this bullet get you into my daughter's pants?"

"Uh, I took your daughter and her friend up here, and then to Bridgeport where she asked me to take them to the Buckeye hot spring, and while they cavorted in the hot spring with a bunch of other kids, I took a nap in the cab of my truck, and then when the ranger ran them out of the hot water, we drove out toward the highway. They asked me to drive to the creek and there they took off their bikinis, and invited me into the water with them. What happened after that was by mutual agreement. I don't feel like I seduced anyone yesterday. Your daughter is a big girl, and she acts like one. You didn't do anything wrong, and I don't feel like I did either. June is an adult who is doing what she sees fit."

"Oh, you got that right. I'm just not quite ready to acknowledge that quite yet."

"Welcome to parenthood."

"Yeah, I guess.....

So, what is so important about one bullet?"

I figured a brief explanation was in order, so I told Connie about the treasure wagon. When I finished, she stared at me for a long while.

"Are you serious? You think that wagon is still out here?"

"Well one bullet doesn't prove a thing, but suppose that wagon had been bushwhacked. Somebody would have been shooting."

I had found one bullet. I set out with the metal detector in the woods behind the rock, and after an hour I had three more bullets. I had some substance to support my lunacy. I climbed the hill next to the road, the hill that formed the narrows between it and the river, back when the road was on that side of the river.

From the top of the hill, I looked around, and the small flat to the north caught my eye. I headed that way. Connie saw me walking, and she joined up.

"What's up here?"

"Don't know. A hunch maybe."

Standing in the trees, on that flat in the middle of desert hills, I turned a slow circle, and then my eyes settled on the hillside to the east, and there was a bush just like the one that closed off the mine shaft that held the newspapers. I walked over, and behind the bush there lay a mine opening. A large one.

What was left of the wagon sat a few meters into the mine adit. The wooden wagon had deteriorated over the last century, and it had collapsed under the weight of silver and gold. Five hundred pounds of silver and gold. I had found it.

The wagon was a pile of rotted wood. Skeletons of horses littered the floor of the chamber. Several scattered bones, smaller and clearly not horse, lay there too. Human. One nearly intact skeleton lay there, with another 45 caliber bullet sitting right in the middle. This was a crime scene, albeit a very old one. This was going to get complicated.

Connie stared at the scene.

"What am I looking at?"

"Looks like all the horses and the wagon. Somebody killed the horses, and a few people. Maybe they were injured too, and died in here. Anyway, the wagon and contents have sat here, pretty much undisturbed for a hundred years."

"And those bars...that's gold and silver?"

"Mostly gold. See the stamp on top of the bars? That's the Standard Company mark. That's the big mining company. The silver bars came from Aurora. There should be about five hundred pounds."

"Pounds? I thought they did gold and silver by the ounce."

"Oh, they did, and do. Back in 1890 an ounce of gold was about $19. Don't know about silver, but at times it was worth more than gold. Last I looked, gold was about $1500 an ounce now....Yeah"

I could watch Connie's eyes, and she was doing the math. We were looking at a frickin' fortune.

"Geezus, Frank. You are a rich man."

"Maybe. But first we need to know if the Standard Company or some derivative still exists, for this was their gold. Then we need to know how the state of Nevada feels about recovered treasure. And how much the state of California will tax this, for they like to tax things. The descendants of some of these people laying here might have a say in this. And I'm sure the federal government will find something interesting here, too. This is winning the lottery money, pro-athlete money, movie star money. It's CEO money, or retired presidents giving speeches at rubber chicken dinner money. Somebody is going to be interested."

"Or...you could just load up the truck, don't tell anyone, melt the bars into new bars with no identifying marks, and convert a little at a time into cash, without raising a fuss."

"Or that."

Connie stood in front of me, hands working at the buttons on her blouse, clothing falling to the ground, beautiful naked woman standing before me, hands coursing across my chest, knee brushing against my crotch, and lips leaning into my lips. We made love just outside the opening to the mine, passion building and then released, sweat and moans and tremors, cries and hugs and the writhing ball of bodies and parts that led to a massive release and then the crumble of two who really like each other.

And then I set to carrying gold and silver bars across the short distance to the truck. It settled down on its springs as the weight in the bed grew. We didn't disturb the bodies in the mine. I didn't tell the park archeologist about any of this.