GBJ Fiction

The Lost Confederate Gold by Mark Roy Henowitz

25th Annual Fiction t was curtains for the old courthouse. Eighteen- Writing Competition wheelers circled the crumbling edifice. Men The Editorial Board of the Georgia Bar I in coveralls wheeled, pushed, pulled, carried, Journal is proud to present “The Lost hauled, dragged, lugged and shoved a century of court- Confederate Gold,” by Mark Roy Henowitz of Buford, as the winner of the Journal’s house detritus out of the timeworn structure. 25th annual Fiction Writing Competition. The building was simply worn out. It was used up. The purposes of the competition are The sheriff had jumped ship years ago, favoring a store- to enhance interest in the Journal, to front around the corner. State Court had slipped away encourage excellence in writing by members to a brick building across the street. The tax assessor was housed up the hill in the old high school. The ornate, of the Bar and to provide an innovative classic and classy turn-of-the-century courtroom, which vehicle for the illustration of the life and comprised the entire second floor, had been sliced into work of lawyers. As in years past, this year’s three considerably less stately chambers. One Superior entries reflected a wide range of topics Court judge had relocated his bench to the old post and literary styles. In accordance with the office down the street. Another dispensed justice from a former movie theatre. The urban sprawl oozing our competition’s rules, the Editorial Board way had created a situation that the old relic on the selected the winning story through a process courthouse square had no capacity to address. of reading each story without knowledge of My own bailiwick was the real property record the author’s identity and then ranking each room. This division of the clerk’s office had long ago entry. The story with the highest cumulative outgrown its original home. The deed room had been shunted into the courthouse basement, an ill-lit, low- ranking was selected as the winner. The ceilinged affair, with exposed pipes overhead. It was Editorial Board congratulates Henowitz stifling in summer, flooded in spring and autumn, and and all of the other entrants for their freezing in winter. Stella, the deputy clerk, had termi- participation and excellent writing. nated a mouse down there, in close combat, by whack- ing it with a Swingline stapler.

June 2016 33 I stood on the courthouse lawn, The real property record room “No. It’s the Justice and leaning against a granite monu- was upside down. The ancient leath- Administration Building. They’re ment, watching the workers like er bound deed books and indexes calling it the Jay Bee for short.” so many swarming ants empty the along with the more recent, more “Who is? obsolete hall of justice. Although I sterile computer print-out versions “Everybody. Yes, either the Jay came to the courthouse every work- were stacked like so much cord- Bee or the Law Mall, because it has day, I had never paid the slightest wood. Movers jostled each other a four-story foyer with an escala- bit of attention to the unusual mon- and the books as they wrestled their tor. It reminds people of a mall.” ument that I now reclined against. loads out the narrow doorway and “The Law Mall?” Daily, I breezed right by at a hearty up the even narrower stairs. She nodded. clip, on a mission; I had real prop- “You can’t work here today, “I’ll see it on Monday,” I said. erty titles to search. My diurnal Noble,” said Stella, the deputy “That will be soon enough. You’ll destination was that moldy base- clerk, peering at me disapproving- be open for business?” ment with its books and indexes. ly over reading glasses. “Knowing “Yes.” That day was different. I was in no you, though, it figures that you “Good luck with the move.” hurry. That day the books were not would show up and try.” I left the basement, climbed the waiting for me. No work could be “I’m not here to work, Stella. I stairs and walked across the hall done on that moving day. Nothing just wanted to be in the old court- to the Probate Court. The place could be searched or researched. house on the last day.” was even more torn apart than As the movers swarmed by me, I She shook her head at me, then the clerk’s haunt. Not only were took a step back from the singular slipped off the reading glasses and the books in huge stacks and the monument and studied it for the let them hang on a silver chain furniture and machines in a heap, first time. around her neck. “Why do you come but the very counters and book- At ground level was a square here every day, anyway, Noble? No cases had been ripped clean off granite block, maybe four feet high. one else does anymore. It’s all on the walls to which they had been Positioned atop that foundation was the Internet. You can search a title attached. It looked as if a tor- a stone structure that was too squat at home in your pajamas.” nado had torn through the place, to be an obelisk, yet too thin to be a “I don’t wear pajamas.” upending the world. pyramid. It was some kind of gran- “Spare me the details,” she “Anybody here?” I hollered. No ite hybrid obelisk-pyramid with laughed. answer. “Marie, are you hidden trapezoidal sides. This was capped “You know how this business under a pile of minute books?” by a small true pyramid. The struc- is,” I said. “During boom times No answer. ture rose to twice my height. the record room is filled with the I gingerly picked my way through There was an inscription on the kind of people who come from out the rubble. Skirting around an base. It read: To the memory of of nowhere. In bust times they go unsteady stack of chairs, I came to a the brave members of the compa- right back there.” counter that was about half peeled ny of mounted volunteers, Ensign “Not anymore, Noble.” She off the wall. Jammed between the Jasper Adams, Sergeant Asa Wade, stacked two more books onto an shorn counter and the wall, I spied Privates Adam Cain, James Vance, already unsteady, five-foot-high an old leather volume. It looked as if RW Eaves, David Tanner, Isaac pile. “You’re the last of the dino- it had been wedged there since the and EG Lafon, brothers, who, saurs, searching a title at the court- counter had been cobbled together; under the command of Captain house. Don’t you know it can be decades, maybe longer. Avoiding Thomas O’Shay, were slain in bat- done from Bangalore?” the protruding rusty nails, I gin- tle with a party of Creek Indians “What do you know about gerly slipped the volume out of its at Shepherd’s in Stewart County, Bangalore? Since when are you place of concealment. Georgia, on June 9, 1836. such an authority on all things It was a thin black book with a Was I standing in a graveyard? Internet?” red binding. The cover was hang- Were the eight men buried there “I’m on Facebook, Noble. You ing on by two hairs. Embossed on on that spot? Then again, no, the should friend me. Then you could the front in gold were the words monument was not a gravestone. enjoy the pictures of my grandba- Pension Record. It was a memorial. Surely, they bies that I post every day.” I rested it on the teetering counter were elsewhere. Most likely they “Sounds like I’m missing out.” and flipped it open. The pages were were interred where the skir- She frowned at me. “Have you yellow ledger leaves with rows and mish occurred, at Shepherd’s, in been to the new courthouse?” columns. The columns were labeled Stewart County. she said. Name, Company, Regiment, Time I shrugged and walked into the I shook my head. of Enlistment, When and Where courthouse. I took the stairs to “Actually, it’s not a courthouse.” Discharged and then a series of the basement. “No?” years from 1867 through 1917.

34 Georgia Bar Journal The rows were filled in with blue I unfolded it. It was some kind was made of armor plate. Presently ink. Page after page of entries. The of a hand drawn map. Chennault he was the distinguished occupant first column listed the pension- Crossroads was written in the cen- of the Senator Richard B. Russell ers alphabetically from Abner to ter. The map showed that at a dis- Endowed Chair in History at the Webb. Next, the companies and tance of 40, I assumed miles, from university. His lectures were well regiments were shown as Company the crossroads, following a fairly attended. His presentations were A 19th Ga or Company C Cobb’s straight line, curving only slightly, laser-like. His voice was rusty Legion or Company B 16th Ga or 9 was located a series of triangles. shrapnel. He knew more history Ga Artillery. Most entries showed Near to the triangles were two than any man this side of Toynbee. enlistments in 1861 or 1862. The irregular lines sketched in blue, He knew more Georgia history entry for discharge for nearly all possibly creeks or rivers, which than any man. Period. said simply Close War. Under each nearly intersected. That was the I was certain that I would find year was the handwritten sum of totality of the map. the Professor in his office and I did. the pension. Sixty dollars. For each “Anyone here?” I hollered. He sat behind a desk chaotic with man. For each year. Sixty dollars. No one answered. books and papers. He was dressed, Or if the numbers stopped, the I placed the rescued pension as always, in his Harris-tweed jack- word DIED was inscribed. record on top of a tottering stack et and a black bowtie. His hair was As I flipped through the book, of books. I silently slipped the map uncombed. He needed a shave. several loose pages tumbled out. into my pocket. I left the old court- “Noble,” he rasped, upon glanc- I snatched up the fallen leaves. house for the last time. ing up from his papers and seeing Typed at the top of the first sheet, v v v v v me enter his habitat. Then wast- I read, Registration of Old Soldiers I had no clue as to the map’s ing no words on salutations, he Reunion held on this twenty-third meaning, but I had access to some- demanded, “What have you got day of August 1917. On three pages one supremely capable of unlock- for me?” were the handwritten names of 33 ing the mystery. The man I had in “What makes you think I have souls from our county who had mind was Karl Oliver Smith. The anything?” survived to attend a reunion of Professor, as I called him, came “Oh, you’ve got something. You War Between the States veterans from a long, illustrious line. One always have something. Now, held during the First World War. of his forebears had been a South what is it?” I reinserted the reunion papers Carolina colonial governor. Before I unfolded the map and laid it into the Pension Record book. Still being kicked out of the Citadel, out on his cluttered desk. alone in the topsy-turvy Probate for reasons he never disclosed, the “They’re tearing apart the old Court, I continued to thumb Professor had earned the sobri- courthouse,” I explained. “This was through the venerable volume. quet K.O. (which were also his in a Civil War pension book. The Then another page literally leapt initials) after knocking out seven book was jammed between a shelf out of the timeworn book and into consecutive opponents in inter- and the wall. Probably been hidden my hand. It was a folded sheet. collegiate boxing competitions. He there for nearly a hundred years.” Partners in Change

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June 2016 35 He squinted at the document. “How much would that be in ing with those few officials still Then he produced a magnifying today’s money?” I asked. hanging around. Then, in the morn- glass and subjected the paper to “Maybe $10 million. The value of ing, barely noticed, he slipped out a Sherlock-like examination. Next, the Richmond banks’ assets, put on of town, ending the last semblance he brought his nose right down to the train for safe keeping, totaled of Confederate governance. the instrument and studied it for another $10 million in silver and “The wagon train continued some time. gold coin. The banks’ coins were towards Washington and arrived “The trail begins at Chennault packed into socks at the rate of at Chennault Crossroads in Crossroads,” he said. “What does $5,000 each. The socks were depos- Lincoln County with the treasure Chennault Crossroads mean to ited in wooden kegs. The kegs were just after sundown.” you, Noble?” then sealed. “Chennault Crossroads! The map.” “Nothing,” I said. “Where is “And there was more,” he went “Calm down, Noble. Listen. The Chennault?” on, “including a chest of jewelry wagon train, at this point, after sev- “Where indeed.” His eyes lit up contributed by southern women eral minor robberies and a mutiny like candles. “And where does the for the purchase of an ironclad or two, consisted of five wagons road from Chennault lead? The warship. That coffer was crammed loaded with the loot. About a map is clear. It goes a certain dis- full of not only gold and silver, but dozen men remained. They made tance and ends close by the place diamonds and other gemstones. camp near the home of Dionysius where two rivers join near a series There were other boxes loaded Chennault, a Methodist minister of triangles. Do you know where with the contents of the banks’ and plantation owner. Horses were the rivers meet? Do you know safety deposit boxes. There was unhitched. A meal was prepared. where the triangles are?” a chest containing the gold and The men lay down for the night. He didn’t wait for my negative silver floor sweepings from the “Near midnight, raiders on response to his rhetorical inquires. Dahlonega mint. horseback, maybe 20 men charged He snatched a book from a nearby “Barely ahead of the Yankee cav- the camp. With guns blazing, the shelf. Then he flipped the volume alry, who were in hot pursuit,” con- robbers simply and swiftly took open to a page containing a detailed tinued the Professor, “the treasure the treasure. The kegs of gold and map of Georgia. Retrieving a ruler train raced south out of Richmond. silver coins, the chests of gold and from the clutter on his desk, he It crossed the state line into North silver bars, and the other treasures made some measurements on the Carolina and arrived in Greensboro. were in an instant spirited away.” Georgia map. Here the tracks ended. The Yankees “Who were they?” I asked. “The Satisfied with his calculations, the had torn up the railroad.” raiders. Who were they?” Professor leaned back in his chair. “End of the line,” I said. “Don’t know,” said the Professor, “On Saturday, April 1, 1865,” “Yes, Noble, it was the end of grinning a sly grin. “Could have he said, “General Robert E. Lee the line. The treasure had to be been renegade members of Jeff reluctantly decided to abandon his offloaded from the train. It was put Davis’ guard. They knew the defense of Richmond. Do you know onto horse-drawn wagons. As the game was up. Why let the Yankees what it meant, Noble, to discontin- caravan laboriously moved south- take the loot? Might have been ue the defense of Richmond?” west, one by one, the Confederate an unofficial advance visit from “Yes,” I offered. “The capital of cabinet officers and the other high the Massachusetts Yankees who the Confederacy would fall.” officials slipped quietly away, try- stormed up to the Chennault place “Precisely. In a rather under- ing to melt into the countryside the next day. Perhaps they showed stated message, Lee telegraphed and to avoid capture by the Union up just a little bit early and took Confederate President Jeff Davis troops breathing down their necks. the stuff. Why not? Possibly it was ‘I advise that all preparations Bereft of nearly all of the govern- folks from the neighborhood. It be made for leaving Richmond ment dignitaries, the treasure train was no secret that the treasure was tonight.’ That very last train out of crossed into South Carolina. Next at the Chennault plantation. Richmond carried much more than stop was the Savannah River. On “In any event, the Yankee troops just Davis and the dolorous rem- the other side was Georgia.” arrived in the morning looking for nants of the fleeing Confederate “Where on the river?” the gold. Unfortunately for them, government. On board, Noble, was “They crossed on a pontoon they were a few hours late. the Confederate treasury. And in bridge just south of Lisbon. They “The newly minted conquerors addition to the treasury, the train went into camp about three miles roughly interrogated the Chennault carried the considerable assets of from the river, near the first house family as well as the other locals— six Richmond banks. The treasury on the Old Washington Road. both white and black. A few of the contained gold and silver coin and “Jefferson Davis arrived in freed slaves had retrieved a couple gold and silver bars worth more Washington, Georgia, ahead of the of coins that had fallen into the dirt than $500,000.” treasure train. He held a last meet- during the robbery. The Yankees,

36 Georgia Bar Journal using considerably more violence feet from beak to tail feather and “That is possible. It is also unlike- than was necessary, confiscated with another hundred feet of wing ly. It is more likely that the mound these few coins from the hands of span. A gigantic mound formed did not exist before 1865. Then, the browbeaten freedmen. As to into the shape of a flying hawk ris- Noble, the raiders, after leaving the interrogations, they revealed ing 10 or 15 feet out of the earth. Chennault Crossroads, brought the nothing. Nobody, it seemed, had Composed of thousands of milky Confederate treasure here. They any information.” quartz rocks, in the bright moon- buried it here. On top of the trea- “And the treasure?” light it had more the appearance of sure, they created a new mound “The treasure, the gold and sil- polished stainless steel. and covered it with quartz rocks to ver, the multi-million dollar horde “What is it?” I said. match the nearby effigy. That way of the Confederate treasury and “It’s a New World Stonehenge they could easily identify the loca- the Virginia banks, has never and easily of the same vintage,” tion when they returned. The ruse been found. the Professor said. “It was created also acted as camouflage. Others, “Now grab your hat, Noble.” by the Swift Creek people as a site they reasoned, thinking that the “I don’t have a hat,” I said. for their sacred rites and used by triangle mound was a part of the “We’re going to Rock Hawk.” them for that purpose for several larger Indian holy site, would not “What and where is Rock Hawk?” thousand years. disturb it. In fact the mound, as we “No time for that now. You “The distance on the treasure see, is untouched. The raiders never drive, Noble.” map matches the distance from the returned. They never reclaimed v v v v v Chennault place to here,” he said. the treasure. The quartz triangle We paused at a hardware store “What about the confluence of mound built in 1865 remains just to acquire a few supplies. We chose the rivers shown on the map?” as when it was created. The gold, a couple of round-point digging “The Oconee River and the Noble, is beneath our feet.” shovels. I added a pickax. Then I Apalachee River meet not far away.” I handed a shovel to the grabbed a flashlight and a handful “I don’t think so,” I said. “They Professor. He didn’t take it. of batteries. don’t converge.” “There are two kinds of peo- “We’ll take these, too,” the “The entire river system has been ple in this world, Noble,” he said. Professor said, showing the cashier dammed up and altered, Noble. “Those who can interpret maps, three sticks of beef jerky. Lake Oconee and Lake Sinclair and those who dig. You dig.” The Professor claimed he had no have been created. It wasn’t that And dig I did, hour after sweaty cash on him, so I paid. way in 1865. The rivers joined. And hour. I moved the quartz rocks I tossed the tools into the back of not far away.” forming the triangle mound and my pickup. The Professor pointed I conceded that point, but raised dug a six-foot-deep hole. I dug out the road to take. I motored another. “The map shows a series of another pit to the north. At some south at a pretty good clip, but triangles. I see a giant flying bird.” point, the Professor threw off his not so swiftly as to be tagged. “Step over here,” the Professor tweed jacket and joined in. We dug The Professor didn’t say much. He said walking southwesterly for another shaft to the south. Then we stared straight through the wind- about 50 paces. returned to the original crater and shield and gnawed his beef jerky. He stopped at a small mound made it deeper and wider. It was after dark when we composed of the same milky quartz Besides red Georgia clay, the crossed into Putnam County and rocks, only this one was in the only thing we unearthed was yel- then arrived at the entrance to Rock shape of four triangles. He grinned. low Georgia clay. Hawk Park. The gate was closed. “The Confederate treasure is here. “It’s not here,” I said, exhaust- “We’re too late,” I said. “It’s Right here. Under this mound,” he ed. I wiped my face for the thou- closed for the night.” declared with absolute certainty. sandth time on my shirt sleeve. Wordlessly, the Professor turned “I’m not tearing up a 2,000-year- “It’s just not here. Nothing is here. toward me. His eyes chewed me old sacred site,” I protested. Nothing.” up and spit me out. I took his He shook his head. “The tri- The Professor stood in a chest meaning. I backed up a dozen car angles, Noble, are not a part of the deep hole. His white tuft was mat- lengths. I floored it and smashed Indian mound. The white men who ted with sweat. through the bolted gate. discovered Rock Hawk in 1820 “We’d better hit the road, “Park over there,” he said. make no mention of the triangle Noble,” he said. “The sun is about I pulled into the empty parking mound. That’s because the trian- to come up. The rangers will be lot. Shovels and pickax over my gles were not here in 1820. The first here soon. It’s surely a crime to shoulder, I followed the Professor. time the quartz triangle mound is bust through a locked park gate.” After hiking a short distance, we mentioned is after 1865.” “Surely,” I said. arrived at the effigy. It was a mas- “Maybe the smaller mound was “Definitely against the law to sive sculpture. Easily a hundred simply overlooked at first.” excavate state land.”

June 2016 37 for the plastic basket to spontane- ously leap from the rollers onto the conveyor belt. Obeying the laws of physics, the basket refused to make the jump. “Put the basket on the conveyor belt,” the deputy urged. The man stared dumbfounded at the deputy. The deputy reached around and tossed the basket onto the belt, which sent it through the x-ray machine. The man pro- ceeded through the arch of the metal detector. The next person in line was a young lady with more piercings than a pin cushion. The metal detector was quite displeased with her. It beeped, chirped and honked loudly. A deputy then checked her out by running a wand over and around her. The wand made a series of wild noises, but they let her in anyway. The next lady spoke no English. She refused to surrender a gigantic shoulder bag to x-ray examination. Her daughter, after several intense paragraphs of explanation, expli- cation and pleading in some east- “I would think so.” The old courthouse had no ern European tongue, persuaded “Probably a federal rap under security. No one inspected or scru- the woman to place the mammoth the Antiquities Act to destroy an tinized an entrant. Now, in the handbag on the conveyor. ancient Indian effigy mound.” new environs, security awaited. In I was next. “You said the triangles weren’t front of me was a metal-detecting “Everything out of your pock- part of the effigy.” arch. Adjacent to that device was ets,” said the deputy with the “I have a feeling you don’t a conveyor belt going in one end unfriendly voice. want to explain that theory to the and out the other of some kind of I put my wallet, my cell phone, a authorities.” x-ray machine. comb, a pen, my truck keys, a quar- “True, besides, I’ve got nobody Four people were ahead of me. I ter and two dimes into a plastic bas- to post my bail,” I said. stood restlessly in the line. ket. I put the basket on the conveyor. Then, without further discourse, “Everything out of your pock- I slapped a file folder containing my we grabbed our shovels and vacat- ets,” a deputy sheriff intoned in an work on the conveyor belt as well. ed the scene. unfriendly voice. It all disappeared through flaps into v v v v v The first person in line stood the heart of the x-ray. Monday morning. I dragged there motionless. He was a bald I walked through the metal myself to the new courthouse, or man with a reddish mustache. The detecting frame. It beeped. more accurately the Justice and sleeves on his jacket were too long. “It’s your belt,” a different dep- Administration Building. The Jay He was 35, but looked 45. uty, in an even less friendly into- Bee. The Law Mall. “Everything out of your pock- nation, said. I pulled my pickup into the ets,” the deputy repeated. I took off the belt and sent it into expansive parking lot, which was The bald man emptied the con- the x-ray. I walked through the easily the size of 10 football fields. tents of his pockets into a plastic detecting frame. It beeped. I hiked across the blacktop to basket that he placed on a platform “Take off your watch,” the sec- the four-story glass and concrete made of steel rollers leading to the ond deputy demanded. edifice. After traversing several conveyor belt. He then assumed a I set my watch on the conveyor. layers of doors I arrived in the position blocking anyone behind I gingerly went through the frame. cavernous lobby. from proceeding, while he waited No beep. Like an ancient traveler

38 Georgia Bar Journal solving the sphinx’s riddle, I had Rock Hawk as well as the location ing an 80-year-old grandmother met the challenge. I could enter of the convergence of the rivers with a walker concerning a nail the building. was all consistent with the depic- clipper that x-ray had revealed On its journey through the x-ray, tion on the treasure map. I fiddled was concealed in her purse. I exit- the basket containing my posses- with the map. I turned it 90 degrees ed the building. sions had capsized. I retrieved clockwise. Then another 90. Then I called the Professor. I told him most of the scattered items. I never another quarter turn. Then back to when and where to meet me. saw the 45 cents again. its original orientation. v v v v v Following overhead informa- “Have you got a map of It was midnight. The same time tional signs, I made my way to the Georgia?” I hollered to Stella. and exactly 150 years to the day real estate record room. The most “No,” she said. “There might be since the raiders had spirited the glaring and astounding feature of one in the law library.” Confederate treasure away from this modern, state-of-the-art, high- “Where is that?” Chennault Crossroads. I was on tech research facility was that it “On the second floor.” the old courthouse square next to contained not a single book. Not I retraced my steps back to the the monument honoring the eight one. Instead of housing indexes and four-story high foyer. I took a militiamen who had perished in deed books, the room consisted of smooth escalator ride to the second the fight with the Creek Indians at 20 cubicles, each with a computer floor. The law library was to the left. Shepherd’s. It was two days off a screen, a mouse and a keyboard. The law library was neither state- full moon. There was haze in the “You said you would be up and of-the-art nor high-tech. It was air and mist near the ground. running this morning,” I said in my chock full of books. There were 294 I was wearing an orange vest and best accusatory tone to Stella. issues of the Georgia Reports bound a white hard hat. The hard hat had “Hello to you, too, Noble. Nice in tan with red trim. There were a decal on the front reading Walton to see you. We are up and run- 328 editions of the green trimmed EMC. Leaning against the monu- ning. Running at full speed. Just Georgia Appeals Reports. There ment I had placed a flat-end shovel as promised.” were two complete sets of the black and the two round-point shovels. “There are no indexes. There are bound Georgia code, thousands of The Professor parked his car at no deed books.” volumes of the Federal Reports and the curb and came strolling up. Stella eyed me condescending- hundreds of law review books. “Are you auditioning for the ly over her reading glasses. “I’ve The librarian was a brunette in Village People?” he said, apprais- been telling you for years now the second half of her thirties with ing my hard hat and vest. Noble, that you don’t need any of long straight hair and ice blue eyes. I said nothing. that old stuff. All the information She sat behind an oak veneer desk. “What’s with the getup?” has been entered into the database. “Do you have a Georgia map?” “In case we are asked why the All of the deeds, back to 1871, have I asked. courthouse lawn is being dug up been scanned.” She looked me over and decided in the middle of the night, we say “But, where are the actual books that neither I nor my query mer- there’s an electrical problem.” located?” ited a verbal answer. She pointed “Won’t the over-curious inquisi- “Off-site. In storage. If you ever with a red painted fingernail to an tor wonder why we have no find a problem with the data or the alcove jammed with varied and utility truck?” image, you can order the book. I assorted volumes. “We’ll tell them that the boss can have it here in two days. This I thanked her. I pulled down went for coffee.” is the new reality, Noble. You’re a Georgia atlas and sat at a table. I jammed a hard hat onto welcome to use one of our work I flipped to a page showing the the Professor’s head. He looked stations. Or if you prefer, you can physical features of the central part ridiculous. work from your office or your of the state. I pulled the folded “You should lose the tweed jack- home. It’s all the same.” treasure map from my pocket and et,” I suggested. “I don’t like it,” I protested. spread it out. Nothing looked right. He shed the jacket and tossed She looked at me with about as I reoriented the treasure map. I it aside. much compassion as a chain gang experimented with various align- “And the bowtie.” guard has for his charges. ments. I measured the distances in He slipped it off. He put on the I did as I was told. I sat at a station. the atlas. orange vest. I clicked with the mouse. I typed in I pulled out my cell phone to “So, Noble, what have you got?” names and numbers. My mind was call the Professor. Then I thought he said. elsewhere. I took the treasure map better about disturbing the fune- “This location is the same dis- out of my pocket. What was wrong real silence of the library. I left the tance from Chennault Crossroads with the Professor’s reasoning? room and glided down the escala- as Rock Hawk, but going northwest The distance from Chennault’s to tor. The deputies were interrogat- instead of southwest. Rotate the

June 2016 39 map one quarter turn clockwise. overrun by speculators, scoundrels, of the burning town and attacked This, Professor, is the place. This rascals and rogues. The Creeks, as them from the other. is the spot where the Confederate you would say, Noble, had perfect “The Creeks, using the same treasure is buried.” title to this land.” tactic as Joshua, went in front of “Where are the two rivers shown “No one would say that.” Shepherd’s and fired a few shots in on the map as converging?” the “What then?” an attempt to lure the militia out of Professor said, skeptically. “Marketable title.” the fortified camp. O’Shay obliged “The headwaters of both the “Have it your way. Marketable them. He left camp and pursued Alcovy River and the Yellow title. This didn’t stop the rapscal- the Indians. A short distance away, River are close at hand. They both lions from taking it. Homesteads, the main body of Creeks fell on the flow south from here and after farms, even whole towns were militia’s front and rear with dev- about 60 miles converge to form erected on Creek land. Finally a astating effect. As the fight raged, the Ocmulgee. But, the important few bands of Creeks had more reinforcements arrived, which point is that the map, if looked at than they could take. They raided a saved the militia from total destruc- correctly, shows the rivers diverg- couple of farms. They even torched tion. Still 22 militiamen were killed, ing not converging. Rivers, either the town of Roanoke and burned it including the eight named on the coming together or going apart, to the ground. monument here. End of story.” would look the same on the map.” “The Georgia militia was called “Not quite,” I said. “What hap- “Point taken, but where are the out. They bivouacked at Shepherd’s pened to the Creeks?” triangles?” he queried. Plantation in Stewart County. They “The fight at Shepherd’s was I shined my flashlight at the apex bunked in the slave quarters and their last stand. All of the Creek of the monument. “There you have other outbuildings. Captain O’Shay, land was taken. Every last man, it, Professor. One, two, three, four violating sensible military tactics, woman and child, grandmother triangles. Forming a pyramid. Four divided his force several times over. and infant was rounded up and triangles. Equilateral even.” He dispatched troops to a nearby slapped in chains and shackles. “What is this monument?” fort to obtain supplies. Other men Under armed guard they were bru- I illuminated the inscription. He he sent out to scout. Still others he tally marched to Oklahoma.” read silently about the militia led sent away on routine, mundane and We were silent for a long minute by Captain O’Shay, the skirmish unnecessary tasks. When the Creeks as the mist swirled around the base with the Creeks at Shepard’s and observed the militia sufficiently scat- of the monument. the deaths of the eight men in battle. tered and weakened by O’Shay’s ill- The spell was sharply broken, as “A monument to O’Shay is a thought-out actions, they made their if by the crack of a bullwhip. complete travesty,” the Professor move. They used the oldest trick in “I accept your hypothesis, Noble,” said spitting out the words. the book. The tactic was so ancient the Professor growled. “The trea- “You seem to be familiar with that it had been employed by Joshua sure is here. The monument marks the incident,” I said. at the Battle of Ai.” the spot. The gold is right beneath “It was O’Shay’s poor soldiering “Joshua who?” our feet.” He grabbed a shovel and that cost the militiamen their lives. “Didn’t you ever go to Sunday handed it to me. “Start digging.” He doesn’t deserve a monument.” school, Noble? After the Battle of “There are two kinds of people “The engraving,” I pointed out, Jericho, Joshua fought the Battle in this world, Professor,” I said, “does not say that the monument of Ai. He hid his main force to the “Those who can interpret maps honors O’Shay. It is dedicated to west of the walled city. Then, with and those who dig. You dig.” the memory of the dead men that a small band, he went before the Before I could hand the shovel he led.” town and made moves suggesting back to him, a black and white city The Professor ignored my clari- that he was about to attack. Seeing police car pulled to the curb. The fication. “Twenty years before the this, the men of the city went out to cop leaned out of the window and skirmish at Shepherd’s Plantation, fight. Joshua fled as if beaten. The motioned for us to approach. the Creek Nation was coerced into men of Ai pursued him and were “Let me handle this,” I said. Still giving up more than 20 million led away from their city. holding the shovel, I walked to the acres of land in Georgia. Ten years “At the prescribed moment, patrol car. after that, an additional 40 million Joshua’s main army rose from its “What’s going on?” the cop said. acres was forcibly taken from them. hiding place, entered the unde- He was a pale, fresh-faced kid The Creeks, to their eternal mis- fended city, took it and set it on maybe 25 with buzz cut hair and fortune, had encountered a land- fire. When the men of Ai saw the fuzz on his chin trying to be a goa- hungry slice of humanity whose smoke rising from their citadel, it tee. He was chewing gum. hunger could not be sated. was too late. Joshua turned around I pointed to the Walton EMC “What land the Creeks by trea- and attacked them from one side, decal on my hard hat. “Electrical ty retained was then invaded and while his main force stormed out problem,” I said.

40 Georgia Bar Journal “What kind of problem?” “All those movers here the last N D L few days. Closing down the court- Norwitch Document Laboratory house. They tripped over a ground Forgeries - Handwriting - Alterations - Typewriting wire. Grounding the transformer.” Ink Exams - Medical Record Examinations - “Xerox” Forgeries I pointed to the cylindrical trans- former perched on the power pole. F. Harley Norwitch - Government Examiner, Retired “Pulled the ground clear out. The Court Qualified Scientist - 35+ years. Expert testimony given in transformer could blow.” It sound- excess of five hundred times including Federal and Offshore ed so plausible, I almost believed it myself. 1 Offices in West Palm Beach and Augusta “Couldn’t wait until morning?” www.QuestionedDocuments.com “I just do what I’m told.” Telephone: (561) 333-7804 Facsimile: (561) 795-3692 “Where’s your truck?” “Boss went to get coffee. At the “Probably just O’Shay’s bloody the curb onto the street and flee- Waffle House. He’ll be back in coffin,” he said. ing the scene faster than thought a minute.” “I don’t think so.” or time. “My brother-in-law has the con- I dove face down into the hole. I v v v v v tract to restore the old courthouse,” clawed the dirt off the wood. I received a letter from the the cop said, apparently not want- “It’s round,” I said. Professor today. It was from the ing to conclude our chat. “Like a barrel top?” Forbidden City in Beijing. He “Yeah?” I didn’t answer. I grabbed the writes that he’s taking a week “Yeah. He’s a contractor. Says shovel from the Professor’s hands. off from his extended sabbatical he’s going to make it look the I smashed it into the wood. It in Tahiti. He’s become a regular way it did a hundred years ago. gave way easily. I reached inside. Gauguin. Taken up oil painting. Going to sandblast it. Strip off all I pulled out a sock. As I drew it Even has a Polynesian girlfriend. the stucco and whitewash. Take it out of the barrel, the rotted toe While he is away, the Professor back down to the bricks. Pull out dissolved. Gold coins spilled from is having a house built on Lake all of the drop ceilings. Tear out my hands. Burton. The place is nearly com- the carpet. Refinish the hardwood I placed my upended hard hat plete. It’s 7,000 square feet and has floors. He’s even going to fix the on the ground. I reached back into eight bathrooms. There is also a clock tower. It’s said three o’clock the keg and pulled out a double matching two-story boathouse. for years.” handful of gold coins. I dumped As for me, I’ve been trying to not “At least it’s right twice a day.” the loot into the hat. Mesmerized, call attention to myself. To keep a “How do you figure?” I scooped up handful after hand- low profile. To fly under the radar. “It’s not important. I should get ful. I continued until the hat To keep my head down. to work. The transformer and all.” disappeared under a mountain Maybe next year I’ll join the I took two tentative steps. He of gold. Professor on a Post-Impressionist didn’t stop me, so I kept walking. “Snap out of it, Noble,” the South Sea trip. Possibly, I’ll buy The cop drove away. Professor growled. that lot next to his on the lake. I I grabbed the flat-end shovel and I swung around. He had uncov- hear it’s for sale. sliced a line across the grass. Then I ered another keg, two chests, a Today, I’ve got a land title to peeled back and rolled up the turf. trunk and a couple of strong boxes. search, so I’ll be heading over to I handed a round-end shovel to “Pull your truck up here,” he the new courthouse. the Professor and took hold of the said, motioning to a spot. “Let’s Tomorrow? We’ll see. other one myself. load this stuff up and get out of “I thought you said that you here. Now.” Mark Roy Henowitz interpret maps and I dig,” he said. I flew to my truck, bumped it graduated from the “No time for that now. Let’s find up over the curb, backed up to the University of Florida the gold and get out of here. That hole and flipped down the tailgate. with Phi Beta Kappa cop will be back. He’s lonely.” We loaded up the barrels, the honors. He received his We dug furiously, hurling and trunk, the chests, the strong boxes law degree from tossing dirt all around. Then I heard and the hard hat full of gold. Columbia Southern. With more than it. A thud. The Professor’s shovel “That’s all of it,” the Professor had hit something other than dirt. said. “Or at least enough of it. 30 years of experience, he specializes “I’ve hit something. Wood, I Let’s book.” in the area of real property title law. think,” he said. I needed no urging. I floored it, He may be reached at mhenowitz@ “The treasure,” I said. tearing up the grass, skidding over comcast.net.

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