Hearing this, Nora felt a sudden tickle of alarm—despite, or perhaps because of, Burleson’s calm voice.

“That’s the best suggestion I’ve heard all week,” said Maggie, covering the simmering stew and sitting herself down in a chair by the fire.

Burleson produced a couple of bottles of wine from his stash, opened them, and filled everyone’s tin cups. He settled himself in his own chair and looked around. “First, I want you all to know my men at the ranch have been alerted, and it’s only a matter of time until they find Peel. We don’t want to involve the police unless we have to—Jack may have some strong religious beliefs, but at heart he’s no thief. I’d rather we found him ourselves and talked some sense into him than see him put in jail.”

“How do you know it’s him who stole the bones?” asked Wiggett. He looked a little put out, having spent a good part of the day looking for Peel without being told the real reason why.

“We found his boot and horse prints all around the site,” said Clive.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Maggie. “Still waters run deep, that’s what I always say. To think that poor girl, after all she’d been through in her short life, disturbed again…” She took a swig of wine.

Burleson gently interrupted. “And now there’s something else I think you deserve to know. Something I myself just learned this afternoon. Nora will explain.”

And he gave her another look, different this time. This one had something of a warning in it.

She felt Clive begin to stir beside her, preparing to object, but she put a hand on his arm. At this point, with the expedition in disarray, it all might as well come out. She took a deep sip of wine.

“There’s more to the story of the Donner Party than you’ve heard,” she began. “During their journey, rumors started to swirl that one pioneer named Wolfinger was carrying a chest of gold coins. At a certain point he was murdered by two fellow travelers, who stole the chest and told everyone Wolfinger had been killed by Indians. I guess that later, the Donner tragedy itself became so infamous people forgot about the possibility that the gold might still be around somewhere, hidden by the killers before they died of starvation. Historians certainly never focused on it. But four days ago, we found the skeletons of the two murderers up at the site. They had ten gold coins hidden in their boots—confirmation, it would seem, that the story is true. And if it is true, they may have hidden the bulk of the gold up there somewhere before they died.”

“How much?” Maggie asked.

“Ten thousand dollars.”

Abruptly, Maggie leapt to her feet. “I knew it! That’s just what I was telling Drew the other day. I said, ‘They’re looking for something else besides just a bunch of old bones.’ Didn’t I say it? And I was right!” She turned from Nora to Clive, her face shining with eagerness. “What’s it worth today?”

Clive glanced at Nora. She nodded.

“About twenty million dollars,” he said.

No one said anything as this sank in.

“Twenty million?” Maggie asked at last.

Clive nodded.

“And you haven’t found it yet?”

“No.”

“So there’s twenty million in gold buried up here somewhere?” Maggie couldn’t seem to absorb it.

“It’s a possibility.”

“Holy smoke!” She whistled. “Who gets it?”

“Every last coin belongs to the government or the Institute,” Clive said, articulating each word crisply. “None of us are getting any of it.”

“Taking even one coin,” Nora added, “amounts to felony theft from the government. It’s no different from bank robbery, and it’ll get you twenty years in San Quentin.”

“Come on!” cried Maggie. “That ain’t fair!”

Wiggett stirred. “Surely there’s got to be some reward.”

“That’s the way it is,” Nora told him. “No reward. It’s the law.”

“The hell with the law,” said Maggie. “Finders, keepers!”

“What are you suggesting?” Burleson asked her sharply. “Are you going out tomorrow to start searching for the gold? That’s probably why we weren’t told about this in the first place. Listen up: there’s no finder’s fee. There’s no reward. You are forbidden to search for it. This is an archaeological dig, not a damn treasure hunt!”

“Not fair!” said Maggie.

“I can’t deny that’s how it might sound. But that’s how it has to be. And if you don’t like it, I’ll accept your resignation. Right here and now.”

There was a silence. Maggie downed her wine with a gulp, smacked the tin cup down, wiped her mouth. “All right. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I just think it’s rotten not to let us at least help. I’ve always wanted to find a buried treasure.”

“I don’t like it any more than you do. But this isn’t the Wild West. Any gold the archaeological team finds is already spoken for. I want to know you both are clear on that.”

Wiggett sighed deeply, then nodded. After a moment, Maggie did the same. It was strange, Nora noticed in a detached kind of way, how news of the gold had led the camp members through a quick succession of emotions: shock, delight, dismay, resentment—ending in grudging acceptance of the legalities involved.

Burleson slapped his knees. “I guess that about covers it. I hope by daybreak we’ll have both Peel and the stolen artifacts back, so the archaeologists can restore their site to its proper condition. As for the gold, remember: I won’t tolerate anyone on my team going out looking for it. And now, Maggie, if you’d please finish up that beef stew, I’ll bet I’m not the only one who’s famished.”

29

May 13

NORA TOOK A seat at the worktable outside the HQ tent as the others gathered for their customary morning meeting. As she glanced around, she noticed a distinct air of expectation. She was still flustered about another call she had placed to Skip earlier on the sat phone. Skip told her Fugit was still furious about the theft. If that wasn’t bad enough, Mitty was depressed and spent most of the day at the window, waiting for her to come home.

“Until we get those artifacts back from Peel,” she said, shaking away her negative mood, “there’s little point restoring the sections he disturbed. And so today we’re going to make an organized search for the gold. If it really is here, the sooner we locate it—and get it out of temptation’s path—the better.”

Salazar and Adelsky both looked so eager that Nora added hastily, “That is, Clive and I are going to begin searching. Jason, Bruce, with the rear of the midden basically finished, you can open up those last four quads you’ve surveyed. With any luck, they’ll encompass the site of the original shelter and cooking fire.”

“You know,” said Adelsky, “four people will find treasure more quickly than two.”

“Maybe,” said Nora, “but the dig has to keep going, one way or another. The archaeological value of what you’ll be doing—uncovering the heart of the camp—is greater than a chest full of gold.”