Page 3 of Small Town Hunter

Since I’m a millionaire now, I’m hoping for a more positive outlook on life.

“Look on the bright side, Dee,” Sebastian says.

“What?”

“We’re in Oklahoma.”

We both burst out laughing.

We eatour hamburgers in the car. “We’ll sell a little at a time,” Sebastian explains. “Once we get to California, we’ll get Skyla her paperwork, cash in, and put everything in her name.”

“And what about Roman?” I ask. “That man said those coins were rare as a motherf — as hell.” I’m trying not to curse in front of Skyla, even if she’s too small to understand a thing. “Don’t you think, Sebastian, that if six hundred magical confederate coins hits the streets, it’s going to lead Roman straight to us?”

“Not everything in the box coins,” Sebastian reveals.

“Oh, really?”

I know where he keeps the money, but he hasn’t let me open the bag. He only handles the money with gloves, and rarely.

“We’ll sell some other items, and once we get a feel for it I’ll offload the coins to some private collectors. Or just melt ‘em. We won’t get the full cost, but gold is still gold,” he assures me.

“And what about us? Our identities? Taxes? Roman knows how to follow a paper trail.”

“We’ll put everything in Skyla’s name.”

“Listen to yourself,” I retort. “You’re making all these decisions for her before she can even talk! What if she doesn’t want to be a shield for her criminal parents?”

“Criminal?” Sebastian says harshly. “I’m setting her up for life. This is more than I could have given her if I was dead or in fuckin’ prison with Roman and the rest of ‘em.”

“Don’t cuss in front of Skyla!”

“Shit — I mean — damn it, Dee. You know we had no choice but to leave. Would you rather we left with nothing or something? I promise I won’t let anything happen to Skyla. I’ve thought it all out.”

“Maybe you could share some of your plans with me.”

“No. If we get swept up anyway, I want you to say that I forced you to come. That I held you up, threatened you — anything. Your name will be clear. If we both go to jail, Skyla gets taken away.” His voice is a clenched fist. “That won’t happen.”

“That gold wasn’t yours to take. You made me a thief, Sebastian, and I don’t like that.”

“You know how the McCalls got it in the first place?”

“Probably doing something evil,” I say. “If I had to take a guess.”

“Way back, we had an ancestor named Sinclair. He was a young captain in the war, fighting for the confederacy.”

“Naturally,” I say.

“Sinclair deserted and doubled back through the south as a roving bandit, robbing homesteads, ravishing widows who were left on their own when their husbands went to fight. Real piece of work. But he really strung a big un’ when he captured a stagecoach some army bigwig was using to smuggle gold out of Atlanta.”

My eyes widen. “All that?”

“Yes, Dee. Accompanying the gold were the general’s wife, daughter, and their slave maid.” Sebastian grimaces. “I’ll spare you the details. After Sinclair was done, they all lay dead, and he killed his associates for good measure. The bastard then went home to Florin, where he spent the rest of his days in high cotton. Nobody ever learned what evil he’d done, and he never so much as touched the treasure. Bastard was already a McCall — already rich. Didn’t need to.”

“That’s terrible!”

Sebastian nods. “He confessed it all on his deathbed to his only heir, who chose to leave the treasure intact. All this recorded in a journal that Duke McCall showed to Roman some years ago when he found it. There was always rumors circling in Florin about gold. This was the real thing.”

“And Roman told you all this?”

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