Page 83 of Brim Over Boot
The waver in Colton’s voice makes me wonder if he’s talking about his brother…or possibly himself.
“At least he has you all,” I offer. “A family who supports him.”
“I… Yeah,” Colton replies, his voice quiet. “We’re here.”
Before I can climb down, Colton levers upwards, swinging his leg carefully over Clementine’s head and sliding to the ground in a single fluid move. I watch, shocked, as he jogs the couple steps to the clue box.
“This one’s a riddle,” he says, tossing a scroll up to me. I catch it and roll it open.
A beat of its own.
Life within stone.
What is it?
“That’s…concise,” Colton mumbles.
“A heart. Right? There’s a trail that leads to the hawk’s heart within the mountains.”
He nods. “And it’s the last clue. We find this, and we’re nearly done.”
“Well, let’s get moving then,” I say, my excitement returning now that we’re so near to the end.
Colton approaches the horse but stops at the last second.
My lips twitch as I understand his predicament. “What’s your plan for getting back up?”
“I’m working on it,” he says hotly. “Just…lean back.”
“Oh, hell no. You’re not swinging your leg over me.”
“Come on,” he practically whines.
“Nope,” I say, dropping to the ground. “You first.”
He huffs but sticks his foot in the stirrup. By the squeak he lets out, he’s not expecting me to grab his hips and help boost him up. I grin, following him onto Clementine’s back and settling behind the saddle.
Colton clears his throat. “Onward.”
“Let’s go.”
The last clue box is nestled at the end of a trail that weaves through craggy, damp rock. The sun is blotted out here, the air wet and smelling of dirt and forest decay. The natural scents don’t bother me. Colton lets me hop down this time, my boots crunching over pieces of shale as I grab our scrolls.
Once I return to the horse, Colton and I read the final clue in tandem.
The key is at the creation.
A name given now owned by all.
The dead may rest eternal.
But the child shall never fall.
What is it?
“Oh my God,” Colton says after a minute. “It’s talking about my great-great-great-whatever grandfather, Isaiah Darling. He founded the town. He gave it his name. And his child, this town, lives on.” He huffs an incredulous laugh. “The key is at the statue. His resting place. It’s right behind the chest.”
“Holy shit,” I realize.
