Free HisBootsUnderHerBed by Unknown

long, Father Chavez?”
    “I can’t speak for the length of his suffering, but he remained with us for about a month before he passed on into the hands of our Blessed Lord.”
    Still stunned, Garth said, “I can’t believe I’ve actually met someone who was with him at the end. I worshiped my Uncle Henry, and I’m glad to hear that he was with someone who cared when he died.”
    “We all cared greatly for Henry Fraser, my son. And he spoke often, and with abounding love and pride, of his nephews.” The priest’s eyes appeared to twinkle with enjoyment. “You were his favorite, you know.”
    Garth grinned with pleasure. “Really? I had no idea. Sure wish I could have spent more time with him.”
    “You have an opportunity to do so now, my son, and to say a final good-bye. Your uncle is buried in the cemetery behind the church.”
    “If you don’t mind, I would like to do that, Father, then come back and finish our business.”
    “I will be glad to. I must leave now and hear confessions; just go out that door at the rear. You will see the cemetery.”
    As Garth reached the iron fence that enclosed the small cemetery, the dark-haired woman who had served their drinks came hurrying out. Garth tipped his hat and stepped aside. She lowered her head and nodded, then rushed away.
    It did not take long to find his uncle’s grave. A freshly watered small pine tree stood behind the simple cross carved with the inscription HENRY FRASER , 1811–1847.
    “I’ve thought about you so often, Uncle Henry,” Garth said softly. “We didn’t get the letter you wrote us until three years after you died. I’m glad I finally found you. You have a peaceful resting place in this quiet spot, with a view of the mountains in the distance. And I make this oath, Uncle Henry: I’ll let no one cheat the family of your legacy. I’ll get your mine back,” Garth vowed.
    He spent a short time passing among the grave markers, looking at the dates that reflected almost two centuries of Spanish colonization.
    At dusk, when a setting sun had dimmed the light into blue shadows, Garth went for a walk in the town—not that there was much to see.
    To Garth, who took an optimistic approach about most things, there was something sad about the dying town. He couldn’t help thinking about the people who had once lived there. What had become of the dreams they had brought with them?
    A town didn’t suddenly appear from nowhere; it had to have begun with people—their hopes, their optimism, their faith. Had they all been for naught? Trampled into dust? Or had some seen their hopes and dreams come to fruition?
    And was it truly gold that had lured his uncle to this place, or was it destiny that had drawn Henry Fraser? And now him, as well?
    His gaze swung to the nearest mountain peak towering above the town. In the fading light of day it appeared shadowy, ominous.
    A sudden burst of wind swept across the rocky specter, leaving in its wake an echo that sounded like the wail of a dying animal. A shiver rippled Garth’s spine, and he hurried back to the mission.
    Father Chavez was waiting for him when he returned to the rectory.
    “Sir, I have been thinking about my uncle’s claim. If the O’Gradys are now the legal owners of the mine, it appears I’ll have to pursue a different tack. Do you have a detailed plat of the area bordering the claim?”
    The priest riffled through a mass of musty-smelling maps and pulled out the one he sought. “This is the quadrant where the mine can be found,” Father Chavez said as they leaned over the table. “The horizontal lines represent the latitude and the vertical lines the longitude. These contour lines indicate the altitude. And this,” he said, pointing to a marking on the map, “is the exact location of the O’Grady claim.”
    “You mean my uncle’s claim,” Garth corrected.
    “I can only identify it as what has been legally claimed, Señor Fraser.”
    “Father, please call me Garth.”
    “If