Free Freedom's Treasure by A. K. Lawrence

done, Hunter had finished the television stand, muscled the new television into the cabin and set everything up. Unhappy with the glare on the TV and uneven surround sound he kept moving the television and furniture until he felt she had the optimum set up.
     
    Hunter checked the thermostat as it seemed to be stuck around ninety degrees and his shirt was plastered to his back. Both doors were propped open and a cool breeze came through with the rush of the falling rain. The furnace kicked on and off with apparent glee while he tinkered with it.
     
    Anna moved efficiently through the kitchen. Before she took the serving dishes to the table she went through the cabin and turned off most of the lamps. She lit several candles, lowered the music and considered the mood set.
     
    Over dinner they debated the merits of a passing quarterback versus a scrambling and able to run quarterback in the NFL and ultimately agreed to disagree. They’d read many of the same books and found they wanted to travel to many of the same sun soaked beaches.
     
    Hunter pushed back from his chair and patted his stomach. “I couldn’t eat another bite. That was excellent. If I smoked I’d be reaching for a cigarette right about now,” he said.
     
    “I think that’s one of the things I miss about smoking. I quit five years ago,” she explained.
     
    “I bet I can guess another one,” he said with a wink.
     
    “There is that,” Anna nodded and took a slow sip from her wine. She couldn’t remember a time she’d felt more content. Music played in the background, candles provided soft light and a charming man sat across from her. What more could she ask? Then she remembered.
     
    “I was wondering, Hunter,” she began, “how that gold could still be hidden after all this time. The story is common enough for children to write reports about it. Why hasn’t someone from the area found it?”
     
    “I’ve wondered the same thing,” Hunter replied. “Everyone I know has looked for it at one time or another. When we were kids we used to camp out in the woods with bags of junk food and metal detectors. We never found a sign of it.”
     
    “How did you know where to look?”
     
    “We didn’t,” Hunter chuckled. “That may have been part of the problem. We had some good times, though, by ourselves out in the woods and telling ghost stories late into the night.”
     
    “With your familiarity with the legend it would seem like you’d have the best shot. And by you, I mean the secondary you, the general you, the Almighty You.”
     
    “I know what you meant, you mean the locals.” She nodded. “We know the story, grew up on it as a tale of courage, conviction and a strong belief in personal freedom. The last journals of Samuel and Robert have been lost in time, assuming they were ever here. One theory has Samuel taking his last journal with him on the fateful trip.”
     
    “I’ve been thinking about that. Is it possible Robert killed Samuel and made up a bogus story about him going back to the South?” she twirled her glass and watched the reflections.
     
    “That’s one theory I’ve heard.”
     
    “Hm.”
     
    “My personal favorite is there never was any gold,” he leaned forward conspiratorially.
     
    “Oh, yeah?”
     
    “Yeah, that one consists of Robert wanting Samuel’s land so he came up with the story about Samuel going back South. People are greedy.”
     
    Anna thought about that theory. “Where does the gold fit?”
     
    “Back in the day a man of Color being able to buy property is going to set off all sorts of alarms and questions. You know how these things work, someone comes up with a ‘What if’ and after being passed around long enough the ‘what if’ portion falls off and rumor becomes fact,” Hunter’d had most of his life to contemplate the secret of Samuel’s gold. Anna recognized a consistently shared thought when she heard one.
     
    “But the journal at the library, you said it had