Free A Boy Called Duct Tape by Christopher Cloud Page A

from time to time while stroking his cat, which was curled up on his lap.
    I said we had a map showing a cave on the west side of Bear Mountain. The map charted a route through the cave to the Jesse James treasure. I told him the date on the coin and the date of the famous Jesse James train robbery outside Glendale, Missouri were the same. I said $20 gold coins were stolen in the robbery. I concluded my story by saying I believed the coin I found might have come from the Jesse James treasure. I could tell from Monroe’s eyes that he was interested in my wild tale.
    It was the first time I had told the story from beginning to end, and it sounded believable. There was only one small problem … the map.
    “Let’s see the map,” Monroe said.
    I had no desire to show Monroe our one-dollar treasure map. It looked more like a toy map than a real map. Monroe would freak out when he saw it.
    “We’ll show you the map when we get to Bear Mountain,” I said, trying to buy some time. “The map shows a cave entrance on the west side of Bear Mountain about halfway to the summit. The cave leads to the treasure.”
    Monroe glared at me. “You say you had a coin, but it was stolen. You say you have a map, but you won’t show it to me.” He shook his head. “Pretty flimsy reason for poor old Monroe to go chasing shadows in the dark. Talk is cheap.”
    “You’ll have to take our word for it,” I said, my stomach making some sort of weird nervous growl. “When we get to Bear Mountain I’ll show you the map.”
    Monroe snorted. “Pia, do you promise to show me this map when we get to Bear Mountain?” He leaned forward in his rocking chair.
    Pia had been chewing on the knuckle of her thumb. She pulled it away and said, “I promise.”
    After a short pause, Monroe said, “Fair enough.”
    “Then you’ll act as our guide?” Kiki asked, the words flying out of her mouth.
    “For a price.”
    I looked at Kiki, as if to say: What’s a fair price? Kiki shook her head and shrugged.
    “How’s a third of the treasure sound, Monroe?” I asked in a polite tone.
    Monroe considered it for a moment. “Half.”
    “A third,” I said, an anxious lump swelling in my throat.
    Monroe was silent for several seconds, and the words “Okay, half,” were on my tongue when Monroe said, “All right, a third, it is.”
    I gave an anxious nod.
    The rag on Monroe’s hand had become saturated with blood, and he got up, set the cat on the floor, and went to the sink. He removed the bloody dishtowel and ran water over the cut.
    “I’ve heard stories about a Jesse James treasure,” Monroe said. “Those stories have been going around for years. Only one small hitch.” He opened a drawer under the kitchen counter. He found a clean towel and made a second bandage. “Actually, it’s a big hitch.”
    “What?” I asked.
    “There are no caves in Bear Mountain.”
    “How do you know?” Kiki asked, scooting to the edge of the sofa, and hanging on Monroe’s every word.
    “I know because I’m on a first-name basis with every rock, tree, and blade of grass in Ozark County,” Monroe said. “No caves in Bear Mountain.” He came back over and stood by the wood-burning stove, tightening the homemade bandage. “None.”
    “But the map shows a cave,” I said. “On the west side of Bear Mountain about halfway to the summit.”
    “I’ll be real interested in seeing this map of yours,” Monroe said, his eyes pinched together in suspicion.
    “You’ll see it,” Kiki confirmed.
    “Honest, Mr. Huff,” Pia said. “Like Pablo said, we’ll show you the map when we get to Bear Mountain. It’s a really cool map that we bought for—”
    “Pia!” I barked. “Please don’t say another word.”
    Pia cringed. “Oh, sorry.”
    Monroe looked at my nine-year-old sister, a strange smile spreading across his face. “Do you know what I like about caves, sweet pea?”
    “No, sir,” Pia replied faintly.
    “It’s not the silence, although silence