Free Last in a Long Line of Rebels by Lisa Lewis Tyre Page A

profile, smiling up at Brody Kimmel. “I think she’s kinda pretty.”
    â€œYes, she is. Brody is not bad, either. He sort of looks like my dad.” Franklin took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt.
    Brody and Louise were the only ones smiling in the photo. Olivia was blurry, like she’d gotten impatient and moved. Walter looked like he’d swallowed a bug. “He looks too serious to be a gold thief,” I said. “Did you find anything about it on the Internet?”
    â€œNo. The only thing that came up from a search of Mayhew and gold was a golf tournament in Mayhew, Mississippi. Gold sponsorships are one thousand dollars.”
    â€œIt might just be a rumor, anyway,” Benzer said. “Like Mrs. Hall said.”
    â€œMaybe,” I said. “But remember, Daddy said no one would do business with them.”
    â€œThat’s right,” a voice said from behind us.
    We turned to see Mr. Neely peering over our shoulders.
    He continued, “Emotions were high at the end of the war, a lot of families and friends never spoke again, but Mayhew had a particularly tough time of it.”
    â€œBecause of the gold?” I asked, peering at the brown photograph. “Is that why everyone hated him?”
    â€œPerhaps. Or it could have been the murder.”
    â€œMurder,” I squealed. “Who did he kill?”
    Mr. Neely looked at us, a surprised expression on his face. “You’re related to Walter Mayhew, and you don’t know the story?” He rubbed his chin, staring at the photograph. “It was never proven, of course, but some thought he killed that young man there, Brody Kimmel.”
    It was Franklin’s turn to look stunned. “Lou’s ancestor killed mine?”
    â€œYes, well, as I said, it was never proven,” Mr. Neely said.
    â€œThis is just wonderful. Not only did my crazy ancestor supposedly steal some gold, but he was a murderer to boot. Why do people even like history?”
    Mr. Neely smiled gently. “Don’t take it so hard. Try to look at it as a puzzle. Your ancestors left you a great mystery to solve.”
    â€œThat’s what Mrs. Hall called it,” I said. “What’s the big question—whether the Mayhew dude was a run-of-the-mill murderer or a serial killer?”
    â€œNo.” Mr. Neely laughed. “I was speaking of the gold. If he did steal it, he did a very good job of hiding it. It’s been well over a hundred fifty years, and the stolen gold has never been found.”

From the diary of Louise Duncan Mayhew
August 1861
    Cousin Olivia has arrived from Knoxville to help, since Mother’s illness has left her confined
to her bed and we are all stretched beyond our norm. I am especially glad to have someone my own age in the house. Olivia was firmly against secession, and is quite shocking in her statements regarding the ills of slavery. I trust seeing how much our lives depend on Jeremiah and Dode’s help in the fields, and Molly, Lainey and Singer’s for the housework and cooking will see her properly educated.
    F ranklin and Benzer talked excitedly the whole walk home, stopping every now and then to high-five each other on the sidewalk, and chanting, “Stolen gold, never found.”
    Benzer smiled at me. “Lou, this is awesome news. Why are you so quiet?”
    â€œOh, I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe because my great-great-grandfather killed Franklin’s ancestor?”
    Franklin took off his glasses and wiped the lens against his shirt. “Great-great-GREAT-grandfather,” he corrected. “I admit that was an unfortunate piece of information. But I can hardly hold it against you, Lou.”
    â€œThat’s right,” Benzer said. “And honestly—haven’t you wanted to kill Franklin at least once or twice since you’ve known him?”
    â€œBenzer!”
    â€œSeriously, Lou,” Franklin said.