Dusty Books, Frontier LibrarianR.T. Carr, Editor Chapter 18Dusty's inherited books and more $... A word puzzle... A box and unimaginable wealth... Decisions based on his new circumstance... Babe... A few bequests... 2 unwelcome and unexpected visitors... I awoke not knowing what time it was, but I felt it was a few hours later in the afternoon. I was strangely calm, even though there had been a great deal of excitement for me. I still am in utter disbelief, even when I'm simply thinking of Dennison and my windfall, courtesy of a nice little threadbare man, who never seemed to have a spare nickel, but always had the time to listen to my ramblings, no matter how many times or ways I told the same story. I went outside, and instantly thought of another improvement I would install very soon, a privy. Well to not put to fine a point on it, I'm an old hand at improvising in the wild and it didn't phase me a bit, but a few creature comforts would befit my age and newly found financial status! Hoo Boy it is getting deep in here! As it drew on towards evening I found it a very pleasant prospect to contemplate staying overnight, in the near future. I needed a bit of dinner tonight and vowed to use my new meal card this evening in town. I felt I had at least several hours to take the next step in my puzzle assignment. First I looked at the outside bindings, trying to see if there was an anagram that might be made of the titles, but with no success. The cabin was in shadow, so I fired up my little lamp in order to put a little more light at my disposal. Taking the first tome down off the shelf, after the big brown one, that is. I saw something flutter down to the floor. I found another $1000 bill! On the 3rd book I also noticed on the page that was marked by the bill there was a word or two circled. That was my new clue. I went back to the first 2 books and readily found the mark for those two bills. I rooted around in the little desk drawer finding a bit more of my scratch paper, and 15 books and 27 bills later I had a new puzzle piece, not in rhyme but legible before me: (I am placing a slash to indicate a new entry. Here's how it fit together: In the / Wall / behind / you / lurks / a treasure / Box. / Sealed / Shut / inside / All the / filthy / Lucre / you / might / wish. / Guard it / with / Wealth / comes / worry / Now / you know / why / firearm / sits / in the first / Attached to the last bill was a small note:
Total it up and look for the number D. Adding up my booty I had 100 new $1000 bills.
Under one of the coat hooks I found a carved emblem of a filigree letter
'D' with 100 in the loop of it. After pushing and tapping for a few
minutes I discovered the whole panel slid off readily revealing the tin
box I'm going to solder up and put these writings in. There were 51
sheets in the box, official looking documents tied together. Dennison's
final note was on the top document written in pencil:
Made out to bearer in case your identity you
switch It's all yours pardner!
I remain faithfully yours, the very late,
Dennison This last statement was so much like him it brought a tear to these old eyes. Dear reader, you have heard many tall tales from me, and on some I have made amends by telling you the truth of it all, after you heard the yarn. I confess the depth and breadth of those whoppers readily. But what I am about to tell you sounds like the most preposterous of whoppers, and ironically it is the absolute gospel truth! In the box, hinged but otherwise not locked, hidden in the wall in a dinky little cabin outside of Virginia City Nevada were 50 bond certificates made out to bearer for what is known as the 'Comstock Lode'. I knew these were extremely valuable, because they had matured. There was also a deed to something called the "Jackpot Mine', which if I have divined rightly is a deed to this property. The artesian well is mentioned in it as a point of location. It was discovered by the miner's who held the deed and sold to Dennison for $90, apparently since it had no gold on it! It was ideal for his privacy is my guess, the water being a bonus. As fate has worked it out I've been able to cash these, thus taking much of my fortune with me when I depart, but you'll hear all about this later. I had no idea of the actual value but I could conservatively see at least a Million dollars was not out of the question. (Editor's note: Comstock Bonds, sold to increase investment capital and cashed in 1875 would yield approximately 1.3 Million Dollars. No record exists Yea or Nay if these were actually ever cashed in. It is assumed he successfully cashed them in, since bearer bonds only need a bearer to be cashed. RTC) What made me marvel was how Dennison remained so calm. I certainly was thrown into an appreciation and respect for his life. Money did not go to his head. I suppose it is like turning on a faucet. Once on it is difficult to shut off. Somehow he did it. I did not have as much confidence in my character, and a feeling of abject fear was the only thing that would keep me on the straight and narrow. I intended to keep a low profile for as long as possible, but there were several facts that would not assist in this endeavor. My concern was for my mortality, a possible foreshortening of life due to the money and all that goes with it. Since my brother was lost to me in that great Civil War, I had no one to leave my estate to, except perhaps to the one person who didn't need it, Babe. As soon as I could I had Boyd with no middle initial Murphy draw up a simple paper to this effect. I did not trust Murphy with knowing about my financial windfall, since Dennison hadn't, after all in Julius Caesar is the warning about killing all the lawyers. For a small fee, again paid in that medium that no one argues about, he set up the will for me, in much the same manner as Dennison's. I simply indicated the land with the cabin, its contents, and cash assets as my estate. Babe did not use his last name, since I think he was a stepson to a man he hated that had adopted him. That is why we all called him Babe. His last name was Harrison. Christopher Barnabas Harrison. He was now my heir. As far as the world knew, whatever was left of my money at the conclusion of my life was his to keep. With the $3000 I had put aside for my own retirement, and the $15,000 I had inherited., I'd say he was pretty well fixed. He wasn't told about this. I wanted it to be a surprise, and I felt he would worry about it. I did not wish to alter his serenity. I did add a codicil about a week later giving Virginia City the water rights to the well, as long as Babe could use it in perpetuity. I owed the city for my library building, since they had built it for me and allowed me the stipend I mentioned as well as the lodging. It had already been stipulated that the contents would become theirs when I finally kicked the bucket. Babe built a fine shelter for the animals before winter set in, I moved out and he moved in to my little room, which he thought of as a palace. He did devise a trough for their water supply, and built a little shed over the well cap, placing the shelter right next to it. It became a part of the new structure, and was perhaps even more anonymous than before. I started living there full time. I think I was as content with my new privy as much as anyone can be, its crescent carved in the door along with my DB initials. So that was how it laid, all the way to March 1875, just 2 days ago in fact as of this writing. I found myself in the dilemma of being a rich man with lots of untraceable assets, who still had a job and a situation he loved and didn't want to change. Babe loved his new accommodations, a real step up from the little lean-to miners cabin he had squatted in for the last several years. I made sure he got a little more money, since he was now a 'caretaker'. He celebrated by buying himself a new hat. There were a lot more empty buildings lately. Oh the city was still lively. The face was still on the barroom floor, gold was still to be mined, but now it was more from the tailings, or what was left in slag heaps after the first mining had been done years back. There was still a core of folks just too stubborn to depart unless it was for heaven. I suppose I was one of those. I did start reading the day old papers, too. Don't even suppose I could tell you why. Perhaps it was because it always found itself to the library porch, every day. The obituaries were a bit unsettling since it often mentioned someone I knew. It was gettin' to where the dead outnumbered the living in my life, no surprise at that. I did make a rather tense trip to San Francisco, but it was by train the whole way except for the ferry into the city from Oakland. I wore my bonds on my body in a money belt. Being corpulent made it easy. No one knew I was carrying anything more than my usual body weight. I guess I'm at the point where I appear harmless, an old man with a cane who really needs it. I cashed in my bonds and then went down the street to the next bank, putting the proceeds in my real name. I had all but forgotten it; it had been so long since I had used it. To the world I was Dusty Books, but to a select few I was, no I mustn't tell in case this is found by accident before I return to it, or sometime after the turn of the century. The undoing of my current situation was the very dime novel I had enjoyed embellishing so much. I was now packing my iron, but it made no difference to anyone. I did wear it somewhat unobtrusively under my coat a great deal. With a little practice I was able to not blow off my foot when I drew my gun. Did I ever mention I was a lefty? The tin cans I eventually slaughtered were without number, well not to exagerate too much, at least 30 I'd guess, using them until they were so full of holes that they could not be shot at. I was no gun slinger, since I know it is different with shooting something that is living and has the real possibility of shooting back at you, versus target practice with a few tin cans. I rode in to town early yesterday and Babe was waiting to see me when I hitched my horse to the Library's hitching post. He said there were two men looking for me, and he did notice they had a copy of the dime novel with them. He said they'd be back, and he didn't think too much of them, saying they seemed really odd. Now if Babe had noted this, you can take it to the bank. I have learned to trust his instincts in a lot of matters, even as far as helping me find my missing spectacles, which are often perched on the top of my head. He's such a good soul that he is not judgmental and doesn't make me feel I've lost my mind. He's patient and I lot like the son I've never had. He needed a Dad, since the feller Harrison made such a negative impression on him that he had stated matter of factly to me once, that had the man lived he would go to his room, get his double barrel shotgun and use it on him, without any moment of hesitation. Poor soul manages to forget most of the time. I was to owe him my life soon enough, and that is the Gospel truth. My best laid plans concerning he and I were about to all a kilter and pretty catawumpus. It would be a really close situation of some peril we would have to travail. I am here to tell about it and so is he, so one can guess the outcome. But believing the story is another kettle of fish.
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