“Mr. Tequila,” Excerpt 4 from “The G.O.D. Journal,” by Jeff Posey
Chapter 2, Part 1, from The G.O.D. Journal: a search for gold , a novel by Jeff Posey. Read from the beginning here.
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Two nights later, a Friday, he celebrated. He found a clue in the history museum that put the JAB journal into a new light. The first Baxter in southern Colorado, his great-great-grandfather, made a fortune in gold. Not by digging for it, but by mysterious means—had the man been a thief? A gambler? A loan shark? However he’d done it, he made a pile, mostly in Silverton, then as a founding father of Pagosa Springs he lived well in that house on Hermosa Street, but not filthy rich.
For decades, people speculated about what happened to his money and made up stories about it. Some even searched for it. A legend grew, then died about the same time as Baxter’s grandfather. The journal, cryptic though it was, seemed to confirm that the original JAB had hidden a treasure somewhere near a cliff. The man must have stashed it away before he morphed into a respectable man of Pagosa. Or maybe the temptation was too much for him and he had to get it away from his immediate grasp.
Regardless of the old man’s intent, it could serve Baxter now. If the authorities were still looking for him, and he had no reason to believe they would stop, it gave him an effective cover. There’s no better way to hide than in the wilderness searching for lost gold. Especially when he had every right to it. But he would need a little help. A guide. Someone who would recognize the landmarks mentioned in the journal. The two lakes, one above the other, and the Indian mark on the cliff. Surely someone around here would know where to start looking based on that. He didn’t expect it to be easy. It had stumped his grandfather.
He walked to a bar up on the main drag not far from the old Baxter house. A bluegrass band played. Seemed out of place. Hillbilly music in the Rocky Mountains. But they were good. He sat at a table for two and ordered a burger, fries, Guinness on tap, and two shots of Patron añejo tequila. He watched people. That’s what he wanted. Stop feeling hunted and just be a normal man with a normal tequila buzz watching normal people.
With the first sip of tequila still warming his mouth, he saw her. Not a top-flight beauty by the usual standards, but she struck him. Dark, wavy hair draped to the middle of her back. She tied it halfway with a single strand of orange yarn. Thirty, maybe, he guessed. Legs hidden in loose blue jeans. Narrow waist that swelled nicely both up and down. A bit too broad in the beam. Front teeth a little too prominent. Wide mouth and dark eyebrows. She stood and moved alone to the music, swaying back and forth, holding a Coors Light loosely by its long neck.
He made up stories about her as he nursed his tequila, letting his beer warm from the too-cold most American places poured it. School teacher. Maybe even assistant principle. Hiked a lot. Did some kind of art. Pottery, he decided. Busted up with her boyfriend a year ago. Hadn’t found a good man since. Just starting again to be ready for a little love.
She looked at him, seemingly by accident, and he nodded, raised his glass. She halfheartedly raised her longneck in his direction and then turned her attention back to the band.
He watched her, though he tried to hide it by glancing at the musicians, swinging around to inspect the rest of the crowd, picking at his remaining fries. The alcohol softened him. He longed for a little companionship.
When the band stopped and the quiet crushed the place, she turned and scanned the room. Baxter stood and indicated the empty chair at his table.
“Care to join me? Take a load off for a few minutes?”
Lame, he thought. The suave he’d had as Tom Oley left him, and he was back to not-good-enough Baxter, damn his old aunt.
“You don’t live here,” she said, as if that rendered him unworthy.
“Not anymore,” he said.
She narrowed her eyes, accentuating the crow’s feet at the corners. Her teeth made her upper lip overhang the lower by half its width.
“You used to?” she asked.
“Long time ago.”
“And now you’re back.”
“For a while, anyway.”
She came to his table and inspected it before she sat: the beer, two tequila shot glasses, remnants of the burger and fries. He had a jolt of panic that she might be a forensic psychologist somehow reading him, tracing him back to the scene of the crime, seeing through him. But he forced away the paranoia. No way. She’s just a girl, man. Settle down.
Short description for The G.O.D. Journal: After he accidentally kills his wife, Baxter runs. Hiding in his derelict boyhood home in Pagosa Springs, Colorado, he discovers a journal that leads to a treasure of gold. With the guiding hand of a deranged hunter and Wall Street financier, Baxter discovers true gold is concealed in the heart of a woman who helps him search for an Anasazi pictograph that is key to his family treasure. Read the full description….
Hot Water Press publications scheduled for 2013: Annie and the Second Anasazi (a trilogy set in the year 2054), and Soo Potter (an Anasazi historical novel). To find out when they’re available, sign up for notification by email here.
