“I’m not sad that I didn’t become an archaeologist.”

They set the flashlights on boulders so that their beams pointed at the dig site, then continued. Night sounds pressed close—the low foghorn call of a bullfrog, the song of an owl.

Their hole was now about ten inches deep. What if someone had come upon this area shortly after Dad had been here, seen freshly turned earth, and gone digging out of curiosity? Maybe a stranger had already taken the item that had once been here. Or maybe the nameless, faceless person Dad regarded as a threat had figured out the hunt and beaten them to it—

The clashing sound of metal striking metal rose from the tip of Luke’s shovel.

Their eyes met.

Her pulse burst into a gallop.

“Did you just . . . hit something?” she whispered, questioning the obvious.

“I did.”

She laid down her shovel and sank to her knees.

Carefully, Luke pressed his shovel back down and cleared more dirt. Then down again. Then again.

She swept loose clods to the side, revealing a flat, shimmering surface.

“Want help?” Luke asked, lowering to his knees across from her.

“Yes, please.”

His hands joined hers, dislodging dirt.

Letters and numbers began to appear, imprinted into the surface of the metal. “‘Fine. 1863,’” she read aloud.

Had her father left her . . . bars of gold? That’s what this looked like. Bars of gold. Her brain cartwheeled, and for a few disorienting moments, she could not determine which way was up and which way was down.

Luke continued to work, finally freeing a rectangle of metal and handing it to her.

A gold bar. From 1863.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a concerned tone.

“No. Yes. Undecided.”

He pulled off his headlamp, his expression grave.

She eased into a cross-legged position, holding the bar in her lap. “I know what this is. Do you remember me mentioning that Dad raised me on bedtime stories of unsolved mysteries?”

He nodded.

“This is some of the Confederate gold that went missing at the end of the Civil War. He told me all about it. Many times.”

Artificial light lit the few feet of space between them. Dark forest encroached on every side like a crowd of avid witnesses. The wind ruffled Luke’s hair. His long-lashed eyes gleamed bright.