The Treasures of Windsong Caves

This was a far more interesting cave, the rocks that composed its walls glistened with eye- catching colors : pink rose quartz, quartz crystals rippled with fool’s gold, green serpentine, grey granite with white striations, and further in, stalactites and stalagmites appeared, growing up from the cave floor and down from its ceiling, formations created eons ago by mineral -carrying water. And they were descending, quite noticeably now and then Estelle cried out, “Look!” She pointed to the wall on the right and Mitch raised his light higher. “My God,” whispered Hardy. “I don’t believe it.” He stood in awe, observing a sight he had only read about in books. “Ancient cave drawings—look at the colors that remain—and the graceful lines. All my life I have read of these things, never expecting to see them in person and here they are, right in front of us.” “On your property,” said Mitch. Estelle stepped closer to the wall, reaching up to touch the figures, but he yelled, “No, don’t touch them. The oil in your fingers might harm the colors.” She backed away, feeling like a naughty child but realizing he was right. “I’m afraid we have an ancient historical site here. This could be big trouble as far as privacy goes. The local Indians, the government, everyone could claim this as their heritage. And Bobby knew that.” Mitch scanned the wall with his light, illuminating running horses etched in red ochre and black charcoal, bison with horns as long as their bodies, antelope, cougars, bears, all matter of animals, many who had long gone extinct. Stick figures with weapons were represented: man the hunter, and lower down on the wall was an irregular line of hand prints. Like kids making presents at Christmas time, the occupants of the cave had coated their palms in a red dye and pressed them into the damp clay wall, leaving imprints for their ancestors to find and wonder at. The mural extended downward, following the fall of the cave, and ran at least seventy five feet, Mitch’s guess. “What did Bobby think when he found this?” said Estelle. “Maybe this is why he doesn’t want any treasure found.” Hardy stood arms crossed taking in the wonder of it all. “Maybe this is the treasure and the other is just a bluff. Maybe he didn’t want anyone in here and he set up the coin box and the writing in the folder to point everyone in the wrong direction.” They thought about Hardy’s words but Mitch said, “No, the description was too real—about the dead soldiers and the horse and dog. Bobby was too shook up. And it changed him, he found religion. Somewhere there’s a real treasure of gold and silver and jewels. This wall is great, but it’s not what we came looking for. That we found it is an accident.” “I agree,” said Estelle. I don’t think Bobby was capable of conjuring such a complicated diversion. We need to keep looking.” “Very well,” said Hardy. “Lead the way, Mitch.” This cave had no rope guide lines along its walls and they walked together in the middle of the path, Mitch in front, Estelle and Hardy following, Bella on Hardy’s heel. The decorated wall stopped at a strange outcropping of granite and Mitch pulled up abruptly and shone the light in front of them. The steep pathway downward seemed to be carved into crude sandstone steps, and as they carefully made their way down, they became aware of the sound of running water. “Does everyone hear it?” exclaimed Mitch. “This is our underground stream. Maybe this is where Bobby’s water ended up before it got dressed up and headed to town.” “It’s a possibility,” said Hardy. “Watch it, these steps crumble.” Estelle, being the smallest, was having a difficult time negotiating the downward climb, which became steeper and more dangerous, and Hardy held her hand, pulling her back up when she began to slide. “I got you, honey, don’t worry. Keep on going. Slow and steady gets the job done.” “Just don’t let go of my hand please,” she pleaded. Bella was excited at hearing the water and Hardy called her back several times, cautioning her to stay with him, for the path down was becoming treacherous. The sound of the water became louder and more urgent and when Mitch raised his light again, they saw the rushing torrent some fifty feet below. No more that twenty feet wide, it had carved a trough through solid granite. Deep, jagged fissures in the cave walls emptied trickles of water into the stream, seeping, no doubt, from Bobby’s flooded tunnels. It was easy to imagine how these fractures must have swollen and ruptured during the overflow. Mitch moved his light up and down the cave walls and they saw the recent high water mark a mere ten feet below them, still wet and glistening. Mitch’s light flickered and faded. “Oh no,” shouted Estelle, hoping to make herself heard over the sound of the water. And then Mitch’s light died. They switched on their meager flashlights, turned and started the climb back up, Estelle gripping Hardy’s hand until he lost the feeling in his fingers.