Chasing the Thrill of Fenn's Treasure (Fiction, Part 2)

This is Part 2 of a work of fiction. Please check my blog for the other parts. This chapter will not make sense unless you've read Part 1 first!

Brody had quit his job and spent most of his remaining money outfitting himself for this trip. He had left everything he had known to search for the legendary treasure of Forrest Fenn. He carried a backpack equipped for backcountry travel. It also carried detailed maps that Brody had ordered, showing the detailed physical geography of several promising search areas. The treasure would lie in one of those areas, Brody was sure.

The Poem Marks the Spot

He thought again about the poem Forrest Fenn had written, containing clues to the location of the treasure that the eccentric millionaire had hidden somewhere in the Rocky Mountains between New Mexico and Montana.

As I have gone alone in there
And with my treasures bold,
I can keep my secret where,
And hint of riches new and old.

Begin it where warm waters halt
And take it in the canyon down,
Not far, but too far to walk.
Put in below the home of Brown.

From there it's no place for the meek,
The end is ever drawing nigh;
There'll be no paddle up your creek,
Just heavy loads and water high.

If you've been wise and found the blaze,
Look quickly down, your quest to cease,
But tarry scant with marvel gaze,
Just take the chest and go in peace.

So why is it that I must go
And leave my trove for all to seek?
The answers I already know,
I've done it tired, and now I'm weak.

So hear me all and listen good,
Your effort will be worth the cold.
If you are brave and in the wood
I give you title to the gold.

Sometimes, when Brody thought about the words to the poem, some new idea struck him. Other times, he felt like he was making no progress. But the truth was that he'd already made lots of progress in his mind and with the maps. Now, it was time to test out some of his theories. Boots on the ground time.

On the flight to Denver, he ordered coffee, hoping the caffeine would dull the hurt he felt from his cigarette withdrawal. After his fiasco with the last pack of cigarettes and the lighter that burned his hand, Brody had decided (again) that he was done smoking. If only he could hold to that resolution. He would try to quit this time; he really would.

Waiting for his connecting flight in Denver, Brody decided the coffee wasn’t enough. There was a bar near his gate with a game on TV. Maybe relaxing would help him. He sat down and ordered a beer.

Carlos

The game was nothing special. Iowa State vs. Kansas State, tied up at 21 in the 3rd Quarter. Are those teams in the Big 12? Baby 12, more like. Brody would rather watch his beloved Crimson Tide, but this wasn’t even a live game. It wasn’t football season yet. Fox Sports was just cheap enough to show a re-run with two nothing teams.

And anyway, Alabama was in the past. As he sipped his draft IPA from some Rocky-something brewery, Brody felt fresher. The bitterness of the hops was waking him up. He was ready to begin this journey. From there, he’d let fate take him in a new direction before he grabbed the wheel to steer again.

The Kansas State quarterback threw an interception. Brody laughed. And he heard an echo to his right. The man in the next seat caught his eye and was smiling.

“That was stoopid,” the man said, taking a swig of something that looked like whisky.

“Bad pass,” Brody agreed. “He threw it right into to double coverage.”

The man smiled again. “Fortunately, this Wildcat learns his lesson,” he said. “I remember this game from last season. Two more touchdown passes and K-State wins by at least 10 points.”

“You have a pretty good memory,” Brody replied. “I could watch a whole game with these two teams and not remember how they did a month later.”

“Not quite the Tide, are they?”

“Hey, how did you…?” But suddenly, Brody remembered he was wearing an Alabama cap from back home. So this wasn’t the cleanest break from his past. Maybe he’d ditch the hat later and get something local. Once he got closer to his destination.

“I’m Carlos,” the man offered, reaching out his hand.

“Brody. Nice to meet you, Carlos. What brings you to Denver?”

“Oh, I’m through here a couple of times per week. Oil and gas exploration. Texas to North Dakota to Southern California. Most of my routes lead through Denver. Busy airport and crossroads. How about you?”

Iowa State returned the kickoff for about 30 yards. The returner looked to be banged up from the hit. Brody turned towards Carlos, sizing up his companion for the first time.

Carlos appeared about 50 years old. He wore a cowboy hat and a winning smile. He was short in height and had a pencil thin mustache, which you didn’t see too often.

“I’m going out west for some hiking,” Brody said. “Took some time off so I can see the sights.”

“Can I ask what kind of work you do in Alabama?” Carlos asked.

“Landscaping,” said Brody. “I owned a business with a friend. We were building it up pretty nicely, but it was time for something new. So I sold my interest to buy some good camping equipment and supplies. And I’ll buy a car when I get out west also.”

“OK, let me guess,” said Carlos. “So you’re not staying in Denver or probably Colorado. Hiking… I’d guess you’re going north to Montana, south to the desert somewhere, or all the way west. I’ll settle with…south. Grand Canyon?”

Brody grinned. “South is correct. But I thought I’d start in New Mexico.”

“That’s where I’m from,” Carlos said. “Grew up in Las Cruces, stone’s throw from the Rio Grande. Third generation cattle rancher, but I let my brother run the ranch so I could go in search of more wealth from oil and gas exploration.”

“Hopefully, you’re doing well with it,” Brody remarked.

“As a matter of fact, I am,” said Carlos, “I’m the CEO of an exploration company and we’ve had a good run of success out there. So tell me, where in New Mexico are you planning to hike? I don’t mean to be nosy, but since I know the state, maybe I can give you some tips.”

Brody looked at his watch. He still some time until his flight was ready to board. He resigned himself to this conversation with Carlos. The man might think he was crazy, but maybe he could learn something from a New Mexican that might benefit him on the hikes.

“I’m starting in Santa Fe, heading north.”

“At least 8.25 miles north?” Carlos asked with his eyebrows raised.

So he knew. Brody nodded.

The smile grew on Carlos’ face and he slapped the bar. “I guessed right! Treasure hunter. Forrest Fenn’s gold. Only thing north of Santa Fe.”

“You have me pegged,” Brody admitted. “I heard about Fenn’s gold a couple of years ago. I’ve made it a hobby to research the clues he’s left. I think I know how to start. Most people over-analyze, but Fenn always said that you need to think like a child. I finally decided there wasn’t much I could do from Alabama. My girl and I recently broke up, so I decided the time was right to indulge myself.”

“All in, huh?”

“Yessir. Getting ready for the biggest hike of my life.”

"No risk, no reward," said Carlos. "Think smart and it just might pay off. And if not, there's no thrill like the chase."

This was Part 2 of a fictional story

Please check back later for the other parts. The picture above is a montage made by the author based on images from the Forest Fenn books Thrill of the Chase (One Horse Land & Cattle Co. 2010) and Too Far to Walk (same publisher 2013) and public domain material, including the border photo of the Yellowstone River. Here is a link to Fenn's book; I do not make any profit from recommending it. https://www.collectedworksbookstore.com/product/thrill-chase-forrest-fenn I simply thought the whole saga would provide an interesting background for this novel.