Paco Valdez
DU
Slowly you unwrap the cloth and find black steel beneath. A finely crafted Smith and Wesson with an extended barrel. It is easy to grip, and the sight seems on key.
"One of the best guns ever crafted." He says to you. "They don't make 'em the same no more. Your pap had it adjusted a bit so that it came out of the holster a little faster. I always thought he was full of shit, but he swore that it came out faster."
Your father was a banker. There's no way this was his, is there?
"Open the cloth up the rest of the way." He tells you. You comply and find a key within. "That'll open a lock." He tells you. "Now unfold that cloth."
You unfold the cloth and find a map drawn on the other side, your father's handwriting clearly printed to mark certain points. "What is this?" You ask of the old man.
"That's where your father stuck his part of the gold. He and I robbed a bit from the Mexican Army. We encountered a disorganized patrol unit who was transporting the gold and caught them off guard. They fired upon us and quickly regretted it when we returned fire and killed all seven of them. A friend of ours died in that fight, but we took every last one of those sonsabitches down. We hid the gold deep in an abandoned goldmine, where no one would ever find it, and were supposed to get it out in five years together. He never showed. I'd heard he met a woman and had a kid, and I don't know if it slipped his mind or if he didn't know how he was going to explain it to his family, but I kept most of it there in case he should ever come looking for it. I guess you're the next best thing."
He stares at you for a minute while you study the map with a mixture of excitement and skepticism. But you can't deny your fathers print. This is his writing.
"I'd be glad to take you there tomorrow. But it's a tough journey through Indian Territory." He tells you.
Slowly you unwrap the cloth and find black steel beneath. A finely crafted Smith and Wesson with an extended barrel. It is easy to grip, and the sight seems on key.
"One of the best guns ever crafted." He says to you. "They don't make 'em the same no more. Your pap had it adjusted a bit so that it came out of the holster a little faster. I always thought he was full of shit, but he swore that it came out faster."
Your father was a banker. There's no way this was his, is there?
"Open the cloth up the rest of the way." He tells you. You comply and find a key within. "That'll open a lock." He tells you. "Now unfold that cloth."
You unfold the cloth and find a map drawn on the other side, your father's handwriting clearly printed to mark certain points. "What is this?" You ask of the old man.
"That's where your father stuck his part of the gold. He and I robbed a bit from the Mexican Army. We encountered a disorganized patrol unit who was transporting the gold and caught them off guard. They fired upon us and quickly regretted it when we returned fire and killed all seven of them. A friend of ours died in that fight, but we took every last one of those sonsabitches down. We hid the gold deep in an abandoned goldmine, where no one would ever find it, and were supposed to get it out in five years together. He never showed. I'd heard he met a woman and had a kid, and I don't know if it slipped his mind or if he didn't know how he was going to explain it to his family, but I kept most of it there in case he should ever come looking for it. I guess you're the next best thing."
He stares at you for a minute while you study the map with a mixture of excitement and skepticism. But you can't deny your fathers print. This is his writing.
"I'd be glad to take you there tomorrow. But it's a tough journey through Indian Territory." He tells you.