I had been totally absorbed as I read the Barker account of Sourdough's story, but why had it ended so abruptly? If Sourdough had hidden the Beale letter along with the map, why had I found the letter tucked into the journal? Why wasn't the map there too? Was it the same map I had found in the cemetery? Had anyone found the Beale treasure or Blackjack's gold? Why hadn't the newspaper man told the rest of the story? There MUST be an explanation somewhere!Maybe I had overlooked something.
I opened Blackjack's journal and studied the pages more closely. The last entry was made the day of the incident at The Capricorn Saloon. Blackjack noted that the Beale letter with the code was missing, and so was a very important page from his journal. He had resigned himself to the fact that he couldn't solve the page of numbers without the key, and the key was gone ... burned up in the fire at the boarding house. All he had left was his cache of gold, and he needed the missing page with his notations. He knew that the devious cook had the page, and the letter, and he vowed to find Sourdough Duke if it was the last thing he ever did.
There was nothing else in the journal, and there was no more of the Barker manuscript in C's bookmobile. I was determined to find the answer to this mystery; I had to know what happened! I decided to do some more investigating around Brisbee to see what I could find.
My first prospect was a place a short distance from town, out on Ten Mile Creek, where I had done some rock-hunting and day-dreaming in my youth. There was an old pile of logs that had been a cabin at one time, and maybe it was the one that had belonged to Sour-Mash Marsh. I hadn't been there since I was ten or eleven years old, but it was worth taking a look. There was always a chance of finding something in places like that, but even if I didn't, it would give me a fun diversion and time to think.
I took what little gear I had; leather gloves, a rock pick, and a small folding shovel. I arrived at the site fully expecting it to be empty, but the logs were still there. I poked around for a few minutes, hoping to scare away any snakes or scorpions that might be hiding in the rotting heap, and then I set to work moving some of the wood. After several hours of work, and finding nothing but a few rocks for my collection plus a bunch of old broken whiskey bottles, I decided to try another place I had in mind.
The ancient building which had housed the Brisbee Gazette was boarded up and deteriorating. It hadn't been used in years, but I looked around until I found a place I could crawl through a window. The inside of the building was full of cobwebs and dirt, and the light from outside was dim. There was a musty smell about the place, and as I looked around I saw boxes of wooden type that had been turned over on the floor. The printing press was long gone ... probably in a museum somewhere.
I made my way to a back room that appeared to have been an office. The glass in the door was broken, but I could still make out the name: Horace Gerald Barker, Editor-In-Chief. I searched through the drawers of an old desk that was in the room, but didn't find anything of importance. I then turned my attention to a huge safe standing against the north wall. The door was closed, but not locked, so I opened it, rummaged around a bit, and on a shelf at the bottom of the safe I found an old box with some printing on the lid that I couldn't quite make out. I brushed away the thick layer of dust and opened it. It was full of paper, and as I read the top page, I realized that I had likely found the rest of the Barker manuscript. This was unreal! I had never been so lucky!
Strange that this material hadn't been with the other volumes of the manuscript ... and very strange, indeed, that no one had ever looked for it! Or, had they? I gathered the box containing the pages and left the same way I had entered.
