What Went Down Behind the Bull Pen

Twelve year old Michael Horne tenuously leaned against the huge wooden corral, keeping a cautious eye on the massive beast it contained. The bull, heaving its colossal head with inimitable ferocity, kicked and bucked in circles around his pen. Blowing dust off the ground with each great snort, making it appear as if smoke poured from his nostrils as depicted in cartoons.

Mike took a deep breath as he observed the gigantic animal parade about in it's extreme vexation.

Jimmy sidled back up to Mike, leaning up against the heavy wooden railing. He passed him a crumpled brown paper bag.

Mike opened it. Inside was a well-worn wooden handled revolver.

"It's an old one," Jimmy said. "My dad won't miss it, and if he notices, then I'll just tell him I sold it to one of the ranch hands. He'll be happy I made him some money anyway."

"It looks like a cowboy's gun," said Mike.

"Heh, It probably was." said Jimmy. "I put some bullets there, in the bag. But the gun's not loaded. You know how to use it?"

Mike nodded. His father had taken him shooting out in the woods behind the farm on many occasions in the nearly three years since he turned 10. That was his father's rule, you can learn to shoot a gun on your 10th birthday. "It takes at least a decade to learn what a serious responsibility it is to hold life or death in your hands first" his father had always said. Mike's father had even taken him hunting these past two winters. He had brought home two turkeys and a doe so far, hopefully this year he'd bag his first big buck. Next year his brother Jay would be able to accompany them. He looked forward to hunting with Jay. He reckoned Jay would be better at it than himself, on account of how quiet and observant his brother naturally was.

"If you want, we could go out by the old mill pond and fire off a few rounds for fun." Jimmy cheerfully suggested.

"Thanks a million Jimmy, but I best be getting back home." Mike told his friend.

"Think nothing of it." Jimmy replied with cordiality.

Mike rolled the top of the brown paper bag up into itself, and stuffed it down the front of his shirt.

As he turned to face the road and take the long walk back home, he glanced back over his shoulder at the enormous bull. The animal had stopped spinning and just stood there, reared back huffing in the middle of it's pen. Mike thought it looked as if the great beast was staring straight at him. Staring him down, ready to charge through the wooden railing and trample him likely to death. Mike had no doubt that the animal would have too, if given the chance. The thought made him want to run, run as fast as he could all the way home. Instead he turned his back and faced the road, took a deep breath into his lungs and set off. Leaving the bull storming all to himself in the confines of his corral.

The walk home was about four and a half miles. So Mike would have plenty of time to ponder the events of the week before, and come up with a plan on what to do about their newly acquired fortune.

About a week prior, Michael and his brother Jay had been walking in the woods between their farm and the Houstons' place. When they reached the old pear tree that grew in the middle of the grove, Jay noticed and had pointed out, that the earth looked as if it had been recently disturbed.

And so it certainly had been.

The boys had come back with shovels later that evening to dig up what they assumed had been buried. They had been right, something had been buried there no earlier than the night before. Much to their shock, when they had dug down about three feet or so, they uncovered a mysterious box. Upon pulling it out and unwrapping it to reveal its contents, the boys realized that it contained what was likely thousands of dollars.

At first they were breathless, so shocked they didn't know what to do. Stacks of bills, too many to count. And a roll of cloth containing at least twenty gold coins. Gold coins were rare, they knew that much. And all this money, all this cash, had to have been stolen. They promptly scooped it up, ran home with it, and stuffed it in the hay loft straight away.

That night, they had stayed up nearly all night whispering so as to keep it secret until they could come up a plan to keep their treasure safe. Where could all that money have come from?

Could it have been a bank robbery?

From the mob perhaps? Desperately coming down to the country to bury some dirty money?

All that cash in one place.

It made them feel like pirates, high sea men. Or train robbers, outlaws with a cause.

Mike pondered a better place to bury the treasure than the hay loft. Somewhere not too obvious, but in plain sight. On their property where it would be easily accessible, but go undetected.

He thought about where the best place to stash the gun would be. He couldn't let his father find out about it, or he would surely get cross.

He thought about how to tell his parents that they'd found a box of treasure in the woods.

Best keep it a secret for now, Mike thought to himself. Wouldn't want the real life mobsters, robbers, or pirates coming back to look for it.

That's why he'd gone to Jimmy for the pistol, for protection. He'd have to keep it in the barn for now, he'd show Jay though. Maybe even his little sister Dot could know about it as long as she didn't touch it. She already knew about the treasure, more like made them tell her about it.

That little girl did not take no for an answer. She did know how to keep a secret though.

Mike was more than halfway home at this point, just passing Harry and Ethel Houston's place. Harry was pulling out of his driveway in his old brown truck. He pulled up next to Mike and stopped his vehicle. "Why good afternoon young Michael," his neighbor called out to him. "Can I give you a ride up to your place?"

"Thank you Mr. Houston," Mike replied. It was still about two miles to his house, so he gladly hopped in.

"Gonna be a good year, this one." Mr Houston mused in an effort at making small talk.

"Yessir." Mike returned

"How is school going for you?" The old man inquired.

"Just fine sir," Mike replied. This wasn't entirely the truth, Michael had always struggled in school, as reading proved quite a challenge for him. One he had made great strides in over the years, but one he preferred not to talk much about nonetheless.

"Well that's good," responded his elderly neighbor. "Say, you haven't seen anything odd or out of the ordinary happening anywhere around here have you?"

"Um, no sir. Why do you ask?" Replied Mike, a little troubled at the question. Could it have been old Harry's money underneath that tree? Surely not, he would have kept it on his own property like any reasonable man would. Did he know something about it?

"Oh, no reason, just curious is all." Said Harry with a friendly smile.

Curious indeed, thought Mike. He'd better find another hiding place as soon as he could, he told himself.

They pulled up at Mike's house. His brother and sister were in the side yard, playing army men.

Mike jumped out of the truck, "Thanks for the ride Mr Houston." Mike said, giving him a wave as he closed the door, just then Mike's mother came out onto the front porch to give their neighbor a thank you wave. Mike hollered hello to his mom as he avoided her, and ran out to the side yard to see what his siblings were up to. All the while, his mind on how to sneak the pistol into the barn, and what next to do with their spectacular treasure.