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This is an "Almost True" story, in which all the events spoken of have happened, but not in the same sequence as delivered. Herk's real name is Henry, and a better traveling companion one could never hope to find. And, yes, Virginia, there is a Turquoise Cowboy. I am he.
It was a cold spring day, the last day in April, one of those rainy, blustery days when the sight of the occasional snow flurry comes as no surprise. We were hunting turkeys in the mountains of the Pennsylvania-West Virginia border area, and I don't think anybody was sorry when the legal quitting time of eleven A.M. came around.
Back at the camp the wood stove was soon driving out the chill and a wild meal of bear sausage and fiddleheads was prepared. When this was devoured and the cold was leached out of our bones old Dave brought forth a jug of moonshine to pass around It wouldn't be long before the stories started to come forth.
"That's some good 'shine," pronounced Dave. "It's a pity there won't be any more like it."
"How's that," asked Herk. "They pass a law or something?" This brought forth some chuckles.
"Nah, Jim Roberts made that batch. He's dead. All the Roberts are dead since the Savage-Roberts feud. Not a one of them left alive. No Savages left either, for that matter."
He had aroused my curiosity. "When did this happen, Dave?"
"Last year. Must have been along about the last of September."
"Last year! I thought you were talking years ago."
"Nope, happened last year right up on top of the hill over there. You know that brown cabin? That's where the Savages lived. There's a burnt out cellar hole on the other side of the road. That belonged to the Roberts. I don't know why it happened to burn. Anyway, one morning we could hear shooting and it went on all morning. Then nothing more was heard.
"Next morning some of us went up and found everybody dead. Everybody except Langdon Savage. A hunter found his body a month later. Looked like he was hit hard but he tried to make it down to Devil's Hollow." (He pronounced it holler.)
"Anybody living down in there now?" Herk had once lived in this area and was more familiar with the people than I was.
"Nope. Old Abijah Roach hasn't been seen in years, so he must have died. He was old enough. His boy Abel wasn't satisfied with making shine - he took to raising dope. The funny thing is, he was caught because of the snakes."
"Come again?"
"He was buying snakes from anybody that could catch 'em. Two bucks for a copperhead and five for a rattler. The law figured he was putting them in his garden and they were right. That weed patch was crawling with them.
"When they raided he killed one trooper, so they went back in with a small army. That's what it took to take him. He's in the state pen now."
A fellow named Rye spoke up. "I'll bet there's a lot of money buried down in the Holler. Pass that jug, will you, Dog?"
At my "How's that" look, Dave explained, "The Roaches have lived in the Holler for generations, even before the Revolution. It's said they would lie in wait on the National Road and waylay travelers. When travel increased after the war they would set up a tent and sell moonshine. The travelers with money were robbed and killed.
"When the Civil War came along they expanded and raided both North and South. They showed no favoritism. After that they kept selling shine and hunting ginseng. Prohibition was a boon, for it made their product more valuable. Revenuers tried to raid the Holler from time to time, but not a one was ever seen again. That's the way it went until Abel started growing weed."
I could see that Herk's interest was growing. "So you think there's a lot of loot stashed down there?"
"I imagine. They never bought much of anything. Some copper line, corn and flour; that's about it. And they traded ginseng for a lot of that."
Herk and I exchanged glances. This bore looking into.
Dave knew us. "Now, wait a minute. You boys are free and clear to do what you want. But I don't want to even know about it. Understand?"
"About what, Dave? We're just wondering where to find a turkey in the morning."
Neither one of us got a turkey on that trip, but that's the nice thing about the spring hunt. It's mostly a chance to just get out in the fresh woods after a long cold winter.
Five months later we were again on the way to the mountains. This time we would not be visiting, for Dave had not wanted to know about this expedition.
We didn't have much for gear, just metal detectors, pry bars and shovels, and we could stack those outside while we slept in the four wheel drive station wagon. You might say we were traveling light.
We camped illegally in the state forest and at first light we were heading down into Devil's Hollow. Let me tell you, that trail was steep! I was hesitant about driving down, even in four-wheel drive, but what the heck, it was a lot steeper that I cared to walk.
The dope patch was easy to spot, for it must have been soaked in kerosene before they burned it. The very earth was burnt and devoid of all but a very few weeds that were attempting to establish a foothold. It seemed a likely spot to bury stolen riches, but though we set up a grid and worked all morning we never got a signal.
Over lunch we discussed possibilities. Finally Herk pointed to the base of the opposing rock face. "See that line of brush and rocks along that base? Sure as shooting there are some caves."
He was right. Most of them were small and open to the light. In the middle was a pile of rock that looked unnatural. When we moved the stones we found a brass studded door that had to be two centuries old. We were both anxious to be the first in as witnessed by the fact that we had backed off forty feet. Finally I went forward and eased open the door. A wave of strange odors attacked my nose. There was the rankness of rotting flesh and a strange whiff of bananas. I knew that should trigger a memory but I couldn't come up with it.
"Herk, got your light?"
Taking his flash I looked in to find hundreds of tiny eyes looking back at me. Four sets of fangs narrowly missed me as I slammed the door. Now I remembered about the bananas. Rattlers give off that smell in close quarters. For all I knew so did copperheads. I wasn't going back in to find out.
Herk and I backed off and looked at one another. Already the wheels were turning in my head. If we could get some poisonous gas we could.....
The click of one hammer, then another, wiped the slate in my mind clean. I had worked on enough shotguns to recognize the sound of an old hammer double. And I had been in enough danger that I could feel the muzzles pointing right at my back.
"Boys, you made a big mistake. I ain't dead yet but I've put a lot of other men under."
I eased around to see who was talking. He was an ancient man with most of the flesh missing from the left side of his face. It had to be Abijah.
"Yeah, you see my face? Ha, ha, a snake bit me. But I tricked him and lived. I'll always be here, boys, so get out and don't come back." His voice rose in a cackling fit of laughter and I knew he was crazy as a loon. But much more dangerous.
Why he let us go I could never figure. As we got into the wagon he added, "Ya'll don't come back now, ya hear?"
And you know what? We never did.
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