Then I saw the initials.
T. M.
Thomas Miller.
My grandfather.
I stopped breathing.
My grandfather had been dead for twenty-two years.
He had raised me almost as much as my parents did.
He taught me to fish.
To repair fence posts.
To drive an old truck.
To save coins in jars.
To never sign papers without reading them.
I had failed at that last lesson more than once.
I touched the initials.
Then footsteps sounded outside.
I froze.
Someone was approaching the cave.
I stood quickly.
I grabbed a thick stick.
The footsteps came closer.
Then a dog entered.
The same brown stray.
White paw.
It stopped.
I lowered the stick.
“You scared me half to death.”
The dog stared.
Then sniffed toward my fire.
I laughed.
The sound surprised me.
It was the first real laugh I had made since release.
“You followed me?”
The dog moved closer.
Not all the way.
I opened the last corner of my cracker packet.
I had saved three.
I placed one on the ground.
The dog waited.
Then took it.
I gave it another.
Then another.
“There.”
“Now we’re both broke.”
The dog lay near the entrance.
I turned back to the box.
The latch would not open.
I found a stone.
Hit the rusted metal.
Once.
Twice.
On the fourth strike, it broke.
My hands shook as I lifted the lid.
Inside was oilcloth.
Several bundles.
And a metal container.
I removed the first bundle.
Papers.
Old property documents.
I could barely understand them.
Deeds.
Maps.
Tax receipts.
Then I saw my grandfather’s name.
Thomas Miller.
Below it.
A parcel description.
Almost forty acres.
The eastern ridge.
Including the hill where I was sitting.
I stared.
The cave.
The land.
It had belonged to my grandfather.
I dug deeper.
There was a handwritten note.
Rebecca.
My name.
I thought I was imagining it.
But there it was.
Written in my grandfather’s handwriting.
My hands started trembling.
I unfolded the paper.
If Rebecca is the one who finds this, then she remembered.
I covered my mouth.
He had left this for me.
Before his death.
Before prison.
Before everything.
I kept reading.
This land is not worth much to people who look only at roads and houses.
But someday it may matter.
I bought it quietly because Elvira wanted me to sell.
I refused.
I did not trust her husband with it.
