Chapter 14

Miss Georgia stared in the direction Abigail was pointing. Moonlight glinted off an object in the woods. Squinting and straining to see, Miss Georgia could make out the shape of someone else standing among the trees.

     At that moment, one of the diggers gave a muffled shout. “I’ve found it!” He dropped the shovel and fell to his knees.

     Both men frantically began digging with their hands. At last, one of them held up a large, heavy-looking bag. “You see?” he said to his friend, “I knew what I was talking about. The rock is gone, but the bank bags are still here, tucked away right beside Thurston’s grave.” He laughed, a maniacal sound in the moonlight. “Pretty appropriate, huh? Old Thurston got to take it with him after all. For a while, anyway. But now, the money is mine. All mine.”

     The second man shoved him. “Not quite. Don’t forget that half of it is mine.”

     The shadow from among the trees stepped out into the moonlight. “I beg to disagree with both of you fellows. That money belongs to the bank. Drop it, if you please.”

     Miss Georgia recognized the voice. Her heart thudded. “It’s Monroe,” she breathed. “And, he’s got a gun.”

     The two women inched closer and Miss Georgia realized the identity of one of the diggers—Smudge Littleton!

     Smudge laughed at Monroe. “Put that thing away, Monroe. Looks like it’s a war relic, like you. You couldn’t hit anything with a gun like that.”

  Monroe raised his weapon enough to point it toward Smudge’s legs. “If you don’t raise your hands, both of you, you’ll find out whether it’s a relic or not.”

     Miss Georgia heard an empty click as Monroe pulled the trigger. The two thieves rushed toward him.

     Rational thought fled and instinct took over. Miss Georgia ran from her hiding place. Grabbing the shovel, she swung it and felt it jar her arms as it bounced off the head of Smudge Littleton. At the same time, Abigail picked up a rock and threw it at the second man.

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