Amy’s heart raced as Porter and Colt disappeared into the dark opening below. Everyone stood in a tight circle around the hatch, barely breathing as they waited.
Nash’s hand was warm in hers. After everything they’d been through, they were finally here—at the moment that would either vindicate years of treasure hunting or leave them with nothing but questions.
“You guys have to come down here,” Porter’s voice echoed up from below.
“What is it?” Sadie called down.
“Just come down.” Colt’s voice joined his brother’s. “All of you. Now.”
Amy felt Nash’s grip tighten on her hand as Trey immediately took charge, telling them who would go down next. One by one, they climbed down the metal ladder.
The air below was cool and dry, carrying the scent of earth and metal and something else—something that made Amy’s academic heart race with anticipation. As her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting from their collective flashlights, she could make out a large space with concrete walls and what looked like careful organization rather than military abandonment.
Porter and Colt stood in the center of the chamber. Behind them, partially hidden by shadows, was a large shape covered by a heavy tarp.
“Look,” Porter said simply, pointing to the covered mound.
As everyone gathered around, Amy spotted them—two letters resting on top of the tarp, their white envelopes stark against the dark fabric. Even in the dim light, she could see names written in different handwriting across the fronts.
Porter reached for one envelope while Trey moved toward the other, both men handling the letters with the reverence reserved for sacred things.
“From Dad,” Porter said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. The envelope was marked “Cross Family.”
“From our father too,” Trey confirmed, holding up the envelope marked “Stone Family.”
The two men looked at each other across the covered treasure, a moment of understanding passing between them. Whatever lay beneath that tarp had been protected by both their families, and it was about to be uncovered.
“Together?” Porter asked.
Trey nodded. “Together.”
They moved to opposite corners of the tarp, and Amy held her breath as they began to pull the heavy fabric away. Dust motes danced in their flashlight beams as the covering fell aside, revealing what lay beneath.
Amy’s gasp mingled with the group intake of breath.
Gold bars. Dozens of them, maybe hundreds, stacked in neat rows that caught and reflected their lights. Each bar bore the unmistakable palm leaf inscription they’d been tracking across two states and endless years of searching.
Cries and laughter echoed through the family.
“Holy smokes,” Nash breathed beside her, his voice filled with disbelief and joy. “It’s here. It’s actually here.”
Amy turned to him, laughter bubbling up from somewhere deep in her chest—not the hysterical laughter of shock, but the pure joy of discovery, of questions finally answered, of a mystery that had cost so much. “It’s here and it’s real,” she said, throwing her arms around Nash’s neck as her own laughter mixed with his.
Nash spun her around in the small space, both of them giddy with relief and triumph. Around them, she could hear similar exclamations from the families—Cheyenne’s delighted squeal, Colt’s amazed whistle, the soft sounds of the women crying happy tears.
The gold was real. The treasure was found. But looking at Nash’s beaming face, Amy knew she’d already discovered something far more valuable than any amount of conquistador gold.
She’d found her family. She’d found her home. She’d found herself again.
And most importantly, she’d found love that was worth more than any treasure in the world.
CHAPTER 30
Nash felt like he was standing in a church rather than an underground missile silo. The weight of discovery suddenly seemed to press down on all of them—not just the gold, but the knowledge that their fathers had carried this secret together, had trusted each other with something that could have destroyed or saved them.
Porter held his father’s letter with the same careful reverence Nash had seen him use when handling newborn calves. Across the small space, Trey gripped the Stone family letter with white knuckles, his military composure cracked by whatever emotions were warring in his chest.
“Do you want to read the letters together or go up and read them with separate families?” Porter asked, his ranch-boss voice gentler than Nash had heard it in years.
