Trey looked around at his assembled family—his brothers, their wives, the next generation of Stones who had grown up hearing legends about this treasure. “What do you say?” he asked them. “Do we share the letters?”
Nash watched as nods rippled through the Stone family, Kensi wiping at her eyes before she even spoke. “Yes,” she said simply. “We’ve shared everything else.”
Porter turned to the Cross side. “Should we share the letters?”
The response was immediate and unanimous. Cheyenne nodded so hard her ponytail bounced. Colt and Chance exchanged a look that spoke of shared childhood memories. Blaze nodded.
“Let’s do it,” Nash agreed. “Let’s get reading.”
“All right then,” Porter said, his voice rough with emotion. “Trey, you go first.”
Nash moved closer to Amy, slipping his arm around her waist as Trey carefully opened the envelope. The paper inside looked old but well preserved, protected by the dry air of the silo.
Trey cleared his throat, then began to read in a voice that carried his father’s words like a prayer:“I hope this is my kids who find this. First off, you didn’t quit looking. You should have listened. Didn’t you pay attention during my lectures?”
Trey broke off, tears spilling down his cheeks. “That sounds just like him.”
The rest of the Stone family let out light laughter.
Trey cleared his throat before continuing.“Mom and I told you to. Ahhh … but we love you all. I hope you know that. I guess you know about my good friend.” Trey’s voice caught slightly, and he gestured toward Porter. “He agreed to hide it. And I told him to use some of it to help people. We worried about that. But—I guess handing it to the government felt wrong at the time, but maybe it’s right now. So, be done with this whole thing. Remember—Mom and I love you very much. But you are the real treasure. Love, Dad.”
Trey’s voice broke on the last words, and he nodded, unable to continue. “That’s it.”
Nash felt his throat tighten as he looked around the circle.
Kensi was openly weeping. “Love you, Dad and Mom.”
Sniffling echoed through the silo as the Stone family absorbed their father’s final message. Beside him, Amy wiped tears from her cheeks, and Nash realized his own eyes were burning.
Porter cleared his throat, unfolding his own letter with trembling fingers. “Okay,” he said, his voice thick. “First, it says Dad swapped out a letter every year, not knowing if it would be his last …” He paused, gathering himself.
“At this stage, Porter is gone. None of you are married. I miss your mom every day.”
Nash felt the familiar ache that always came when their father mentioned their mother. Even now, years later, the loss still cut deep.
Porter continued reading, his voice growing stronger: “Chey—you are my favorite daughter. But you all are my favorite sons.”
Despite the emotional weight of the moment, Nash couldn’t help but smile at their father’s attempt at humor. Trust Dad to try to make them laugh even from beyond the grave.
Cheyenne giggled through tears. “That’s right.”
Porter read further. “I hope you are healthy and happy. I hope you don’t let this gold go to your head … here’s an idea … leave it. But if you can’t … don’t let corruption get to you. Just give it away. That’s what I tried to do. But I fear the secret got out. May God guide and bless you. Pray about it. Love—Dad.”
The silence that followed was profound, broken only by the soft sounds of crying.
Nash looked around at the faces of his siblings, their spouses, and the Stone family, who had become so much more than allies in this treasure hunt. Everyone was crying or trying not to cry, overwhelmed by the weight of their fathers’ love and wisdom.
Their fathers had known. They’d known the danger this treasure represented, known the temptation it could bring,known that their children might one day find it despite all their warnings to stop looking. And they’d prepared for that moment with things more valuable than gold: love, guidance, and the reminder that family—the people standing in this here—was the real treasure.
Nash pulled Amy closer, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as she leaned into him. Around them, the families began to stir, processing what they’d heard, what they’d found, what their fathers had entrusted to them. The weight of the letters settled over everyone.
Nash found himself thinking about his father’s words:Give it away. Don’t let corruption get to you.
Maybe the old man had been right about more than just keeping them away from unstable ground. Maybe he’d been protecting them from something far more dangerous than gas pockets or cave-ins. Maybe he’d been protecting them from losing themselves.
Nash cleared his throat. “How about it? Should we pray?”
Porter nodded sharply, and when he spoke, his voice was still rough with emotion. “Hunter, would you say a prayer for us?”
