Papa and I used to sneak up on the Indians and the beavers ‘down in the field’. Problem was the overgrown chihuahua that was my sidekick since the day she walked up in the yard, made it impossible to sneak up on anything. That didn’t stop us from trying day in and day out.

My papa told me how this one Indian was all that was left. And he didn’t get left behind, he chose to stay behind and protect our land. I understood the comfort in that, but I always asked why he would protect our land when he was on it first.

That was when the conversation turned to the beavers. Unlike the lonely Indian that I tried so hard to see – standing on the edge of the swamp – I knew those beavers were within reach. I fished on their banks, I stared down at the chewed trees, I heard the splash into the water as my chihuahua ran before me.

Once, I caught a glimpse of the beaver. I thought I saw two. Papa would laugh and seem just as excited. His excitement would diminish when he realized no fish were left to be caught because of those no-good beavers.

Our favorite third topic were cousins who, as legend would have it, robbed a train and stole the gold. It was buried on our land and we were going to find it. The best invention at the time was the metal detector, so we walked those fields in search of the gold. I imagined all sorts of ways we would discover the gold. Beneath the big pecan trees by the old well. Under the half-fallen wooden house where the horses were fed. Surely it was in the tobacco barn. I wanted it to be in a brown paper sack in a wooden box.

Years later, after my papa had left this earth, my father took up a renewed interest in finding the gold. We invested in a brand new metal detector and one evening before dusk, I set out alone to find the gold. To my surprise, the buzzing went off and I began to dig. Sandy dirt digging, on my knees and with my hands, fast and feverish. As I pulled a rusty, red-brown scrap of metal out of the ground, most likely from farm equipment long-gone, I looked up and realized within an instant, it was pitch black dark. The kind of dark where you don’t even see your body parts in front of you.

A chill went down my spine. I didn’t move, a bit too scared to stand up and start walking. I knew the walk would turn into a full-out sprint with a pounding heartbeat so whatever loomed behind me couldn’t catch me.

Then I felt something different than the chill. The Indian’s cautious gaze on my back; my obtuse chihuahua waiting for my reaction to define hers; and my papa looking down on me knowing that I would always believe his stories.

I still do.