The limestone outcrop matched the general direction recorded in the old documents. The drainage cut also aligned closely with Everett’s reconstruction.
But the old cottonwood presented a problem.
Its trunk had split years earlier, and a newer tree had grown from the same root system. The original position was difficult to establish.
Leonard crouched beside the exposed roots.
“Your grandfather’s measurement starts from the center of the trunk?”
Everett opened the notebook.
“It says ‘west face of the old cottonwood.’”
“That helps.”
Martin set a marker on the ground.
Leonard took a reading, checked it against his instrument, and wrote something in his field book.
They continued south.
The creek narrowed where the bank rose into a grassy shelf. Everett’s willows stood in a neat line behind them, their young leaves trembling in the breeze.
Leonard stopped near a patch of sedges.
“This is close to the location in the notes.”
Everett felt his breath catch.
“Can you find it?”
“Not by looking.”
Martin switched on the metal detector.
They searched in overlapping passes, moving slowly through the grass and damp soil.
The detector clicked repeatedly near an old fence wire, then fell silent.
They moved farther down the slope.
Another signal came near a half-buried rock.
Martin brushed aside the leaves and tested the ground again.
A sharp tone sounded.
Leonard knelt.
“Don’t dig yet.”
He marked the spot with a small flag and checked the deed measurements once more.
Then he looked at Everett.
“This could be something. It could also be scrap iron.”
Everett nodded, though his heart was pounding.
Martin used a small hand trowel to clear the surface carefully.
A rusted fragment appeared.
Then another.
They worked slowly, removing soil in thin layers.
At last, the edge of a narrow iron shaft emerged from the earth.
Leonard leaned closer.
“Stop there.”
Martin set down the trowel.
The object was nearly vertical, its upper end hidden beneath compacted soil. A broad, corroded plate seemed to extend from its base.
Leonard examined the exposed metal without touching it.
“Could be an old survey monument.”
Rachel covered her mouth.
Everett stared at the small dark shape.
For years, people had crossed the creek, mended fences, driven cattle, and argued about pasture boundaries without knowing it was there.
His grandfather had written about it.
The deed had described it.
And now, after decades underground, it had surfaced beneath the grass.
Leonard did not celebrate.
He photographed the exposed portion, recorded the location, and made several measurements from known reference points.
“We’ll need to document this properly,” he said. “I don’t want it disturbed until we confirm what it is.”
Everett crouched beside him.
“Is it the marker?”
Leonard looked at the old iron.
“It may be.”
He paused.