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“Well, this was altogether unexpected!” Richard remarked as he skipped over the last step descending from their beautiful childhood home down to one of Baltimore’s well-trodden streets.

His brother, Clayton, was dismissing the others as they departed. He was ready to head home himself. Just getting to the station would take the better half of an hour on that ornery mule of a rented horse. Clayton let out an involuntary sigh as he swung his mopey gaze from the crowded sidewalks along the dusty avenue back over to his younger brother. The cheery dope marched over to Clayton smiling like an idiot and planting himself substantially closer than his elder deemed tolerable.

“What was unexpected?” Clayton asked using manufactured irritation to mask his distress. He was able to control his eyes and his tone, but a slight squawk in his voice betrayed the secret war inside. He hadn’t let a tear escape since the funeral, and well… a fortified man like himself couldn’t lose that battle twice in the same week. Richard was exactly the opposite kind of fellow. He could laugh and cry in the same sentence, and he often did! “This… THIS was unexpected!” he nearly shouted thrusting the little black book forward against his brother’s midsection.

The elder brother stepped back to escape Richard’s overwhelming presence. He leaned against a coarse, pine-wood sign which read: ‘ESTATE SALE June 10th. Proceeds donated to the Cranston Home for Boys by John Clayton Briggs 1801-1866.’

John Briggs was their father. Richard had finally detected Clayton’s somber expression. He too was now tasked with fighting back an emotional whirlwind. He’d always found other people’s feelings to be so contagious. They both paused briefly to reconquer their mood. They wanted to be strong like their father. In some ways, they were quite like him. John Briggs was the rare combination of a practical businessman and a zealous crusader against societal injustice. At more than 60 years of age he left his self-made business empire and wealth to fight in the recent Civil War. While away, he left his businesses to his two young sons.

Today was their father’s will-reading. It was at this reading, hosted in their old home, that they came to inherit this pocket-sized, leather booklet. Before he died, their father had already turned his shipping companies in Boston over to Clayton. His leather factory and shoe shops in Baltimore fell to Richard. Now his two heirs would have to face the challenge they were only recently relieved from- living up to their absent father’s expectations. This time, it was permanent. He was gone, though two shadows of him remained.

They both mirrored their father’s appearance despite neither of them being his son by birth. They bore the same posture. They wore long, matching, overcoats of their father’s own design. Their jackets compromised between the style of the more modest sack-coat with the older, finer look of the tail-coat. Their trousers and hats also matched. Their boots were similar as well as both pairs came from their father’s factory. The high leather shoes exemplified the same mingling of old and young taste as the rest of their attire. The two gentlemen had much in common. Even their voices were indistinguishable. Aside from opposite personalities, one additional feature separated them and quite an obvious feature at that. Clayton was as white as the ghost of a frost-slain albino, and Richard was two shades darker than his bull-leather belt!

Clayton was an abandoned toddler rescued by the local preacher. Richard was the orphaned, freeborn son of one of the very few black plantation owners. His mother and father were also freeborn. They owned a respectably large farm near Charleston. When his parents ‘turned up missing’ their land was quickly re-acquired by the local bank. Richard was sent north to the Cranston Home for Boys. This is where they met, and were later adopted by their late step-father. John had no family other than these two. That’s why he left instruction for his possessions to be donated to the orphanage and similar establishments. Giving was human nature to him. He felt he’d been given far more than those around him.

He survived the war, but with lagging injuries. He never fully recovered, so his passing was no surprise. He told his two sons that they would receive no inheritance from him other than the businesses they already managed, and the house that they grew up in. Even the items in the house were to be auctioned off! That is why Richard was surprised. That was what made this mysterious book so exciting! They weren’t supposed to be receiving anything today, and yet, they did!

“Did you open it?” Clayton asked.

“No. No, of course I didn’t…” Richard responded, “…I wanted to open it together.”

Clayton was more annoyed than intrigued. “Oh, stop your nonsense. It’s just a diary or ledger or something. Keep your hat on.” he ordered as he snatched and opened the book.

Clayton skimmed the first few hand written lines. Richard peeked his nose over the top of the diary which Clayton promptly tipped back. “Oh please. You can hardly read, you oughtn’t even attempt it upside down.” he jested. His voice calmed from a harsh retort to a playful taunt.

“What’s it say? What is it? What’s it say?” Richard pestered.

“Asking me the same question repeatedly won’t get you the answer,” said Clayton. He turned away from his brother as if to ward off Richard’s further investigation into the mystery. “Hmff. Interesting.” Clayton snorted handing Richard the book. “Here. Read it.”

Richard read the first page aloud.

“To my dear boys Clay and Rich,

I’ve always tried to equip you in such a way that in my absence, you could continue to excel. That is why instead of giving you money upon my passing, I labored to teach you business and ethics. You have in your possession all the tools needed to double your revenue year after year. I hope you will continue to have good and honest hearts. That’s all you need.

I meant what I said about my money and so forth being donated. However, I have the right to change my mind, and I’ve done just that. In the following pages you will find the location of my most beloved possessions and my personal investment into your future endeavors… twenty-thousand dollars.”

Richard finished reading and glanced at his brother. Clayton stood with arms crossed indicating his usual, cynical disbelief. “He’s toying with us again.” Clayton stated.

“Why would you say that?” asked Richard clearly offended by Clayton’s charge.

“Because that’s what he does. He likes to play games with… to… to teach us his silly little lessons.” Clayton defended.

“Why?” Richard insisted. “Why would he do that? He’s not here. And what do you mean ‘silly’?” he continued, “… his ‘silly’ lessons have made our family rich!”

“Simmer down Rich.” Clayton said, “I’m just trying to keep you from gettin too excited about an imaginary fortune. Our father always reinvested his capital into the next ‘big deal.’ Right? So, he never in his life had 20,000 stockpiled somewhere.”

“You make a good point, but he would never lie to us.” Richard replied.

“I’m not saying he’s lying to us. I’m just warning you not to be surprised when this turns out to mean something you didn’t expect. Anyhow, let’s just get on with it. What’s it say next?”

The next page read:

“Game Rules”

1. The next seven pages contain seven riddles. You must each try to solve said riddles.

2. No squabbling.

3. Finders Keepers.

Richard read the first riddle:

“Don’t ever fib, no never lie,

You can’t fool me, don’t even try.

If you find a naughty cricket,

Best release her in the thicket.”

“Aside from our father’s lack of poetic skill, what do you make of it?” Clayton asked.

“Truth be told, I know what it is. I might even know where it’s at!” his brother responded excitedly.

“Well, I’m just interested in getting this over with. So, where are we going?” Clayton asked.

“Upstairs!” Richard rushed inside and up the winding staircase. Clayton followed along reluctantly. Richard hustled into a spare room, from which he promptly returned producing the willow beam they used for cricket games as children. “You see!” He said, “A naughty cricket!”

“I don’t understand.” Clayton responded plainly.

“You see…” said Richard laughing, “… I broke a window with this bat. I told father it was your cat Plumpy, but he wouldn’t believe me.”

“That’s because it’s a ridiculous story!” laughed Clayton, “And one I don’t remember really. You sent a ball through the window?”

“No,” said Richard, “I threw the bat through the window.”

“How does that happen?” Clayton asked.

“Oh never mind.” Richard said, “the point is, this is the solution to the first riddle.”

“I’m not sure how this qualifies as any sort of valuable. It certainly isn’t 20,000 dollars.” Clayton whined. The two young men discussed it and came to the same conclusion. This bat must simply be a piece of the puzzle. They needed to solve the remaining riddles. Riddles 2-6 led them to a hunting rifle, some clothes, a horrid painting by a young Clayton, a Bible, and Richard’s violin.

“I don’t understand.” said Richard looking it over.

“I understand.” Clayton claimed, “this is all a clever prank. We fell for it, like we always do.”

“No. No, let’s solve the last one. Then it will all make sense!” Richard protested. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince himself or Clayton.

“Very well.” Clayton huffed. “Let’s hear it.”

The last riddle read.

“I’m sure by now you understand,

Timeless truths they never age,

I’ve placed the answers in your hand,

You simply need to turn the page.”

“I get it.” Clayton said with a smirk. “Look here,” he said pointing to the items they’d rounded up. “These are our coats from Cranston. We wore these when he met us. These ‘treasures’ of his are treasure because of their sentimental value! Ha! Well… I’ve actually enjoyed this little game, but I know how it ends.” Clayton turned the page as he spoke.

The following pages were filled with bits of advice their father had written down for them. The very first one, which they’d heard before, was suddenly painfully relevant.

“If a man can learn to double twenty dollars each year, within ten years he’ll have twenty-thousand.”

This little proverb was just a mathematical observation, but now it made more sense than ever. The riddle said, “I’ve placed the answers in your hands.” This was exactly like their father. Now, after his death, he taught them the same lesson he’d been preaching to them their whole life. The ability to love and the ability to be productive were both far more valuable than wealth itself.

They were both humored by the treasure hunt. Clayton slipped a couple of the ‘treasures’ under his arm and headed to the door.

“Wait!” called Richard, “Do you want the book?”

Clayton halted in the doorway. “No,” he said with a wink, “You need these ‘lessons’ more than I do. We can review Pap’s proverbs next time you drop by.” Clayton still had the book in his pocket. He tossed it toward Richard who missed the catch. The book flopped down several steps before landing open and facedown.

Clayton laughed at Richard’s clumsiness and stepped out into the night swinging the door closed behind him.

Richard picked up the book. Several odd notes fell to the floor. He scooped one up. He couldn’t believe what he saw. He held the seldom seen 1861 $5,000 bill! There were four of them in all! He hopped down the stairs and grabbed the door handle. Then… he hesitated… Richard smiled mischievously as he pondered whether he should call Clayton, or obey rule number 3 from that little black book.