Zach had indeed made bacon in the kitchen, along with toast and a whole box of pop tarts. As Seth walked in, Zach tossed him one, and Seth caught it, taking a bite.

When Zach saw Jules, he raised his eyebrows a little, but didn’t say anything.

Yes, we did it, and no, you don’t need to comment, Seth thought, frowning.

“You like blueberry pop tarts?” Zach asked her.

“Sure,” Jules said, and caught one as it flew through the air.

Her catch seemed to please Zach.

Seth walked to the coffee maker. The pot was full.

“Is this from yesterday?” he asked.

“Nope. I made another pot maybe ten minutes ago,” said Zach.

I thought he was a little too awake, thought Seth. He poured two cups, then handed one to Jules.

“So I was thinking,” said Zach. He took the bacon out of the pan and put it on a plate, then carried the plate to the kitchen table, putting it down next to a half-empty box of pop tarts.

I can’t believe I’m serving this breakfast to a girl, Seth thought.

“Do you remember those stories mom used to tell us about Grampa Otis’s treasure?” asked Zach.

Seth thought, furrowing his brow, and took a piece of bacon.

“Barely,” he said. “He had a stash of gold or something, somewhere that no one could ever find it?”

“Right,” said Zach, taking a piece of bacon himself. “In the story, it was worth more than all the gold and jewels in the world, and the thing he always told people was ‘you can always see it’ or some poetic version of that, right?”

“Oh, I hated that story,” said Seth. “Mom always said the treasure turned out to be love or something, which was a terrible way to end a fun story.”

“It was her favorite, though. She told it to me all the time, like she was really into this treasure. Or,” Zach said, pointing his bacon at Seth, “Like she was trying to tell me something.”

Seth narrowed his eyes, trying to remember his mom’s story. They all mingled together, to be honest, and he’d liked the ones more about the things his ancestors had seen and done, flying over the desert.

Besides, as the oldest, by the time he’d been old enough to really listen to stories, there had also been Garrett and then Zach, so his mom hadn’t had as much time to sit with him, spinning tales. But since Zach had been the youngest, he’d been the recipient of more flights of fancy.

“She also used to tell us how Grampa Otis was always bringing her and her sisters stuff from the mesa when she was really little. I think he died when she was four or something, but she said she saw him up there once, just walking around. She swears it was him.”

“There’s that goat path that goes to the top,” Seth offered. “Right?”

Zach shook his head. “That crumbled,” he said. “But anyway. What if we’re looking in the wrong place? What if there’s a stash somewhere on the mesa itself, what if that’s where they put stuff they never wanted to lose?”

Suddenly, Seth felt a tingle in the base of his spine. Without answering his brother, he took another bite of bacon, then looked out the kitchen window at the mesa.

“Do we have binoculars?” he asked.

“I’ve got some in the truck,” Jules said. “You want them?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” he said, his eyes searching the big red cliff.

Minutes later, the bacon was getting cold on the table as the three of them stood out in the back yard, Seth searching the mesa with the binoculars, the tingling only intensifying.

This is it, he thought. It’s up there. I don’t know how I know, but I’m sure.

“I can’t see it from here,” he said. “But there’s plenty of places to put something. Eagle nests, ledges, little pockets, all that.”

He felt like the mesa was singing to him, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away, even as he handed his brother the binoculars.

“I’ll climb up there,” he offered.

“You can’t get up there,” said Zach. “The trail fell off.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” said Zach. “You don’t remember that landslide when we were kids?”

Seth just shrugged. Right now, landslides didn’t matter. He’d find a way around it. The sandstone had plenty of hand and foot holds. What mattered was getting up there, the details of how weren’t important.

“Is there somewhere we can rent a helicopter or something?” Jules asked.

Both the brothers looked at her.

“I’m just spitballing, okay?” she said, a little defensively.

“Sorry,” said Seth. “Do we have climbing equipment?”

Equipment would be nice, but it wasn’t necessary. He was trying it either way.

Zach shook his head.

“No,” he said. “Look, it was a dumb idea. We’ve got no way to get up there, and besides, that thing is huge. Unless there’s a giant red arrow pointing at a spot, I think we’re better off going through all the papers one more time. I can go up to Blanding and use the school library to maybe go through the Salt Lake Tribune archives or something?”

It’s not in the archives. You can’t find it by research, thought Seth. It’s up there. I know it.

He took a deep breath and nodded, acting like he agreed with his little brother. He had a plan, and it didn’t involve arguing with Zach or even Jules about whether he should try to climb the mesa.

“I can keep going through the attic,” Jules offered, as the three of them walked back inside. “We should probably split up tasks, get things done faster.”

They entered the kitchen, but Seth continued down the hall, nerves tingling.

“I gotta use the bathroom,” he said. “One minute.”

Jules and Zach just nodded, still talking about archive searches.

Seth opened and shut the bathroom door, then sneaked to the front door. He put on his boots, then opened the door very, very quietly, and stepped out.

He moved around the house as sneakily as he could, keeping close to the building, ducking underneath the kitchen windows where he could still hear Zach and Jules discussing what sort of database might contain a deed from the 1870s.

I’m glad they’re getting along, Seth thought, pausing for a moment under the window. I don’t know what I’d do if they didn’t.

Then he started running toward the mesa. It was at least a mile away, but he was in good shape, even if he was wearing jeans. The dusty air felt like it stuck in his throat and sweat poured down his back, but he didn’t care.

He had to get there. He had to.

Seth turned slightly, aiming for the corner where he remembered the path being. Actually, “path” was a generous word — it was barely a way up, sometimes used by mountain goats to get to the top of the mesa, which sometimes had more grass for them to eat. When they were kids, he and his brothers had dared each other to climb as high as they could on it, though none of them ever got all that far.

His heart beating almost out of his chest, Seth stepped on the path with one foot, then the other. He steadied himself against the rock wall with one hand, concentrating completely on staying upright and not falling.

Left foot, right foot, left foot, don’t fall, Seth thought.

It was slow and terrifying, but Seth gradually made his way up the mesa.