When Josh stepped out the car his fancy new cowboy boots crunched on gravel. He stood up carefully, stretched. yawned. Nearly 200 miles of over-night driving had left him with a crick in the neck.

He rolled his head from side to side, reached in the automobile and flipped on his stetson, tilting it back a ways to let a little sun hit his handsome face. He grinned to himself. Stepping round rear of the vehicle, he lent a hip against the back fender and, with a sigh, he rapped on the trunk.

"Still alive in there?" he growled, then chuckled. "Maybe sleepin', huh? Well, we're here, finally. Time to get up and face the day. Ya got some diggin' to do."

Josh grabbed his short shovel and pushed into the trees west of the spot where they'd parked up. The brushwood looked like it had lain undisturbed for centuries.

He glanced over his shoulder and beckoned. "You come on in here. Show me where the dang thing is at."

Drue had climbed out of the trunk and was brushing himself down and testing his knees while furtively glancing up and down the track for a way out. After spending all night locked in the trunk of a moving vehicle he wished now he'd said yes he'd come willingly so Josh hadn't needed to clock him and lock him in there.

Josh laughed. "We're in the middle of nowhere, buddy. Lonely road, no one's comin' by to save ya. May as well get this thing done."

Drue shrugged and reluctantly followed his captor into the forest. After a half hour they came upon a small clearing under a lightening wrecked tree with a suspicious heap of dirt in the centre.

"This the place?" asked Josh.

Drue looked around and nodded his head. "Could be. Yeah, this is it. I remember that crazy tree."

"OK, dig!" Josh threw him the shovel and he set away digging, muttering and grumbling all the while.

A few minutes later the shovel hit something. It was a small wood box maybe 8" by 6" by 6", old and covered with weird scratches, possibly symbols of some kind.

"Ha!" said Drue, wiping his brow with the back of his hand, relieved. "There it is. Right where I said it would be."

He passed the box up to Josh and made to step up, hoping it was just a hole he'd dug and not his own grave. But Josh was busy examining the box.

"I guess we need the key," Drue suggested, eyeing the brass lock on the side.

"We do, do we?" Josh dropped to his knees, tossed the box on the ground, picked up a big rock and slammed it down. The box's hinge snapped, its lid now askew. He carefully removed the lid. There was nothing inside but a scrap of paper and a candle, no money, no gold, jewels, nothing like that.

Drue's eyes widened, "Look, pal, I don't know where the cash went. It was locked when he gave it to me."

Josh shook his head. "Don't matter 'bout money. This is all I came for." He put the paper in the pocket of his shirt and, after a moment's hesitation, put the candle in there too.

"Come on," he said, standing up. "Let's get out of here," and he started back to the car. "Here ain't the place for this."

Drue exhaled shakily then picked up the shovel before hurrying after him.

Back at his car, "Get in," said Josh. "No, in the front dang seat, meat-head. Shotgun," and Drue obliged.

As Josh slid behind the wheel, Drue coughed, "I remembered where but not what... or why even. That's all I could recall, you know, after the, er, whatever... accident."

Josh glanced at him as he started the engine and pulled out onto the road.

"Thank God you remembered that much, bro," he snarled. "With this," he patted his breast pocket, "there's still a chance."

Drue had been living in Newville about three months. He had a comfortable room in the little hostel run by the local Reverend's wife and a regular job at the town's hardware store serving customers and sweeping up. Life was OK, or as OK as it could be for a man with no memory and no idea who he used to be.

All Drue had been told was he'd been spotted from a passing car lying beside the highway in the middle of nowhere with a gash in his head and superficial injuries. First guess was he'd been the victim of a hit-and-run driver or maybe a car-jacking. It was only when they got him to the nearest hospital did someone notice that the head-wound looked like it had been inflicted with the proverbial blunt object, not by an automobile, and any ID they would expect to find on him was gone. Alas, so was his memory.

Local and state police had no luck identifying him despite TV appeals so, after a couple weeks in hospital recovering his health, the local sheriff's office signed him off, no leads. He was free to go wherever his fancy took him. It was kind of strange to be sent out into the world with no sense of who you once were, and only a little charity cash and a temporary ID issued by the police in your pocket.

Drue had no idea where to go next so he decide to hitchhike along the road where he had been found and see if anything stood out as familiar or anybody recognised his face. Nada. Eventually he landed in Newville where the Reverend took a liking to him and his story and gave him a home. It was a chance to settle, so he took it.

All fine and dandy till the day when a cowboy-ish stranger, handsome as all get-out and didn't he know it, strode into Drue's hardware store. Drue was dealing with a customer at the time and it was only when the woman turned to leave that his eyes fell on the stranger in the gingham shirt and stetson leaning on the end of the counter.

"Can I help you?" he asked, automatically.

The guy grinned at him. "Maybe," he said, enigmatically. "But it may not be me that needs the help."

Drue was puzzled. "Come again? Having trouble finding something you need, mister?"

The cowboy stared at him for a long moment. "Had me some trouble searching, yeah. But I think I've got what I need right now."

This guy was starting to get annoying, thought Drue. Did he want to make a purchase or was he here for some other reason? Then a thought struck him.

"Do... Do I know you?" he asked, then more tentatively. "Or... do you know me?"

The guy moved along the counter to stand across from him. He fixed his eyes on Drue's and leaned closer.

"If YOU don't know ME by now..." he whispered. "Then maybe there's something we can do about that."

Now Drue might have been a new person in this unknown world but he felt he could smell a con when he met one. And he had already had one or two mischief-makers get on his case with the intent to make a joke out of his predicament. This guy looked like a joker.

"Look, buddy," he began, "I don't need any help if the help's gonna leave me out of a job. Don't need any aggravation. Just trying to get by in peace here."

The guy leaned back and stepped away from the counter. "They found you by the side of the black-top. That right?" he asked. "Beaten and bloody? No memory?"

Drue scoffed. "That was on the TV news, pal. The local paper printed a spread. Everybody knows."

"And they know that you dream, do they? Dreams about a figure in a black cloak... and a box."

Drue was taken aback by that one. How could that guy have known about the images that had lately started to haunt his sleep? He had never told anyone. He felt for the gun they kept under the counter to frighten off late-night junkies with eyes the till. The cold hilt of the pistol fell into his hand naturally.

"Better not be here to make trouble," he declared. "If you know me then speak up. Tell me everything. If not move along before I call the sheriff."

The guy laughed. "Listen. Call me Josh. That's my name. And you liked to call yourself Drue. Spelled funny too, but that's you. Need ya to come along with me so we can get this thing sorted ASAP."

Drue shook his head emphatically. "Not going anywhere till I hear some explanation." He came out from behind the counter pointing his pistol straight at the stranger's chest. The guy put his hands up and backed away toward the door.

Suddenly it swung open and an elderly man stepped in. He looked startled at the scene taking place inside and put up his hands also. The cowboy, Josh, took advantage of the moment of distraction and grabbed the gun from Drue's hand, spun him around and bopped his head against the counter-top. Drue slumped unconscious to the floor as the old guy high-tailed it back home.

A few minutes of pulling and shoving later, Josh slammed the trunk lid of his muscle car down on the bundled up Drue and jumped into the driver's seat.

"Here we go," he said, grinning. "Road trip!"

Around 20 years ago on a small Texas farm, two boys grew up together in rural bliss. Joshua and Andrew were rarely seen in the house, up at dawn to finish their chores and then, lickety-split, running across the fields to the copse down by the stream to play catch, chase bugs and swing on the old knotted rope over the babbling water.

Life couldn't have been better and was always full of adventure. One such adventure started slowly. They couldn't have had idea one where it would eventually lead them.

It was pretty nice spring morning despite the wind-storm they had had the night before. Mom had warned them to look out for falling branches as they scurried off for a kick-about on the level ground beside the stream.

When they got down there they found the gale had shaken the old trees and one big, very ancient and part dead trunk was propped up against its neighbour, roots partially unearthed leaving a big hollow in the dirt.

"Looky here," exclaimed Joshua. "Looks like the entrance to secret lair, don't it?"

"They call that a tree throw," responded Andrew, always eager to show off his book-read knowledge. "They reckon cavemen used to live in them sometimes."

"Cavemen lived in caves," scoffed his brother, already half-way into the hole. "Well, there ain't one in here now." he laughed. "But we could make something out of this thing. A den maybe?"

Andrew was dubious. "I don't think Mom-"

Joshua cut him off with a yelp. "There's something down here," he said. "Roots have grown around it but it looks like some kinda package wrapped in burlap. I think I can get it."

Joshua pulled his penknife from his pants pocket and began to hack at the old roots. He was making Andrew nervous.

"Josh, don't fool around with that. You hurt yourself Mom'll get so mad."

"Hell Andy, you can be such a wuss sometimes," his brother chuckled, pulling the mysterious package free. "What Mom doesn't know won't kill her."

Joshua popped the burlapped object on the edge of the tree hole and clambered out. Andrew toed the thing with his sneaker. "Whaddya suppose it is, huh?"

"Soon find out." Joshua sat on the ground cross-legged and pulled the thing onto his lap to hack at the roughly stitched sack-cloth with his knife. Five seconds later it was open.

"So what is it then?" asked Andrew again, still mystified.

Joshua held the 4-inch opalescent sphere up to the sun by the silvery metallic mounting that encased it. The sunlight seemed to make it glow inside with a golden, swirling iridescence.

"Dunno that the heck it is but it's sure pretty. Mom's gonna like it. Maybe she'll know what it's for."

So the boys set off back to the house to consult their oracle.

Unfortunately Mom had no more idea what it was than they did. But she certainly didn't want the filthy object occupying the kitchen table while they ate their lunch.

"Take that thing out in the yard and hose it off, if you want to keep it, Josh. It doesn't belong on my tablecloth. Andy, you help me make the sandwiches. I got tomato soup on the hob."

Joshua took their new treasure outside and washed it off. "Looks even better without the dirt," he said as he showed it to a passing chicken. The bird startled and flapped away to eye him from the top on the kindling stack. "Don't like it, huh?" he chuckled. "Guess maybe it's some kinda bird-scarer."

Oddly all the poultry in the yard now seemed to be keeping their distance.

Andrew leaned out the door. "Mom says come-" He was pre-empted by Joshua dashing in the house and he was already seated spooning in soup as his brother turned around. The glowing ball lay at his feet, momentarily forgotten.

Mom brought a tray of toasted cheese sandwiches to the table and motioned for Andrew to sit. "Your soup'll get cold, Andy. Eat up, there's a good boy."

Joshua smirked at him over his soup bowl. "Yeah, Andy," he said. "Be a good boy. Eat your soup," and Mom cuffed him lightly on the head.

The globe lay almost unnoticed on the shelf by the door where they kept their boots for the rest of the summer. A few of Mom's neighbours took a look at it when they came over for tea and a chat but still no one had any idea what it was.

Then, one wet day in September, there was an ominous knock at the front door. Mom opened up to find two older men dressed all in black standing right there. She guessed they were collecting for some charity. They had a solemn look about them.

"Oh," she said. "I'll, uh, just get my purse."

"No need." The taller one stopped her. "We're not here for money, ma'am. We heard in town that someone had found an antiquity on your property. We're interested in buying it from you for our... for our museum collection. Local handicrafts are our specialism."

Mom got suddenly interested. "Wait there a moment while I go get it," and she popped into the kitchen to grab the shiny object off of the rack. She returned polishing it on a cloth. "Here it is. What, er, what would you say it's worth exactly?"

The tall man took it from her hands and examined it thoroughly then nodded to his companion.

"Not much I'm afraid," said the shorter man. "However, an early American home-made piece like this one would make a fine exhibit for our little enterprise. We could probably offer you, say twenty dollars?"

Mom was delighted and she was just about to say yes when her two sons popped up by her elbows.

"You're not gonna sell it, are you Mom?" whined Andrew.

"He was keeping it for a Show and Tell at school next week," chimed in Joshua. "And I was gonna get Mr. Troy, our history teacher, to take a look-see."

This was the first Mom had heard of it. She took the boys aside.

"Look, Mom," whispered Joshua, "If these guys are willing to pay $20 for it this thing has got to be worth a lot more."

"Yeah," agreed Andrew. "No one pays top dollar on the doorstep."

Mom considered a moment than grabbed the orb back from the short guy's hands.

"I'll think about it," she said, and closed the door abruptly.

"It better be worth more than $20," she told the boys, "or it's coming out of your allowances."

They never did get to find out what the object was really worth though, because the very next day came a tragedy that changed all their lives for good.

Joshua vanished!