Hidden Gold – Lost Treasure in the Flint Hills
that she, of all people, had taken part in it. Only those directly involved in this experimental graduate course at ESU could even begin to comprehend what had happened during this past spring semester. Beth was one of those students, and recollections of her performance in that unique study flooded her memory. Beth’s undergraduate degree represented a double major in Music and English, specializing in the etymology of language. In her graduate program, she majored in music education. Sometimes her attention to detail made it appear as if a frown were frozen on her mouth. The strict regimen of student life transformed her into an ascetic who fastidiously devoted all her time and energy to gain graduate-level perfection on the piano. She superbly graced the music of Bach, Beethoven and Brahms, but quietly hoped to earn a doctorate in music education so she could teach on a university level. Like many native Emporians, she descended from sturdy Welsh stock. A great grandfather had emigrated from Pontypool in southeastern Wales during the early 1840s. Every year, on St. David’s Day, March 1, Beth wears a red and green badge which shows a red dragon and the words, “I’m proud to be Welsh.” Maybe at this time, one day before graduation, she could clear her mind of all the conflicting elements of the Fagans Mound affair. She had begun to regard herself as a special person with an amazing story to tell. As she ran steadily along dirt and gravel roads toward the area southwest of Emporia, she imagined that she passed a number of horsedrawn wagons. Perhaps she might wave to them, or call out to the women who drove the wagon loads of supplies, or run up to the men who rode shotgun on their horses to the front and rear of the wagons. 2