Newsletter of Action, Fantasy and Adventure!

continuation of Bushranger's Treasure:

Sunday Lunch at Gold Coast

The Uber stopped outside her parents’ place, the Gold Coast heat shimmering off the driveway. Shadow bolted out the door with an excited bark, greeting her with slobbery kisses. Laughing, Michelle gave him a good pat and stepped inside, still tasting the Scotch‑and‑Coke she’d had to steady her nerves on the flight. The house smelled delicious of Mum’s cooking.

“Hi,” she called. “I’m home…”

“There she is!” Steve Cruise walked in from the verandah. His steel‑grey eyes swept over her. “You’re late.”

“Blame the school holidays,” she said. “Couldn’t book an earlier flight.”

“Tell me about it,” he muttered, running a hand through his silver‑white hair. “We’re on alert.”

“Hello, sweetheart.” Helene appeared from the kitchen, warm and brisk, searching Michelle’s face with the same violet‑blue eyes she’d passed on to her daughter. “You look tired.”

“I’m fine,” Michelle said, giving her a hug and a kiss. “Good to see you both.”

“How’s the world?” Professor Adler called from the verandah. He was already at the table, his lower lip protruding from the neatly trimmed beard, a habit that made him look permanently unimpressed.

Michelle crossed to him, giving him a quick smile and a peck on the cheek. “Hello, Uncle Reg. Glad you’re here.”

“Well,” he said, “your father promised me some decent wine. Besides your visit, of course.”

“Excellent wine,” Steve corrected, setting the roast down.

Helene brought the dish with potatoes and veggies, and shot Michelle a look. “Your father’s on duty today.” She swatted him with a tea towel. “Start carving, Chief.”

Steve obliged with a sigh. “Couldn’t change it just because my daughter’s visiting.”

“Gee,” Michelle said, sliding into her seat, “and here I thought you’d stop the world for me.”

“I would,” he said. “But first, must stop the crime.”

Helene snorted. “The never-ending story.”

Reg tilted his head. “So, Michelle… your last episode. Jesus Christ’s lost years in India? Quite the topic.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Did you clear that Buddhist monk’s claim?”

Michelle chuckled. “I thought you watched my show.”

“I tried,” Steve said. “Then some kids stole a jet ski.”

Helene shook her head. “Honestly, people should commit crimes at reasonable hours.”

They all laughed.

It felt good.

Normal.

Safe.

“I want your opinion on something.” Michelle produced the envelope.

Three heads turned.

She placed the photograph on the table.

Reg leaned in first. His fork froze mid‑air.

Steve’s steel‑gray eyes narrowed.

Helene frowned. “What is it?”

“It was waiting for me in my dressing room before the show,” Michelle said.

Reg adjusted his glasses, his gaze sharpening. “Good heavens… I haven’t seen this symbol in decades.”

“You recognize it?” Michelle asked.

“He should,” Steve quipped. “He’s a history professor; he teaches this stuff.”

“Of course I recognize it,” Reg said. “It’s tied to the old bushranger stories along the Nerang River. A compass rose with the north point slashed. Supposedly a marker for his last stash.”

Steve snorted. “Treasure map, if you believe the legends.”

Reg’s chin lifted slightly — the warning sign he was about to lecture. “Legends often start with a grain of truth.”

... to be continued...

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Thank you for joining me on this journey through Legends & Lore. Share this newsletter with a friend who loves fantasy books, and stay tuned — next time, I’ll reveal a glimpse of Enigma: The Alchemist’s Legacy.

— Vera Kasal