“Nothing, just more junk!” A disgruntled Sam wiped muddy sweat across his forehead. “We’ll never find it, Joe, never I tells ye.”
Joe inhaled deeply on his pipe. His greeny-blue eyes shifted slowly towards a small, grassy hillock at the far end of O’Malley’s field. “Ach, to be sure, it’s moved – we’ve been digging in the wrong place all along. Come on, young Sam, bring your spade.”
As the birds sang their morning songs, brothers Joe and Sam Lonnegan trudged through the long, dewy grass. That gold would be theirs, no matter how many rainbows they had to chase.