Every time I sit to write I get sidetracked, this chapter it was researching my newly discovered obsession-- steampunk. So fun, and W13 has a lot of steampunk elements to it, like Artie's typewriter compy. Neat.

So, This story is actually somewhat factual (except for the magic part), if you trust Wikipedia. I love history and think this is really cool, so if I lose you in all this exposition I apologize… I'm trying to sneak some 'undercover' fluff in the cracks!

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"This story begins with the man who founded old Singapore. A greedy but charming man, who this very Bed and Breakfast is named for: Oshea Wilder."

Pete and Myka shared a glance, and for the first time, a vibe. They both knew some crucial information was coming their way.

Bill began the story with a practiced air, and Myka knew this story was a beloved one, told often and enthusiastically. "In 1836 Wilder came out from New York, and was hoping to build a port town to rival Chicago and Milwaukee. At its height, the town of Singapore boasted three saw mills, two hotels, several general stores, and was home to Michigan's first schoolhouse, but the town's most famous boon was the Singapore Company Bank."

"The state had passed a law that permitted any ten or more major landowners of any county to organize themselves into a banking corporation. These banks, like many of their day, would be allowed to print and issue their own paper money, but of course no bank could operate until they had at least 30% of their capital in gold and silver, or 'hard money', to back up the paper money they issued."

"However, as luck would have it for Mr. Wilder and his colleagues; the Financial Panic of 1837 started. The subsequent run on east coast banks caused the state to suspend the hard money requirement because they feared the banks of Michigan might be flooded with now worthless paper money from the banks back east. The loophole here, was that the lawmakers left the general banking laws alone, so new banks could continue to be organized and allowed to start the business of issuing bills in Michigan even while they had no proof of hard money to back them up."

Myka was interested. "So Mr. Wilder started a bank with no money?"

"Well now, they had to have some. They just didn't have as much as they should have had. Nowadays we call them 'Wildcat' banks because they were so hard to find in the woods of Michigan. One story, passed down by my grandfather's father, alleged that there was a bank located in a hollowed out tree stump!"

Pete looked confused and took Myka's hand in his own while asking: "I'm not sure I follow you here Bill; why would they want the bank hard to find?"

Myka turned to Bill and asked to field this particular inquiry. The older gentleman acceded with a smile, glad that this pretty guest was so interested.

She looked, slightly surprised, down at their joined hands for a second, and then into Pete's eyes. "If the main office for the bank that redeemed its paper money for hard money was located in some far off or inaccessible place, the paper money could be circulated into the far reaches of the country and be very unlikely to get back to the bank to be redeemed for real money."

Pete understood. "Oh, so it was like a con or a fraud. Once the money was out there, there was no one to back it up, but there was also no one to disprove its value. Got it."

Bill grinned. "Exactly. There should have been $15,000 of hard money on reserve. All surviving records indicate that this was not likely." He leaned in, lowering his voice. "Now here is where the legend of the old bank comes in."

Pete and Myka mirrored his movements, eager for any information remotely indicative of an artifact.

"Later that year, the state realized its mistake and then required a bank inspection every three months to make sure each bank had enough gold. Not discouraged by this challenge our shrewd Mr. Wilder formed a symbiotic relationship with the Bank in Allegan, a town about 25 miles down the Kalmazoo River. The two banks would pool their gold when it came time for the inspection, and after it was counted in Allegan's bank they would move it to Singapore where the inspector would count it the next day as the Singapore bank's."

Pete gave Myka's hand a squeeze and they shared a smiled at the poor unsuspecting Bank Inspector's ignorance. He began unconsciously rubbing small gentle circles on the back of her hand as their host continued.

"This worked just fine for a while, until one day the canoe carrying the gold, paddled by a local Ottowa Indian, Maksaube, was just upstream from Saugatuck when it hit an obstacle in the river and capsized. The bags of gold sank to the bottom in a particularly deep part of the river. Maksaube rushed ahead to Singapore and told his story. While James Harris, the village blacksmith, devised a drag hook to get the gold from the bottom of the river, word was sent back to a nearby village, Richmond, to intercept the inspector and keep him occupied. The men recovered the gold in time, but the close call had caused Oshea to apparently reconsider his method of moving the gold from bank to bank."

Bill stood suddenly, saying he had "forgotten the best part": his authentic Oshea Wilder letter, and would go get it from the wall of their room if they "would be so kind as to wait" a minute for him to return. Myka smiled genuinely and, thankful for this momentary reprieve, said "Of course!"

She waited the seven seconds it took for Bill to be out of the room and out of earshot before yanking her hand from Pete's grasp.

"Pete! Would you, for the sake of my sanity, please tone it down-- even a little? I'm trying to pay attention here."

He grinned at her flustered state. "I'm just making it seem realistic."

She narrowed her eyes at him warily. He kept grinning. "Besides, it's fun; and I know you like it." Despite her fixed expression of annoyance, Pete saw her eyes widen noticeably; clearly he had hit something.

"That's absolutely not what I said. Or the point."

"Mmhmm." He agreed, reluctantly dropping the subject. "So what do you think of this story so far? You think it could have something to do with an artifact?"

Myka began pacing, "It definitely could. I can't tell what kind of artifact yet though; I think we need to hear the end of the story."

As if on cue, Bill reappeared with a gilded picture frame in tow. It wasn't too large, just about big enough for a single sheet of paper. Bill handed the frame to Pete, who was still sitting on the couch, and Myka sat back down next to him to peer through the faintly dusty glass. The frame held a letter addressing a woman named Lucy. It spoke of fairly mundane everyday matters at the beginning and inquiries about friends and relatives in the middle. The end was what caught the interest of the agents.

I told you, my dear, about the unfortunate incident with Maksaube and the gold last week correct? Yes. Well I am happy to report that the Indian made amends with me today in the form of a gift; a gift of a mystical sort that will prevent this sort of accident from happening again. However, I would be ill-advised to go into the specifics in this manner. I will explain all when we are reunited, my love, which will be very soon; at most another week. I only wish my new gift worked on hearts or people instead of mere objects. You could have me in your arms instantly. Again, I have said too much, and will end here.

Remember that I love you, always.

The letter ended with a small illustration of an eagle.

They looked up and Bill confirmed their silent suspicions. "The eagle was Oshea's trademark."

"It's yours too right?" Myka asked, remembering an eagle on the sign outside.

Pete decided to fish around a little-- see if their host knew anything about the artifact. "So this mysterious 'gift' that the Indian gave him-- What do you think it was?

"That gift is still as much of a mystery as it ever was, I'm afraid. After this Wilder took fewer trips to Allegan. It seems as if the gift helped; whatever it was. Possibly a faster canoe or a more reliable Indian courier… Myrna and I have speculated, but we never come to any solid conclusions."

"Well," Pete said rising and stretching his arms above his head. "That was a great story, just as you said Bill, but I'm beat. Whaddya say we hit the sack Honey?

Myka's expression was unreadable for a second; she regained her composure quickly and, agreeing with her 'husband', bid Bill goodnight.

"Have a pleasant night-- and if you could hang this back up in your room." He handed Myka the gilt frame; "I'll see you in the morning."

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Yay! New episode tonight! Called 'Nevermore'--- oooh Poe-ish. Tell me what you think of this and the new ep!

I'm promising some cool stuff in the next chap, as long as it doesn't run away and get me sidetracked…