Betsy Dowdy lived on an island on the coast of North Carolina in the 1700s. She had a Banker Pony named Black Bess. Banker ponies were descended from Spanish horses left behind when explorers brought them to the New World in the 1500s . Betsy and Bess are legendary for their daring ride to warn, "The British are coming!" on December 6, 1775. My book, An Independent Spirit, is based on the legend of Betsy Dowdy and Black Bess.

We can only imagine how the freedom of living on North Carolina's Outer Banks gave Betsy the opportunity for many other adventures. Many children living near the coast have dug for pirate's treasure. I remember my own determination to find Black Beard's gold right in my backyard. I gave up after hours of digging, but like Betsy I learned the treasure of living in Eastern North Carolina had nothing to do with gold.

"Look, Bess. I brought you a treat. Mother made corn fritters this morning." Betsy held her hand out to the black pony, careful to not let Bess get a finger along with the treat.

Bess nudged Betsy's hand to see if there was a second piece.

"No, that's all. Mother said I shouldn't waste her good cooking on a horse, so I just had one piece. Come on girl, we are going on a treasure hunt." Betsy slipped the bridle onto Bess and hopped onto her back. She didn't have a saddle, but that was fine. Betsy rode like she was part of Bess, always balanced and she hardly ever fell off. When she did fall off Bess waited for her to get back on and away they'd go like the wind.

Betsy guided her pony toward the sound side of the island along a narrow path between the tall sea oats and live oak trees. She talked to her pony along the way, every once in a while she leaned down to pat Bess on the shoulder, or sometimes she'd reach back and scratch her pony on the rump.

"I was listening to Father and Mr. Davenport talking on the front porch last night. They were telling tales about pirates and Mr. Davenport said there was pirate treasure buried all over these islands. He said whoever found it would be richer than the governor himself."

Betsy gave Bess another pat on her neck and said, "We are going to look for treasure, yes we are. I asked him where he thought it might be? He said if he were a pirate he'd bury it far enough from shore that the tide wouldn't wash it out, and he'd look for a landmark to help him find it later. Of course we know the pirates were arrested and so they couldn't come back to find their treasure. It must still be buried right here on our island."

Last night I hardly slept a wink puzzling about where I would bury treasure if I were a pirate. Then I fell asleep and I had a dream. I dreamed I was hiding in the myrtle thicket watching a whole gang of pirates dig a big hole just ten paces from the base of that big, crooked oak tree up the hill from Blackberry Bay. You know? Right where I climb up into the branches and eat my lunch when we go to the bay to fish and swim."

Betsy ducked under a scuppernong vine that grew across the path and then turned Bess to the right where the path divided. They went left along the water's edge, and then up the slope of a sandy hill covered with trees and shrubs. When they got to the top Betsy reined Bess to a stop and dismounted. They were standing next to a big tree. The limbs were twisted and bent low, shaped by the wind for many years. The base of the trunk was thicker than any of the other trees in the forest. One branch dipped close enough to the ground that Betsy could sit on it and her toes still touched the sand.

But Betsy didn't have time for sitting on this day. She had digging to do. She took the bridle off Bess to let her pony graze. Then Betsy stood close to the tree trunk and began to take giant steps toward the sound. One, two, three she counted and stopped when she got to ten.

Betsy took a big cooking spoon out of her pocket and got down on her knees and began digging. Bess looked at her friend a moment. Was she digging for water? Bess sometimes dug a hole with her hooves and waited for fresh water to seep into the hole to drink. But they were to far up the hill to dig for water. The pony resumed eating grass and Betsy kept digging. She knew it would take a long time to dig deep enough to find treasure with a spoon, even if it was a big cooking spoon.

The sun rose higher in the sky. It was getting hot even in the shade of the big tree. Betsy wished she had brought some water to drink and a lunch. She'd been so excited about finding buried treasure she'd forgotten. Well, as least Black Bess was eating lunch. She'd been grazing all morning. Betsy kept on digging. But all she was finding was sand and more sand.

Betsy was getting tired. She thought Bess might be thirsty. "Let's take a break, Bess. We'll ride down to the sound and you can get a drink. Maybe I'll find some grapes. I am hungry." She put the bridle back on her pony and hopped onto her back.

The two friends followed the path back down the hill and along the sound. The sound water was brackish, but not as salty as the ocean on the other side of the island. Bess stopped a few feet from the shore and pawed the sand with one of her front feet. Soon the hole she made filled with water and Bess took a drink. Betsy picked some grapes to eat. Soon she was ready to dig some more. She rode Bess back to the top of the hill. When she looked at the hole she'd dug that morning it didn't look very deep.

"At this pace we'll never find the treasure, Bess." Black Bess snickered and kept munching grass. Betsy wasn't sure, but she thought her pony was laughing at her. "You are right. Grandpa was probably just making up tales. There's no buried treasure here; let's go home."

Betsy Hopped onto the pony's back once again and turned her around and started back home. The sky was dotted with white, cottony clouds. When they came out of the woods Betsy rode Bess along the ocean shore. Green waves rolled in and crashed onto the sand sending sprays of sea foam through the air. It felt cool on Betsy's face. Some seagulls swooped down to the wet sand to quickly gobble up the tiny fish and crabs that had washed in on the waves. The sound of them was like laugher. Betsy urged her pony into a gallop down the beach. Both her long hair and Bess's mane and tail were flying in the wind.

When she saw a school of dolphins playing in the surf she reined Bess to a stop. She sat and watched. The sea mammals did cartwheels in the water just beyond the breakers and Betsy laughed. She looked down the long span of golden sand. The light from the sun and the moisture from the surf made the sand sparkle and twinkle like a million little diamonds.

"Bess, who needs pirate treasure? We have all the beauty of gold and jewels right here before us. What could money from treasure buy us that would be better than going to sleep to the music of the ocean's song and waking up to the glorious sunrises that turn our world into a wonderland of crimson and gold. What could replace my rides with you across the sand and in the forests of live oak and myrtle trees, doing chores with Mother and sitting on the front porch listening to Father tell us tall tales. We live in the best place of all the colonies, don't we Bess?" Betsy leaned down and gave her pony a hug around the neck. Bess turned her head back and looked at Betsy, then nodded as if in agreement.

"Bess, we have plenty of treasure right here."