It had taken nearly twenty years, but Gordon Foley had done it.

He fell to his knees at the sight. Everything was as it had been when Jakob Walz had left it in 1877; the timbers framed the mine entrance and a section of short rails led out of it, with rusted remains of wheels and minecarts.

Gordon’s work hadn’t been easy, of course. There had been so many embellishments, so many mistakes…the thought of the thousands of treasure hunters who had combed the Superstition Mountains instead of the Sierra Nevada alone was enough to make him smile. A few misspellings, a substitution of east for west, and one old fool who’d thought Colton, California was Colton Crater, Arizona.

But there it was, nestled in a cleft between two sheer rock faces that rose straight up to the snowy flanks of the Sierras, and laden with gold.

Gordon couldn’t help himself. He let out a whoop that echoed upwards toward the stony peaks.

  • Like what you see? Purchase a print or ebook version!