Finding The Lost Dutchman's Gold

1820 Arizona

1820 Arizona

Superstition Mountains

Wildfire was at a full gallop. His head was down almost level with his back and his neck muscles were bulging, looking like they were about to burst. His powerful legs were kicking up a huge cloud of dust that could be seen for miles, moving so fast they were almost invisible. The base of the mountain range was peppered with rocks and small thorny bushes. Mini ravines that had dried up long ago were scattered just far enough apart to cause constant stumbles. Wildfire? He didn’t even notice. He knew his owner wanted him to run, so run he did. It took every bit of strength Chester could muster just to hold on. He turned his head trying to see if they were outrunning their pursuers, but the Apaches were still way too close for comfort. Why were they chasing him so hard? Did they want what was in his saddle bags? He had never seen an Apache up close before, and now he wished he still hadn’t seen one up close. How could they live in these mountains that were practically barren? The mountain terrain was extremely rugged and uneven. There was very little greenery, the land was littered with scrub oak bushes, thorny bushes, rocks of all sizes and shapes. Worse, there were more kinds of varmints, many he could not even remember their names, ready to kill you. This land was not hospitable for normal living. Again, he wondered how the Apaches could survive here. Yet, against all odds they flourished.

CHESTER BILLINGS was a cowboy that wanted to be a prospector. He loved living off the land and roaming the range more than anything in the world.

OK, he loved it but not more than he loved money. Almost nightly, Chester dreamed of finding his gold and becoming a rich man.

The thought of being able to buy land, lots of it, and of building a big house and ranch, and filling it with horses, cows, and a beautiful wife.

At 26 years old, he stood 6 feet 3” tall, skinny by any standards, and wore a scraggly beard most of the time, not because he really liked it, but because he liked shaving less. He was a modest looking fellow. He wasn't handsome but he wasn't ugly either, someone might call him just plain to look at.

His horse was a beautiful golden Palomino that stood about 16 hands. He had only won playing poker once in his life, and he had won the horse. His name was Wildfire because he ran so fast, just like a desert wildfire, and could jump over almost anything.

Today, Chester and Wildfire crept along the side of a mountain finding some shade from a ledge when Chester saw something gleaming brightly right by his boot. He reached down and scraped the dirt from around it and popped it out of the desert soil.

"Holy smokes!" he exclaimed! "I believe we done found us some gold, Wildfire! He bit the nugget, it was soft and gave way to his tooth, just like gold. He pulled open his saddlebag and placed the nugget inside. Then, he began walking around, looking for more and soon found several more pieces laying in a circle, almost as if they had been placed there. Who would be crazy enough to leave gold lying about? As he looked around, he noticed there were more nuggets laying in shape patterns, some formed pictures of people, while others formed objects like the moon and sun.

"I'm in heaven!"

He could not believe his good fortune. With his saddle bags soon stuffed with nuggets, he couldn't fit another piece inside. He decided he'd had enough.

All of a sudden, an Indian’s whooping and hollering filled the air, Chester turned and saw them coming straight for him. He figured he only had about 100 yards before they would catch him. The only thing to do was to jump on Wildfire.

"Go, Wildfire!" he yelled. Chester tucked low and broke out the whip for the first time ever. This situation was going from bad to worse, and called for harsh measures. Wildfire was into a full gallop, running just as hard and fast as he could. The veins in his neck were thick and angry, and he was snorting powerfully. Chester's cowboy hat flew off as he whipped Wildfire twice gaining just a little more speed. Wildfire was in perfect harmony with the desert. He stretched his limbs out, reaching for the desert ground, and giving it everything he had. This horse could run! Just then, Chester felt a bee sting in his back and before he could look down to see what it was, he felt another one. He was riding Wildfire hard, gripping the reins with all his strength. He did not know how much longer Wildfire could continue this pace.

Chester started to feel lightheaded and strange. A gradual weakness began to creep through him. He looked down and was horrified to see two arrowheads sticking out of his chest and blood running down his stomach and pants, and onto the saddle. The blood was everywhere. His last thought was about all he was going to buy with his money. A floating sensation was next and it felt as though felt as though everything was moving was in slow motion. He levitated off Wildfire descending onto the dirt and dust. Lying still for a moment, he saw a bright light beckoning him to move toward it. He felt a great sense of warmth fill him, and begin to lift him into the air. As he looked down, he thought how odd it was to see his own body lying on the ground as Wildfire ran away. At that very moment, Chester realized he was dead.

Wildfire continued to run for about 200 more yards before slowing down, and then stopping. He snorted heavily, kicking the dirt with his front legs. The Apache’s galloped past Chester and caught up with Wildfire. One Apache named Eagle Feather grabbed the reins and pulled Wildfire close beside him. Wildfire walked calmly away with them as if they owned him. They led him past Chester sprawled out in the desert scrub and dirt, graveyard dead. Eagle Feather stopped at Chester’s hat, picked it up and placed it atop his own head. He yelled and hollered and the others quickly joined in. He had bagged two great souvenirs for their Chief! The Apache’s led Wildfire back toward their camp. What great gifts for their Chief! He would be proud to own such a fine horse and a cowboy's hat! No one steals their sacred rocks and lives, and gets away with it.