Treasure on Superstition Mountain

  “If we find that gold mine, there will be more than a hundred,” Simon said, slipping the nugget into the sack with the coins. “That’s why we need to go to the library.”

  CHAPTER 3

  THE PHOTOGRAPH

  DELILAH SLIPPED THE POUCH and the map carefully into the side pocket of her backpack and slung it over her shoulder.

  “Wait!” Simon said. “You can’t take that. We need to keep it here.”

  Delilah frowned. “But it’s my backpack.”

  “We could hide the map and the gold somewhere else,” Henry suggested.

  Simon shook his head. “If it’s in our stuff, Mom might find it. She won’t go nosing around in Delilah’s backpack. That’s the best place for it.” He turned to Delilah. “If you take it home, your mom might look through it. You don’t need it until school starts, so what difference does it make?”

  Delilah balanced uneasily on her cast, still holding the backpack. “I just don’t like leaving it here, is all,” she said.

  “It’ll be safer,” Henry told her. “Please?”

  She looked at him, thinking. “You guys better not let anything happen to it. Or spill anything on it. Or get it all crumpled and dirty.”

  Who cares about that? Henry thought. It’s a backpack! It was meant to get crumpled and dirty; that just meant you were using it for interesting purposes. But Delilah’s did have a crisp newish look to it.

  She reluctantly handed the backpack to Simon. “Okay.”

  Simon shoved it far back in Henry’s closet, piling the mess of shoes and game boxes in front of it. “There,” he said. “Mom won’t be digging around in that. Now let’s go to the library.”

  * * *

  The boys had almost reached the front door when they realized Delilah wasn’t with them. She was standing in the hallway, looking forlorn.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Jack cried. “Hurry up!”

  Delilah sighed. “I can’t. I can’t run. I can’t ride my bike. I can’t go to the library with you.” She bit her lip, looking down at the cast.

  “What’s all this?” Mrs. Barker appeared in the doorway of her study, pushing her glasses to the bridge of her nose. “Where are you all off to?”

  “We were going to go to the library,” Simon said. “But Delilah can’t come because of her cast.” He composed his face in what Henry thought was a very convincing crestfallen expression.

  “Well, I could walk,” Delilah said. “But it will take me a lot longer than you.”

  Mrs. Barker squeezed Delilah’s shoulder. “That’s silly. I don’t mind giving you all a ride,” she said. “Then if you’re up to it, you can walk back, or”—she turned to Simon—“your father can pick you up in a couple of hours, on his way home from work.”

  Mr. Barker’s stonemasonry shop, where he mixed cement and stored slabs of rock for walkways and patios, was right in the center of town, a short distance from the library.

  “That would be great!” Simon said jubilantly.

  * * *

  Mrs. Barker pulled the station wagon up to the curb, near the library’s sliding doors. “Don’t forget to renew anything that might be due,” she said.

  “Oops, we forgot our books,” Henry fretted.

  “That’s okay, the librarian can renew them automatically. Do you need my library card?”

  “They were checked out on mine,” Delilah said, “and I brought it.” She waved a pink-and-black-striped wallet in the air. “See? My grandparents gave this to me. For breaking my leg. I keep everything in it.”

  It surprised Henry that anyone would deserve a present for falling down a canyon and breaking her leg, especially since it happened while she was exploring a mountain she’d been expressly forbidden to climb … but he had to admit, grandparents were funny that way. They always felt sorry for you and wanted to make things better, even if the problem was entirely your fault. He remembered one time his grandparents had given him a watch for his birthday and he’d accidentally worn it in the shower that very night, ruining it. His parents had been mad at him, but his grandparents bought him another one just like it and mailed it to him the very next day. “Those things happen,” his grandma told his mother later. “And Henry was so excited about that watch! He didn’t mean to break it. I’m just glad it was something easily replaced.”

  Jack looked at Delilah’s wallet and wrinkled his nose. “Ugh, PINK. Why is everything you own pink?”

  “It’s not.” Delilah tucked the wallet back in her pocket. “But I like pink. It’s a happy color.”

  Simon swung open the car door and reminded Mrs. Barker, “Tell Dad to pick us up, okay? In a couple of hours.”

  They spilled onto the pavement, which shimmered a hot white in the afternoon sun. It was already over ninety degrees, a baking, steady heat without an ounce of moisture in it.

  “I’ll tell him to come around four,” Mrs. Barker called through the window as she drove away. “Keep an eye on Jack.”

  Jack’s face clouded. “Why does she always say that? I don’t need anyone to keep an eye on me.”

  “Sure you do—” Simon started.

  “I do not!” Jack raised his fist.

  But Henry interrupted. “It’s just because you’re the youngest. It doesn’t mean anything.” And then, to distract him, “Are there any books you want to check out?”

  Jack thought for a minute. “I’m going to get a book on snakes,” he said sullenly.

  “What kind of snakes?” Delilah asked, and Henry shot her a grateful glance.

  “Rattlesnakes!” Jack answered as they walked through the doors into the cool sanctum of the library.

  Jack glanced around. “Where is she?” he whispered loudly.

  “There.” Delilah pointed. “Behind the circulation desk.” Julia Thomas, the strange black-haired librarian with the nicey-nice voice and the fake smile, was helping an older man in a plaid shirt.

  “Shhh,” Simon warned. “Let’s go back to the local history section. Maybe she won’t see us.”

  They strode quickly across the beige carpet to the low bookshelves marked ARIZONA HISTORY that stood against the wall under a large, bright map of Arizona.

  “Look for books about gold mines and miners,” Simon said. “Especially anything about the Lost Dutchman’s Mine.”

  The boys crouched in front of the shelves while Delilah bent awkwardly over her cast. They set to work sorting through the thick, tattered volumes.

  “Hey!” Jack announced. “Look at this!” He held up a large book with ARIZONA GOLD! emblazoned in yellow letters across a black-and-white photograph of two prospectors and a donkey standing in front of a cave. “And it has lots of pictures too.”

  “That’s a good one,” Simon said approvingly. “See what’s in it.”

  “Here, I’ll help you read the captions,” Delilah offered, lowering herself to the floor.

  Henry and Simon continued to look through the rows of books. There were so many, on every conceivable topic: pioneers, ranchers, the Apache Indians.

  “Here’s one,” Simon said. “Mining Towns of the Old West. There’s a section on Arizona. Maybe there will be something about treasure maps in here.”

  “Ooooh,” Henry said suddenly, grabbing the spine of a slim orange book and pulling it from the shelf. “The Lost Dutchman’s Mine.”

  He sat next to Simon and began reading about Jacob Waltz, who had come to the Superstitions in the 1870s. Waltz had learned the location of a fabulous gold mine either from the Spanish descendants of Miguel Peralta or from an Apache Indian girl—nobody was certain which—but he would show up in Phoenix year after year with saddlebags full of gold, refusing to tell anyone where the riches had come from. When gold seekers tried to follow him out of town, in the hope of finding the hidden mine, he would lose them in the cliffs and canyons of Superstition Mountain.

  Henry read this part aloud to the others. “That’s like Uncle Hank,” he told them, thinking of the stories about their madcap uncle, w
inning at poker in one of the little towns surrounding the mountain and then retreating to its crooks and crevices to elude the angry players who chased after him, hoping to reclaim their money.

  Henry turned a page to find a photograph of a severe-looking fellow with a bushy beard and a rather garish checked suit.

  “Hey,” he announced, “here’s a picture of Jacob Wal—” Then he stopped.

  “What is it?” Delilah asked, scooting closer to him.

  “Look at this picture,” Henry said softly, his finger falling on the photo next to the picture of Jacob Waltz. It was a faint black-and-white image of a woman. “It looks like—”

  “Looks like what?” Simon crawled over to them.

  Henry stared at the woman’s dark hair, bright eyes, and thin, swooping eyebrows. “It looks like—” he began again.

  Jack bounced up and leaned over their shoulders. “It looks like the creepy librarian!”

  CHAPTER 4

  THE WARNING

  SIMON FROWNED. “It does, sort of. But it’s such an old photo. It’s hard to see what she really looks like.”

  Delilah sucked in her breath. “Read the caption,” she said quietly.

  Henry’s finger drifted down to the tiny italicized sentence below the photograph. He read aloud, “In his old age, sick with pneumonia and in frail health, Jacob Waltz was cared for by a local woman.…” He stared at Delilah and finished helplessly, “Julia Thomas.”

  “What?” Simon demanded. “Read that again.”

  “That’s her name,” Henry said slowly. “Julia Thomas. And it’s the same name we saw on the tombstone.” He couldn’t keep himself from shivering. What did it mean?

  “Well,” Simon said, pausing, “I guess the woman who took care of Jacob Waltz all those years ago could be buried in that old part of the cemetery. That’s possible.”

  “But she looks the SAME as the librarian!” Jack protested. “And she lived a hundred years ago! Does that mean the librarian is a GHOST?”

  “What’s that about ghosts?” A chillingly familiar voice interrupted them, and they looked up to see Mrs. Thomas walking toward them.

  How much had she heard? Henry slammed the book shut and pressed it against his chest. Simon quickly swept the other volumes into a stack.

  “Hello, children, how are you?” Mrs. Thomas greeted them, her smile pasted on her face in that unsettling way that never reached her eyes. “I’m glad to see all of you back in the library.” Her gaze darted over the books at their feet. “Can I help you with something?”

  Before she could get any closer, Delilah hauled herself to her feet. “Could you help me get a book from the top shelf?” she asked smoothly. “I can’t reach it on account of my cast.”

  Mrs. Thomas turned to her. “Which one?” she asked as Delilah hobbled away from the stack of books on the floor.

  “Up there.” Delilah pointed. “The blue one with the gold letters.”

  Mrs. Thomas reached up and drew a fat book from the top shelf, putting it in Delilah’s outstretched hands. “I heard about your little adventure on the mountain,” she said.

  “You did?” Jack blurted.

  “Yes, I did. What a shame Delilah broke her leg.”

  She started toward their pile of reading material, but Delilah blocked her. “Hey, would you sign my cast?” she asked, lifting it awkwardly in the air.

  Mrs. Thomas backed away in distaste.

  “Please?” Delilah persisted. “I have a pen.”

  “Oh, all right.” The librarian leaned over Delilah’s cast, lips pursed. Quickly, in tightly looped, slanting cursive, she signed her name. Henry noted the absence of any greeting or encouraging remark.

  “Thanks,” Delilah murmured in defeat as Mrs. Thomas pushed past her to their stack of books.

  “Are you looking for ghost stories?” she asked.

  “Jack was,” Simon volunteered.

  Jack glowered at him. “No, I want a book on snakes—” he started, but Delilah and Henry hushed him.

  “We don’t really have anything like that in this section. But there are some good children’s mysteries with a supernatural element. Jack, why don’t I take you over to juvenile fiction, and we’ll see if we can find you something?” She turned to him expectantly, but he sat rigid, as if nailed to the carpet.

  “Oh, that’s okay,” Delilah interjected. “I can take him over there later. We wanted to check out some more books about Superstition Mountain.”

  Mrs. Thomas crossed her arms and studied them. “I see that you’ve chosen some books about mining towns.”

  Simon shrugged. “We’re just looking for anything on the history of this place,” he said vaguely.

  “Is that all?” For the first time, the strange frozen smile completely left Mrs. Thomas’s face. Henry shifted uncomfortably under her unrelenting stare. He saw that her bony fingers were gripping her arms so hard that her knuckles had turned white.

  “Well,” she said, her words dropping like cold, hard pebbles from her mouth, “the history of this place is not a game for children.” She looked at each of them in turn. “The history of this place could get you into trouble.”

  Simon started to say something in response, but Mrs. Thomas raised her hand and the words died on his tongue.

  “What happened to you on the mountain is just the beginning,” she said. With that, she turned and walked away.

  CHAPTER 5

  GOLD CREEK

  “UGH!” JACK SHUDDERED as soon as the librarian was out of earshot. “She is so weird. I bet she IS a ghost.”

  “There are no such things as ghosts, Jack,” Simon said impatiently. “But she is strange. She always seems like she’s trying to scare us.”

  “Well, it’s working!” Henry said. “How do you think she knew what happened to us up on the mountain? Who would she be talking to about that?”

  “It could only be the policemen, right?” Delilah said thoughtfully. “Unless your parents said something. My mom and I have been out of town.”

  “Our parents didn’t say anything!” Jack protested. “They are not blabbermouths.”

  Henry considered this. He secretly felt that their mother was sort of a blabbermouth. She had a tendency to matter-of-factly reveal things about the boys that she found interesting or touching, but that struck them as deeply embarrassing. Their father, on the other hand, could be counted on to keep anything they told him confidential, but as their mother remarked, that was mostly because he wasn’t paying close attention in the first place.

  “I didn’t say they were,” Delilah answered calmly. “Superstition is such a small town. My mom says one of the bad things about small towns is that everybody knows everybody else’s business. Maybe that’s how she found out.” She paused. “What do you think she meant, ‘just the beginning’? The beginning of what?”

  Even Simon had no answer to that. They looked at each other apprehensively. Henry opened his book across the floor and returned to the page with the photograph of the dark-haired woman, her bright, beady eyes gazing straight ahead. A chill of foreboding washed through him. “It really does look like her,” he said weakly. “And she’s got the same name!”

  Delilah twisted her braid. “Maybe they’re related,” she suggested. “Maybe the Julia Thomas in the picture is the other one’s great-great-great-grandmother.”

  “That’s possible,” Simon said. “Or they could just have the same name.” He studied the stack of books in front of him. “If we check these out, she’ll know too much about what we’re doing.”

  “Yeah,” Henry agreed. “The covers are so conspicuous.” He glanced down at his book with The Lost Dutchman’s Mine in large letters across it. The title would give away everything. Mrs. Thomas would quickly figure out that they were interested in the gold mine.

  “We’d better leave that one here,” Simon decided. “Read as much as you can right now, Henry. I’ll look up which mining towns were in this area. Delilah, can you take Jack over to the kids’ se
ction to find a book on ghosts? That way we’ll at least have something to check out.”

  “Sure,” Delilah said, standing up. “Come on, Jack.”

  “But I don’t want a book about ghosts,” Jack complained. “I want a book on SNAKES. And I want to find out stuff about the gold mine.”

  “We’ll find out about the gold mine later,” Delilah told him. “Right now we need something to keep that librarian from figuring out what we’re really doing.”

  Henry thought for a minute. “A decoy.”

  “What’s that?” Jack asked.

  “A book we can check out that will throw her off the scent,” Henry explained. “Like a book on ghosts … or snakes.”

  “That’s just as important as finding out about the gold mine,” Delilah added. Mollified, Jack scrambled to his feet and followed her to the children’s area.

  Henry flopped on his stomach with his chin in his hands and went back to reading about Jacob Waltz and his secret gold mine.

  “Hey,” he told Simon, “it says here that Jacob Waltz’s house was destroyed in a flood. That’s how he got sick with pneumonia and ended up moving in with Julia Thomas so she could take care of him. But people later found $15,000 in gold under his bed!”

  Simon raised his eyebrows. “That’s a lot! Back then, it would have been a fortune.”

  “The book says it was high-quality gold ore … and everyone wondered where it had come from. They hadn’t seen anything like that from Superstition Mountain before.” Henry kept reading. “Hey, listen to this: the rumor was, he left behind a map to the mine! With Julia Thomas. And for a while after his death, she tried to find the mine, and then when she couldn’t, she made a living selling the directions to people.”

  Simon looked impressed. It occurred to Henry that this was exactly the kind of scheme Simon himself would have pursued.

  “Did anyone ever find it?”

  Henry continued reading to himself. He shook his head. “Nope, nobody ever found it.”

  “So there ARE treasure maps to the gold mine?” Simon cried excitedly. He rubbed his hands together. “That’s what we have to look for! Maybe the map you and Delilah brought back from the mountain is one of them.”