Isaac nodded. “Unfortunately, he was delirious. No one could make enough sense of what he said to actually find the mine.”

“The Lost Dutchman,” Gage said.

“He was German. Deutsch. So that’s what people called it. No way to know if it was the Peralta mine, though there was a rumor not all the family had died in the massacre and Waltz had crossed paths with one of the descendants. Supposedly, he had done the man a favor and been given the location of the mine, or a cache of gold from the mine as a reward, something like that.”

Whatever it was, Abby thought, it was somehow connected to the Devil’s Gold.

“I caution you,” Isaac said. “There are a dozen different versions of the story. Just depends on who’s telling the tale.”

Gage smiled and stuck out his hand. “You’ve been a big help, Isaac. Thanks for your time.”

“My pleasure.”

“Thanks so much,” Abby added.

They left the museum and headed back toward the ranch. Gage made a stop at a small wood-frame house on a dried-out acre of land where they talked to an old prospector named Dobbie Gill. He’d been a guide in his younger days, had spent thirty-five years as a “Dutch hunter.”

Dobbie scratched the sparse patch of gray hair on his head. “Wasted half my life looking for that damned mine. Went in on my days off. Had a friend went along with me. Finally, just got too danged old.”

“So you never found anything?” Abby asked.

“Found lots of different stuff. Old abandoned cabins. Some Apache ruins. Couple of unmarked graves. Closest we ever come to finding what might have been the mine was up on Bluff Spring Mountain.”

Abby’s senses went on alert. She glanced at Gage, saw he had also homed in on the location that matched a spot on King’s map.

“Bluff Spring Mountain,” Gage repeated, hoping to get Dobbie talking again.

“Story was the Mexicans kept horses and mules somewhere up there. Used ’em to transport the gold back to Mexico, but the animals had to be guarded day and night to keep the Apaches from stealing them. We found a flat spot up near the saddle that showed signs of long years’ use as a camp. Would have been a good spot to defend, and there’s some year-round water holes up there. Whenever we got a chance, we’d go back and dig, see what we could find.”

He grinned, showing a missing bottom tooth. “Never found the mine, but we had some mighty fine adventures.”

Abby laughed. “That’s what it’s really about, isn’t it? Learning things and seeing what’s out there?”

“Yes, ma’am, that’s about it.” Dobbie led the way back to his front door. “I wish y’all good luck in your travels. But you best be careful. Lots of folks go in and don’t never come back out.”