“‘For years they had transported gold ingots to their plantation in the Yucatán. I found a few pieces here in the mountains, but most of the gold is still in Mexico. I’m going back for it. I asked an old friend, a man named Silas Cummings, to bring the box her in case something happened to me and I didn’t return. Good luck, my sweet girl. Your loving grand-father, King. ’ ”

She dashed away the tears she hadn’t felt on her cheeks and took a shaky breath. “I remember King mentioning his friend Silas a couple of times, but he never said the two of them were together in the Superstitions. Maybe we should try to find him.”

“Maybe we should go home and forget this whole damn thing.” Abby looked down at the letter. “At the bottom it says that everything I need to find the treasure in Mexico is in a safe deposit box in the Wells Fargo Bank on Broadway Street in Denver.” She reached back into the box, sifted through a little more of the sandy soil, and pulled out a deposit box key. Emotion clogged her throat.

“Looks like they were right,” Gage said. “King Farrell went over the edge.”

Abby looked up at him, saw that his jaw was clenched iron hard. “I know you’re disappointed. I don’t know what to say.”

“There’s nothing left to say. Time to pack up and go home. At least he left you enough gold to pay for your trip.” Gage handed her the gleaming chunk of ingot. She turned it over to see the old-style P stamped into the gold.

Peralta.

Gage stalked away, but Abby’s mind was already back in Denver. What was in the safe deposit box? How difficult would it be to find the gold?

Mexico was a whole lot different from Arizona. She needed help. She needed Gage. Judging from the stiff set of his shoulders, he wouldn’t be easy to convince.

She folded the letter and tucked it and the key into the pocket of her jeans. She reached down and touched the ammunition box, the last link she had with her grandfather, carefully replaced the lid. It was ridiculously sentimental, but maybe they could find a way to carry it out in one of the mule panniers.

Gage was already packing when Abby walked up beside him. “At least we don’t have to follow King’s trail on the way back,” he said. “We can take the shorter route, be out of here in two days.”

Abby said nothing, just started collecting her gear and loading her backpack. She was as anxious to get back to Denver as Gage, but for a far different reason.

Abby glanced up to see Mateo walking back down the mountain toward camp.

“You are leaving,” he said to Gage. “Did you find what you were seeking?”

“No,” Gage said.

“Not exactly,” Abby corrected.