Goldfield

Now, it's been said that superstitions will always remain preeminent over facts. That a rumor will linger far after its owner is dead and gone. Some have even said that legends sell more papers than facts. It makes sense then, why there are so many legends about the short lived, yet explosive, era of the Wild West. But I am here to testify that truth is stranger than fiction.
This is the story, as orderly as I can tell, about the events of Superstition Mountain and the gold mine therein. This story has only three characters: the godforsaken mine, every fool that died goin' after it, and me. In the South-west of what is now Arizona, lies a mountain. It's not a mountain in the most traditional sense of the word. There's no triangular peak, certainly no snow. It looked kind of like a razorback hog, all jagged with stacks and piles of rock. It was full of thorns and cactus as if the ground were never meant to be lived on...