The microfilm spools contain digitized versions of historical documents, expedition reports, mining surveys, church records, and territorial maps that document Spain’s presence in what became the American Southwest. Elena scrolls through a 1750 report from Father Francisco Garces, a Franciscan missionary who traveled extensively through Arizona during the exact period indicated by their map fragment. The Spanish text challenges her high school language skills, but she’s developing facility with the formal colonial vocabulary that appears repeatedly in official documents.
Marcus, listen to this, Elena calls softly, mindful of the library’s quiet atmosphere. Father Garces writes about a silver convoy that disappeared somewhere between the mines at Argo and the mission at Tucson. He says the convoy carried processed silver worth approximately 40,000 pesos.
Marcus looks up from his own research, a territorial survey from 1751 that shows mining operations throughout southern Arizona. 40,000 pesos in 1750, that would be worth millions today, especially if it was processed silver bars rather than raw ore. The historical records paint a picture of Spanish colonial Arizona that bears little resemblance to the modern state.
Vast mining operations extracted silver and copper from deposits throughout the region, while pack trains carried processed metals northward toward missions and eventually to ships that would transport the wealth back to Spain. But the landscape that yielded such riches also harbored dangers that could eliminate entire expeditions without leaving traces for future discovery. Elena locates another relevant document, a report from Captain Juan Bautista de Anza, describing the disappearance of a military escort assigned to protect silver shipments through Apache territory.
The report mentions specific landmarks that appear to correspond with symbols on their map fragment, including references to distinctive rock formations and water sources that would have been crucial for desert navigation. Look at this. Marcus indicates a passage he’s been translating.
De Anza mentions a backup plan for protecting silver shipments. If expeditions faced attack, they were supposed to bury the silver and mark the location using pre-determined symbols. The idea was to return with stronger military protection and recover the buried treasure.
Elena feels the excitement that comes from connecting historical research with their personal discovery. The map fragment and Spanish coins represent more than random artifacts. They appear to be elements of a documented historical event, an emergency burial that was never recovered because the people who knew its location never survived to return.
The microfilm contains additional references to lost silver expeditions, suggesting that the disappearance of valuable shipments was not uncommon during Arizona’s Spanish colonial period. Apache resistance, harsh desert conditions, and the vast distances between settlements created numerous opportunities for expeditions to vanish completely, taking knowledge of their cargo’s location with them. Marcus discovers a particularly relevant document, a letter from the Spanish governor of Sonora to church authorities in Mexico City, reporting the loss of significant silver resources buried in emergency circumstances somewhere in the northern territories.
The letter mentions specific landmarks that align with features shown on their map fragment, including references to volcanic formations that still exist in the Superstition Mountains. Elena, I think our map shows the burial location for one of these lost silver shipments. The symbols match the Spanish military conventions for emergency caches, and the terrain corresponds with documented expedition routes.
Elena photographs relevant sections of the historical documents, building a research file that connects their discoveries with authenticated historical events. The Spanish colonial period produced numerous treasure legends, but their findings appear to reference actual documented incidents rather than folklore or wishful thinking. The afternoon research session yields a crucial piece of information.
Father, Garcés mentions a distinctive rock formation called La Aguila del Diablo, the Devil’s Eagle, that served as a landmark for Spanish expeditions traveling through what is now the Superstition Mountains area. The priest’s description of the formation matches a symbol that appears prominently on their map fragment. As the library’s closing time approaches, Elena carefully returns the microfilm spools to their storage cases.
Three days of research has transformed their random discovery into something that appears to have genuine historical foundation. The Spanish coins and map fragment represent artifacts from documented expeditions that carried real treasure through Arizona’s desert landscape. Their $400 storage auction gamble has uncovered evidence of a Spanish colonial treasure.
Burial that historical records suggest was never recovered, but the microfilm research also reveals why such treasures remained lost. The Arizona desert has claimed countless lives over the centuries, including people who possessed knowledge that died with them. The storage facility office smells like stale coffee and photocopier toner, its wood-paneled walls decorated with notices about payment policies and security regulations.
Janet Kellerman, 54, manages East Valley Storage with the efficiency of someone who’s learned to navigate the complex emotions that surround people’s abandoned possessions. She’s worked here for eight years, long enough to recognize the Between genuine curiosity and potentially problematic inquiries, Elena and Marcus sit across from Janet’s desk, trying to appear casual while asking questions that might reveal their discovery’s significance. Elena has rehearsed their approach.
They need information about the storage unit’s previous owner, without appearing to have found anything valuable enough to complicate legal ownership questions. We’re just curious about the unit’s history, Elena explains carefully. We found some old papers with a name on them, and we thought the family might want them back.
You know, family photos and personal documents. Janet consults her computer. Screen, scrolling through rental records that date back several years…
