The Lost Spanish Treasure of the Panhandles
There's Gold in them there Mesas!
Happy New Year, pardners! My book Pecos Bill Presents Peculiar Panhandles: Oklahoma & Texas Tales is FREE (eBook) for one promotional day only on 1/1/2025. If you’d grab your free eBook copy (or read on KU), rate, and review, I’d be most grateful. As a thank you, here’s some special, exclusive content for Substack that didn’t make it in the book. Hope you like it!
Substack Exclusive: The Lost Spanish Treasure of the Panhandles
Well now, partner, the Panhandles have always been a place of riches—not the kind you find in banks, but treasures buried deep in the land. And while most folks think of cattle and oil, there’s a legend ‘round here that tells of Spanish gold, hidden long before cowboys ever rode these plains.
The story goes back to the 1500s, when Spanish explorers roamed these parts, searchin’ for the fabled Seven Cities of Gold. One such expedition, led by a man named Don Esteban Montoya, claimed to have struck it rich—stumblin’ upon a cache of gold so bright it could blind a man. The trouble was, riches like that don’t come easy, and they sure don’t come without a price.
As the story goes, Montoya’s crew turned on each other faster than a pack of wolves fightin’ over a bone. Greed poisoned their hearts, and before long, they decided to hide the treasure in the Panhandle’s rugged hills to keep it safe. But fate has a funny way of punishin’ the greedy. A storm rolled in that night—one so fierce it washed away their tracks and left the treasure buried forever.
Now, I’d heard tell of this gold my whole life, but I figured it was just a story. That is, until one fine day when a prospector named Old Jed came knockin’ on my door. Jed was the kind of feller who’d dig a hole just to see what was on the other side, and he claimed he’d found a map leadin’ straight to Montoya’s lost treasure.
“Pecos,” he said, his eyes gleamin’ brighter than a polished spur, “this here map’s the real deal. I need a man like you to help me find it.”
Well, I ain’t one to turn down an adventure, so I saddled up Widowmaker, packed a shovel, and off we went. The map led us deep into the Panhandle, to a place where the land rolls like a wave frozen in time. The sun was settin’ as we reached the spot—a rocky outcrop that looked like it hadn’t been touched since the world was new.
Jed was diggin’ faster than a prairie dog, his excitement growin’ with every shovelful of dirt. Me? I kept my eyes on the horizon, listenin’ to the wind and watchin’ the shadows stretch long across the land. Something about the place felt... heavy, like the earth itself was keepin’ a secret.
After a while, Jed let out a holler. “I’ve got it, Pecos! I’ve found it!”
Sure enough, he’d uncovered a chest, its iron hinges rusted and its wood weathered but still intact. We pried it open, and there it was—gold coins, jewels, and artifacts gleamin’ in the last light of day. It was a fortune, all right, but before we could celebrate, the ground beneath us started to tremble.
The wind picked up, howlin’ like a banshee, and a deep rumble echoed through the hills. “What in tarnation?” Jed shouted, clutchin’ the chest.
“That’s no treasure,” I said, grabbin’ his arm. “That’s a warning!”
The earth gave way beneath the chest, swallowin’ it whole, and a column of dust shot into the sky. Jed and I scrambled back, watchin’ as the treasure disappeared into the depths, leavin’ nothin’ but an eerie silence behind.
To this day, folks still search for Montoya’s lost gold, but I reckon the land’s got other plans. It guards its riches the way a mother guards her young—firm, fair, and with no patience for greed. So if you ever find yourself wanderin’ the Panhandle hills and hear the wind whisperin’ secrets, tread lightly. You might just find the gold—or you might find somethin’ else entirely.