Missing on Superstition Mountain by Elise Broach

moment, he looked not smart and earnest and teacher-ish, the way he had when they first saw him in the library, but vaguely goofy, like a big kid himself.
    â€œAnd then there are the deaths that haven’t been fully explained,” he said. “People get worked up over those. That’s why there’s so much talk about the mountain being haunted.” He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “But the truth is, whenever there’s a scarce, valuable resource—like gold—and a bunch of people wanting it, there are reasons to get rid of the competition.”
    Henry thought again of the long list of names in Missing on Superstition Mountain , each of them a real person whose life had ended unexpectedly. Violently. Too soon.
    â€œYou mean people have been murdered,” Simon said, unfazed.
    â€œWell, yes. Some have died of gunshot wounds. Some have been decapitated.”
    That word again. Delilah stiffened, and Henry pictured the bleached skulls. “Did they catch the people who did it?” he asked softly.
    â€œNo, not in most cases. This is rough, isolated country … lots of places to hide for someone who doesn’t want to be found.” Emmett smiled suddenly. “There used to be a fellow in Superstition who was a pro at hiding in the mountains. He made a lot of money gambling in the little towns around here, quite a cardplayer. When the people he beat at poker came looking for him to get their money back, he would hightail it into the mountains for weeks at a time. They never found him.” His smile broadened. “So I guess you could say Superstition Mountain has saved a few lives too.”
    Henry shivered. He couldn’t imagine anyone staying overnight on the mountain. He thought of how the wind would sound blowing through the canyons in the black night. “What happened to that guy?” he asked.
    Emmett sighed. “He died a few months ago.” Then, seeing their faces, “Don’t worry, it wasn’t anything suspicious. I don’t know how old he was, but he’d led a long, full life. Used to be a scout for the cavalry, actually.”
    Henry gasped, and Simon interjected, “Wait a second—that’s our uncle!”

CHAPTER 14
    â€œTHEY WEREN’T THE SAME…”
    E MMETT STARED AT THEM. “Huh?”
    â€œHank Cormody! He’s our uncle.”
    â€œYeah,” Jack added. “We just moved into his house.”
    Delilah turned to Henry in wonderment. “Everybody knows your uncle,” she said. “The lady at the library, now this guy…”
    Emmett was still looking confused. “Hank Cormody was your uncle? But you’re way too young—”
    â€œWell, he’s our great -uncle,” Simon amended. “But we’re still related to him.”
    â€œAnd you’re living in his house?”
    Simon nodded. “We inherited it.”
    â€œWell, isn’t that something! So you’re Hank Cormody’s family. It’s funny, you know, because he pretty much kept to himself, but Hank was a legend around here.” Emmett stood up, swinging the door wide. “Here, why don’t you come in? I’ll get that booklet for you.”
    â€œSure!” Jack said. His bike clattered to the ground, and he charged up the stoop past the others.
    Delilah watched disapprovingly. “I’ll wait here,” she said primly.
    Henry looked at Simon. They weren’t allowed to go into a stranger’s house, not ever. But it was worse to let Jack go by himself. And this guy did know their uncle … so he wasn’t a total stranger. Simon seemed to have come to the same conclusion, because he hopped off his bike and climbed the steps of the porch two at a time. With a sheepish glance at Delilah, Henry followed.
    The inside of Emmett Trask’s house was dark and messy, in a way that made Henry immediately feel relaxed. Nobody would have to worry about