In the corner lay a decaying skeleton, (fill in the gratuitous “it had a gold tooth and was still wearing a hat” imagery here…), still clutching the largest gold nugget that any of the three had ever seen. As the rain soaked prospectors took value of the cabin, they eventually noticed that the cabin was…uh…”inhabited,” or at least halfway so. While riding around in a valley at the base of the mountains, a sudden and very violent storm crept over the peaks above and started pummeling the hapless trio with large hail and strong winds, while lightening repeatedly struck the only tree in the valley (who says it doesn’t strike twice…)Īfter running their horses around in circles for several frantic minutes, and stupidly trying to outrun the storm, Moe turns around to his compadres and points excitedly into the distance-“There! There!” Seeing what he was pointing at, the trio rides quickly to a small cabin in the distance, dismount their horses and kick in the door. On a sunny July day, the fortunes of these three miners, (who we’ll refer to as “Moe,” “Larry,” and “Curley” from here on out,) would change forever. As in every good story, these guys were completely lost, yet not all too concerned, because they had nothing better to do than pan for gold in the middle of the summer along the Snake River. Our story starts in 1863, with a group of three dumb prospectors wandering around the Bighorn Mountains east of Buffalo, Wyoming. It seems as though everyone that found themselves caught in this tangled web of a mystery eventually found themselves dead-of accidental causes, or by propelled lead deficiency. Lots and lots and lots (and lots) of murder. Over the years, this legend has grown and shaped itself into one of the most ridiculously dizzying stories, filled with secrecy, deceit, love, hate, an epic gunfight or two, and of course-murder.
There are few legends in existence that are funnier or more confounding than that of Wyoming’s Lost Cabin Mine.