empty.
I went outside, where sunlight lay on the dusty street and upon the walks. Pausing on the corner, I looked across the Plaza in the direction of Sonora town ... an unlikely place to look for Dyer.
Closer to me was the Calle de los Negros, better known as Nigger Alley, and Tao's gambling house.
Taking my time, I strolled here and there about the town, looking into store windows and watching the horse cars. Most of them seemed to be going out Spring Street to a place called Washington Gardens.
On the streets the folks themselves were a sight to behold, and when it came to the Californios themselves, you never saw such a dressed-up lot of folks. Many wore short jackets of silk, figured calico, or beaded buckskin, white linen shirts open at the neck, black silk handkerchiefs knotted loosely around the neck, and pants of velveteen or broadcloth, or sometimes of beautifully tanned white buckskin, and nearly every one wore a silk sash, usually bright red. The serapes ranged from Indian blankets to fine broadcloth.
The handsome outfits these men had, made me look a poor mountain boy, even in my new twelve-dollar suit. Why, I fancy it must have taken a thousand dollars or more to get some of them dressed. And their saddles and bridles! You never saw so much silver. And two-thirds of them, I was sure, with dirt floors in their houses.
Here and there you still saw men with long hair, and some of them with it not just to their shoulders. In some cases it was braided. The younger ones had taken to trimming their hair, Anglo fashion, but not all of them.
Everywhere a body looked there were black-eyed se@noritas, flirting with you with quick, teasing glances that made the red climb right up a man's neck. Me, I already had two women on my hands, when I wasn't fairly used to one, and more trouble shaping up than you could shake a stick at.
As I went about the town, everybody I asked about Sandeman Dyer was warning me about him. But I was more fearful of what would happen when I rode into Prescott with that black-eyed witch girl and found Ange a- waiting for me than I was of what was ahead of me right now. Ange was a red-haired girl, and she was one with a mind of her own, and she'd had will enough to survive in the high-up mountains of Colorado before I found her there.
[Sackett, Bantam Books, 1961.]
Suddenly a rider turned into Main Street from Spring, and I saw it was that black-eyed gunman who had been at Old Ben's ranch. He rode past, not noticing me, heading for the Calle de los Negros. He would be going to Dyer, I could lay a bet on it.
But just as I turned to follow, a voice spoke behind me. 'You take my advice and you'll leave Dyer alone.'
It was Nolan Sackett.
We stood there facing each other in the street, two mighty big men, both of us armed, and both carrying the scars we'd picked up since we left Tennessee, and a few from before that.
'If he's a friend of yours, you just tell him to hand over my gold. I got no quarrel with him.'
Nolan didn't even smile. 'Don't be a fool, man! You came out of that alive, and you're damned lucky. Now let well enough alone.'
'I'm going after my gold.'
He looked disgusted and mad all to once.
'Look,' he said irritably, 'you're kin of mine, or I'd let you go your way and get killed. Dyer has forty men around him, and he himself is one of the most dangerous men alive.'
'So he sends a man to knife me in the dark?'
Nolan had an odd look in his eyes.
'Believe me, Tell, that man never came from Dyer. Dyer just couldn't care less about you.'
He shoved his hat back on his head, and there was a worried look in his eyes. 'For a man who says he minds his own affairs, you can pick up trouble faster than anybody I ever did see.
You'd be right smart if you just climbed up on that stallion of yours and lit out for the high-up desert.
There's three or four passels of folks here just a-honin' to see you dead and buried.'
'You tell Dyer to have my gold ready. You go right along and tell him.'
'Damn it, if you come against him you'll be facing me. I'm with him.'
'Like I say, I never drew iron on ary a Sackett, but if you stand between me and what's rightfully mine they can bury you along with Sandeman Dyer.'
'There'll be forty men, damn you!'
'Seems to me Dyer can't be too sure of himself if he needs all that company. You go stand beside him, Nolan, and when they bury me they can dig the grave wide enough for the lot of us.'
When he had gone I stood there on the street, staring off toward the hills. Maybe I was crazy. After all, why not get into the saddle and ride away? Most of that gold was my own ... and true, it represented my stake for the future.
It represented the cattle I wanted to buy to stock a ranch in Arizona. It represented a future for Ange and me, if future there was to be.
And those other folks who lost gold entrusted to me ... they could less afford to lose their gold than I could, although they would not lose near so much.
Nobody needed to tell me what I'd be going into, and I had no plan, no idea of what to do. Like I said, I never was much account at plotting or planning or working things out. All I know is to go bulling in and do whatever comes natural. Only thing I regretted was Nolan Sackett being there.
It went against me to fire on a Sackett of the blood. It would go hard to take lead from him, or to shoot him down where he stood. Even a Clinch Mountain Sackett was kin, and I wanted no shooting between us. Still, he had chosen his side, and now it was up to me.
Odd thing, the way a man is.
Trouble waited me there, I knew, maybe injury and death, but I turned around and started down the street, and headed right into x. Maybe I just didn't know any better.
Pausing on the corner, I taken out my six-shooter and spun the cylinder. She worked smooth and easy. A passerby gave me a sharp glance and hurried on past.
That man who took one look and hurried on was the smart one. He saw trouble and avoided it.
Only he didn't have all that gold awaiting him.
Tao's place was sure jumping. I mean, there were a lot of folks there, all of them gambling or drinking. By the time I reached the bar they had me spotted. Until that moment I'd have sworn I didn't know any but one or two of the men who had followed me out on the Mojave, but right away I recognized two of them here.
That black-eyed gunman was standing at the bar when I walked up to it, and he had a taunting, challenging sort of look to him that riled me. 'You tell Dyer,' I said, 'that Tell Sackett is here, and wants to see him.'
'He knows you're here.'
Two men had walked over to a table near the door, where they sat down. Two other men strolled up to a card game and stood by, watching the play. A man playing at that table glanced around thoughtfully, then laid down his hand and cashed in his chips. He got up, kind of careless-like, and went out the door. He was a wise one ... he knew enough to get out before things busted wide open.
Nobody needed to tell me, after all, where to find Sandeman Dyer. The minute I saw him, I knew him.
He was sitting at a table in a little alcove, a man of less than medium height, with square shoulders, and a kind of angular face with high cheekbones. When a body first laid eyes on him it seemed that his face was out of kilter somehow, that maybe it was misshaped, but you couldn't find any one thing about it that was wrong by itself. It was just an impression you got.
He was smiling now, smiling easy and friendly.
And then I thought back to Shiloh, and I felt reason to worry, for when this man smiled he was dangerous indeed.
'Well, now, Sackett, it has been a long time. A very long time.' And he held out his hand to me.
When I took it I knew how it would feel ... cold, and clammy. For I had shaken this man's hand before, and it meant no more now than it did then. He was a great one for shaking hands. I didn't make the mistake of forgetting his little tricks; only knowing Dyer, I knew it would not be now.
Sandeman Dyer--we called him Sandy then-- was a talker. He was a man with a love for the sound of his own voice. He was not only a talker, but a man who liked to parade what he knew, and he was almighty sure that he knew a whole lot more than anybody else. That easy smile of his, that easy laugh, they sort of covered the
