Was I quicker with a gun? I surely didn't know. The fact of the matter was, it wouldn't make an awful lot of difference, because when the shooting started, if he didn't get me the rest of them would. Only I made up my mind that no matter how much lead I took, I was going to keep shooting long enough to take him with me. For if ever a man needed to die, it was Sandeman Dyer.
So we talked the afternoon away, and finally I knew I had to let go of the bull.
What I mean is, I had a bull by the tail and I was safe as long as I hung on, but I had to let go sometime, and it was better to pick my own time than to wait until he got impatient.
So finally I said, 'Well, it's been friendly, seeing you after all these years, but I've got to start back for Arizona. If you'll hand over my gold, I'll leave out of here.'
His expression changed ever so little, his lids flickering just an instant as he adjusted to what I'd said. Our talk had kind of lulled everybody else into quiet. They were kind of scattered out, busy with their own activities, drinking, talking, sure there'd be no trouble.
They didn't know Dyer like I did.
'Why, sure!' He smiled at me with all the warmth of a hungry wolf. 'I intended you to have it all the time.' He turned his head to the man behind the bar. 'Joe, open the safe and bring that sack of gold over here.'
And right then, I knew.
It had to be when I put my hand on that gold ... or when I reached the door with it.
More than likely it would be the last, for he would want to drag it out. He might shoot me in the back, but it was more probable he'd let me get almost to the door, drawing his gun behind my back, and then he'd speak to me, and when I turned he would let me have it.
In my mind, I counted the steps to the door, and it was far, much too far ... and once I was out in the open room he'd have a clear shot at me.
Suddenly, I realized something else. The afternoon sunlight was falling through the window over our heads, and when I reached that place in the center of the room or a bit beyond and turned, I'd have the sun's glare in my eyes.
Oh, I'll not say he'd seen it that way from the beginning, although with him you never knew. All this talk, when I thought I was getting him to relax and ease off the tension a mite, all that might have been just waiting until the sun was right.
For Sandeman Dyer knew I could shoot.
He had not spoken loudly, and few had heard him except those standing close by. The idle talk on the other side of the room continued, and I heard Joe close the door of the safe and walk back across the room. He put the gold down in front of Dyer and went back to his bar.
There was no sense in wasting time now. Reaching across the table, I said, 'Thanks, Sandy,' and picked up the gold ... with my left hand.
He was smiling, his eyes dancing with that odd light I remembered so well, and I knew he had not missed the left hand ... or my right hand on the edge of the table.
And then I stood up.
All of them were waiting, expecting some word from him. One word, one move from him, and they'd fill me so full of lead folks would be staking my grave for a lead mine.
Suddenly, turning, I thrust out my hand to him.
Instantly, I knew I'd done the wrong thing.
I'd had it in mind to hang onto him and walk him to the door with me, but the moment my hand went out, I knew this was when he would want to shoot me. It would please that mocking devil of insanity in him to shoot me with my hand thrust out to shake hands.
He had come to his feet, smooth and easy, and he half reached to take my hand, then dropped it for his gun.
My hand was outstretched ... too far from my gun, so I just lunged with it to stiff-arm him in the chest, but he stepped back quickly, backing into his chair.
For just an instant it had him off-balance, and I threw my left arm across my face and went crash - comthrough the window into the alley.
Believe me, it was a wild gamble, but I hit the window with a shoulder and went through, falling full length in the alley. As I fell, my hand had grasped my gun butt, so when I hit ground my gun came up with the hammer eared back.
And there he was, broad against the window's light. His gun flamed, but he had expected me to be on my feet and he was geared to shoot high. In almost the same instant that his gun flamed, I let the hammer fall, brought it back and fired again, so fast the two shots had but one thundering sound.
He buckled as if somebody had slugged him in the wind, and his gun went off again, harmlessly, in the air, as his finger tightened convulsively on the trigger.
Leaping to my feet, I spread my legs and shot twice more into his body as he fell back.
This was one man I wanted dead.
There was a rush of feet from inside, and then a voice spoke out, stopping them.
'Leave him be.' It was Nolan Sackett.
'You boys just stand hitched.'
Stooping down, I felt around for my sack of gold, and picked it up. Then I went up to the window. Dyer was sprawled dead on the floor, and they were just beginning to realize there was nothing to fight for.
'Any of you boys want a buy into th game?'
I said. 'The pot's open, and bullets are chips!'
Nobody seemed to be holding high cards, so they stood pat. I said to Nolan, 'I'm riding out of here. Want to come along?'
'You go to hell,' he said politely.
Chapter Nine.
Sometimes the damned fool things a man does are the ones that save his bacon.
When I had my horses all together I tied lead ropes on them and started out of town, and I wasn't sorry to go. Only one thing bothered me, I'd come this far and hadn't seen the ocean sea.
It was over yonder, not too far out of my trail, so when I was heading west across La Nopalera, the big cactus patch that lay north of the brea road, I made up my mind of a sudden. I'd no wish to sleep the night at the Mandrin ranch, so what better than a ride down toward Santa Monica and the sea?
Of a sudden I decided to do it, for I might not come this way again. By such whims can a man's life be saved, as mine was saved that evening.
Turning off, I taken the trail for San Vincente Spring, from which Santa Monica, both the old town and the new, so I'd heard, took their water. It was a long ride, and despite the fact that I kept moving right along, it was nigh to midnight before I got where I could hear the sea.
There was a ranch house on the bluff, about a half mile back from the sea, but I was shy of folks and rode clear of it, although I was near enough that their dog barked at me.
The stars were out and a fresh wind from off the sea felt good against my face. Down at the end of the arroyo was a clump of trees, great big old sycamores, and some brush, but there were too many squatters, to judge by the campfires still going.
So I turned north along the shore until I found another canyon. Up that canyon about a quarter of a mile I found a clump of trees with nobody around, and I rode in, unsaddled, and bedded down.
It was sure lucky that nobody followed me all the way out there, for I slept like a hibernating bear until the sun found my face through the leaves.
My stock had made a good thing of it on the grass in the clearing, so I taken my time getting around. My saddlebags were empty of grub, and after a bit I saddled up and rode along the shore to the town.
After stabling my horses, I got me a room at the Santa Monica Hotel, and made a dicker with the manager, a man name of Johnson, to take my gold off my hands for cash money.
When he paid it over to me he gave me a sharp look and said, 'You seem to be a nice young man.
If I were you I should be very careful, carrying that much money. There are thieves hereabouts.'
'You don't say!' I said with astonishment.
