Mojave Crossing (1964) (9 page)

"Your horses are at Greek George's place," Oliphant said, "out beyond Cahuenga Pass. The gold is there, too, if you can get it."

"I'll get it."

Backing to the door, I looked over at Dayton. "You stay out of my way," I said.

"I don't like anything about you."

He smiled, but I knew now it was not a nice smile. There was murder in it. "You'll not live to cross the mountains," he said. "I shall see to that."

"You're too busy," I said, "trying to steal an old man's ranch."

That hit him. It was like he'd been slapped across the mouth, and he came up out of his chair, white around the lips, but I just stepped outside and pulled the door to behind me.

Roderigo was waiting for me at the end of the street, and he was worried.

"I was afraid for you," he said. "I did not know what to do."

"First things first. Do you know Greek George's place?"

"Who does not? It is there they captured the outlaw, Tiburcio Vasquez."

"Is it far?"

"Ten miles ... only that. At the foot of the mountains."

"My horses are there. My gold also."

He glanced at me. "And you will go for them? Do you know what you do, se@nor? It is the place of the outlaws. And there are outlaws in the canyons all along the Santa Monica Range. You must have the sheriff, se@nor, and a posse."

"I carry my own posse." I slapped my holster. "And as for a sheriff--whichyou, we Sacketts always figured to skin our own skunks, and ask no help of any man."

"I would ride with you, se@nor."

Well, I looked at him and figured to myself that this one was pretty much of a man. "You do that if you feel the urge for it," I said; "only come prepared for shooting, if need be."

We went for our horses, and I had an idea we'd be late if we did not hurry, for Oliphant would be sending someone, or riding himself, to warn them.

"There's a man out there name of Nolan Sackett," I said. "If anybody shoots him, it will be me."

His face paled a mite. "I did not know he was there, amigo," he said. "It is said that he has killed twenty-two men."

"To have killed men is not a thing of which one can be proud," I said. "A man uses a gun when necessary, and not too often, or carelessly."

We mounted up and rode up Fort Street and out of town, heading west and north along the foot of the mountains, with the land sloping off west and south away from us. We rode past irrigation ditches and orchards, and it gave me excitement to see oranges growing, for I'd never seen more than a half-dozen of them in my lifetime.

The railroad had come to Los Angeles with its steam cars, and looking back I could see a train standing at the depot. Main Street led from the depot through part of Sonora town where some of the poorer Mexican and Californios lived, mostly in white-washed adobe houses. The Plaza was set with cypresses; this side of it was the Pico House and the Baker Block, two of the show places of the town. Most of the streets where folks lived were lined with pepper trees, but when we got away from the irrigation ditches it was almighty dry. Because of the bad drouth the last two years, things were in poor shape. The grass was sparse, and there was little else but prickly pear.

With Roderigo leading, we cut over to the brea pits road through La Nopalera--the Cactus Patch [the area now known as Hollywood]--to a small tavern kept by a Mexican. Roderigo swung down and went inside, whilst I sat my horse outside and looked the country over.

Only the faintest breeze was stirring, and the air was warm and pleasant ... it was a lazy, easy-going sort of day when a man felt called upon to laze around and do not much of anything. Only we had something to do.

West of us lay the Rancho Rodeo de las Aguas [now the Beverly Hills area], but looking along the edge of the mountains I saw a faint smudge of blue smoke, indicating where our destination lay. This was the adobe house of Greek George ... the very same place where Tiburcio Vasquez had been shot and wounded as he scrambled out a window, attempting to escape.

Roderigo came out of the tavern, looking serious as all get out. "Se@nor, there are five men at the house of the Griego, but the man of your name is not among them."

Well, I was some relieved. No Sackett had ever shot another, and I wasn't itching to be the first. We'd never had much truck with those Clinch Mountain Sacketts, for they were a rough lot, having to do with moonshining and perambulating up and down the Wilderness Trail or the Natchez Trace for no good purpose. But they were fighters ... they were good fighters.

"We'll ride over there," I said. "I figure to lay hands on my outfit."

He looked at me, and I'll give him this.

He was game. He mounted up and swung his horse alongside of mine, and the only thing he did was to reach back and take the thong off his six-shooter.

"I would like you to meet my grandfather," he said suddenly. "Old Ben would like you."

"From all I've heard," I replied honestly, "I'd like to meet him."

And I'd heard a-plenty. This here was a wise old man, although not too wise to be taken in by a pretty face. But he was not alone in that.

We trotted our horses along the road that came down behind the adobe, and we swung down.

The door opened and a man lounged there, a tough, kind of taunting smile on his face. "Well, look who's here! We figured you were lyin' dead out on the Mojave."

"I take a lot of killing."

"So you do." The man chuckled. "But we never make the same mistake twice."

While he was making talk, I was walking toward him. Roderigo, so far as I knew, had not moved from his place by the horses.

The man in the door straightened up and, grinning at me, suddenly went for his gun. He no doubt fancied himself a fast man, but I didn't even move to draw. I just fetched him a clout with one of my fists, which are big and toughened by a good many years of work with shovel, sledge hammer, and rope ... and he never got his gun clear.

My fist caught him on the angle of his jaw and drove the side of his head against the door jamb. He slumped over and fell where he was, and at the same time I heard two quick shots from outside. Flattening against the door with my fist full of gun, I glanced over to see Roderigo holding a smoking pistol. There was a man with a Winchester slumped over a sill of the window in the ell of the house. He looked kind of dead to me.

Inside three men were suddenly reaching for the smoky beams, and a pretty Mexican girl was standing staring at me. She was young, but she was pert ... and I'd say that her path had probably been a twisty one.

"You look like him!" She was surprised, a body could see that. "You look just like him!"

"We Sacketts favor," I said, "if it is Nolan you speak of, but I've never seen the man."

"You'll see him but once," she said contemptuously.

"Why, now. As to that, I'll speak my piece and he'll go about his business ... elsewhere."

It was not so much a boast as a wish. I called for no shooting with kinfolk, and was surprised that he had it in mind. Only maybe he didn't.

To those others I said, "I came for my outfit ... and the gold."

"You'll find your horses and gear yonder."

A red-headed man indicated the corral and stable.

"I don't know anything about any gold."

"Ma'am," I said to that Spanish girl, "stir up your fire. I reckon we're going to need it. And bring that spit over here." I grinned at those men. "I traipsed about down New Mexico way for quite a time. Those there Apaches, they know a thing or two."

The red-headed one, he wasn't worried much, but those others, they started shifting their feet and both of them broke out in a sweat.

The one I'd slugged in the doorway was fetching around, so I backed up and grabbed hold of the back of his neck with one hand and dragged him bodily into the room and skidded him across the floor.

The Mexican girl hadn't moved. I took up a poker and worried the fire a mite, then she turned and took up her shawl. "Don't you worry," she said to the others. "I'll go for Nolan and Se@nor Dayton."

She looked boldly at me. "This one will do nothing! He is afraid."

I chuckled at that, and it made her mad. Her black eyes flashed and she started to say something back, but I just said, "Ma'am, you sure are a pretty little baggage, but you just go get Nolan Sackett, and when you come upon him you tell him it is William Tell Sackett who is here, and to come along if he's a mind to. As for Dayton, he knew I was coming here. I saw him earlier today ... with a man named Oliphant."

That surprised them, but she went scooting out like she was afraid I'd stop her, which I'd no mind to do. It was in me to settle things, and if they all came around so much the better.

"I have friends, se@nor," Roderigo said to me;

"perhaps I should go for them." He paused. "There are the vaqueros from our ranch, and I believe it is a thing they would like, to find these ... who are known to be thieves."

Now even Red was looking out of sorts, so I told Roderigo, "You go ahead. Tell 'em to bring extra rope. We may need some neckties for these boys."

Back in those days the pueblo, as everybody called Los Angeles, was a place noted for being mighty free with their hangings, legal or otherwise. Over a span of a few years there had been forty legal hangings and thirty-seven spur-of-the-moment affairs. Shootings were a daily occurrence, but, casual as the authorities were, the townspeople were notoriously short-tempered on occasion, and it required little effort to organize a lynching party.

They might not figure me for much, but they had the consciousness of their own guilt to worry them.

There was a close-up storeroom at the back of the house and, herding them all back there, I put them in and barred the door.

Outside, I located my horses, all five of them, and my saddle gear. Saddling up the horses, I found my pack, which had been gone through, but most of it nobody wanted and so it was intact. My Winchester I found in the house along with somebody else's outfit. The Winchester I took, checked the loads, and made ready for whatever might happen.

But what I wanted most was the gold, not all of it being mine. And believe me, I wanted what belonged to me. For the better part of an hour I went over that house, going through everything, hunting the gold, but I didn't find it at all.

And then I heard horses a-coming and knew I was in for shooting trouble.

From the window I watched them approach, then slipped outside and waited among the willows beside the spring. The Mexican girl was with them, and I counted six men, all heavily armed.

They came up at a fast trot, accompanied by a little dust cloud, and as they slowed their pace and spread out to surround the house the dust sort of thinned and settled down. When they actually moved up around the house the horses were walking.

Crouched among the willows, I just waited and let them come. I wasn't seeking any shooting war unless forced to it. Most particularly, I was hunting Nolan Sackett, but he wasn't among them.

All this time I was studying about where my gold might be. Oliphant had said it was here, on this place, but I had my doubts.

When those riders dismounted and went into the house I went over to my horses, mounted up on the stallion, and walked them away from there. From inside I heard argument and talk, but I walked steadily away from there, putting the bulk of the barn behind me as soon as I could, and heading for the mouth of a canyon that opened not far off.

Roderigo would be back, and until then I wasn't going to do any shooting I could avoid.

I might kill the wrong man. I might kill the man who knew where my gold was.

After a minute or two they came bursting out of the door and began to hunt all around.

Sitting my saddle in a clump of tall cactus, I watched them, holding my Winchester across the saddle in front of me. Off down the valley from the direction of the Rancho Rodeo de las Aguas I could see a dust cloud that meant riders moving fast.

The men at the house started scouting around for my tracks, but there were too many horses around the place, and too many people had come and gone. They weren't going to get anywhere with that, and I wasn't much worried.

I was only worried about getting my gold back, for there were folks back in Arizona depending on me. My hunch was that wherever that gold went, Dorinda would know. Unless I was judging her all wrong, she was a girl who could keep her eye on a thing like that.

That distant cloud was coming nearer, and I guess they sighted it, too, for all of a sudden they scrambled for their saddles and rode off, scattering out.

Two of them rode past me, heading up the canyon [Laurel Canyon] where there were other hangouts for outlaws.

When they had gone I walked my horses from the clump of cactus and rode back down to the ranch. Only the girl remained to greet me, and her eyes flared when she saw me.