The tree was there, but it was now a few feet over to one side, still fastened to the stump by a strip of wood and bark. Somebody had picked up the top end of the tree and pulled it to one side, leaving uncovered the place where it had originally fallen and where it had been lying for at least several weeks.
Leading the black off the trail, I left it tied, and went over to the tree. When I had pulled it aside I found the pack saddles, fully loaded and not more than a few feet off the trail the freighters would take. Each saddle held a hundred and fifty pounds of gold.
Reaching down, I caught hold of a loaded saddle with each hand and straightened my knees. I walked off about fifty feet and paused, resting the saddles, and then after a moment went on. Twenty minutes or so later I returned and rode my horse all around the area, trampling out all the tracks. Then I rode back into town and tied my horse to the hitch rail in front of a store, now closed for the night.
Carrying those three hundred pounds had been no trick for me, for I’d grown up swinging a double-bitted axe, wrestling with a crowd of brothers and cousins, and then going on to handling freight on a river boat. After that I’d wrestled mean broncs—and thousand-pound longhorn steers. I guess I’d been born strong, and anything I could pick up I could carry away … and often had.
But moving that gold would only help me for a matter of hours. By daylight there’d be other folks hunting it. However, if a freighter was pulling out with a train of wagons, I figured to be along. I’d driven a team a good many times, and handled a jerk-line outfit as well.
Standing in the darkness alongside my horse, I checked my gun and my knives, for if ever a man was bucking for a fistful of trouble it was me. If there were freighters about I figured they’d be in Baca’s saloon, and it was there I went.
16
The place was already half full of soldiers from the Fort, mingling with Baca’s dancehall girls, and he had him a plenty of them. Here and there some tough-looking Mexicans stood around, and they were Baca men, not to be taken lightly.
Baca’s eyes found me as soon as I came in, and they watched me as I worked my way through the crowd. When I stopped near him I ordered a drink. “Gracias, Baca,” I said. “I found her.”
He shrugged. “Bueno. Annie tells me you are a good man.”
“One thing, Baca. If any trouble starts around here, I want none with you. I’ve no argument with you, and want no trouble.”
“Si, it is understood.” He motioned for a glass and poured me a drink. “To you, senor, and good fortune.” We drank, and then he placed his glass carefully on the bar. “Noble Bishop is in town. He was asking for you.”
“I’m not trying to prove anything, Baca. If he wants me he’s got to come asking.”
“Is it about the senorita?”
Better for him to think that than to start wondering. “She’s a pretty girl,” I said, “and a lady.”
“So I am told.”
“Frankly,” I said, “I’m hunting a job. Something to sort of keep me out of sight for a while. Riding or driving a freight team. But not a stage … nobody sees a freighter, but everybody sees a stage driver.”
“There is a man in town—his name is Ollie Shaddock. He is taking some wagons out tonight, picking up more at Las Vegas.”
I moved to a table near the wall, where I sat down and waited for Shaddock to come in. Most times I was a patient man, but now I was impatient, for gold makes a heavy weight on a man’s thinking. It worried me that I had not seen Bishop, or Sylvie or any of that lot.
When Shaddock came in he was motioned to my table by Baca. I’ve no doubt Baca wanted to get shut of me.
Ollie Shaddock was a broad, cheerful man whose blond hair was turning gray. He thrust out a hand. “Anybody by the name of Sackett is a friend of mine. I’m from Tennessee, too.”
“You know Tyrel and them?”
“I brought their ma and younger brothers west. I’m from the Cumberland.”
“Me, I’m from Clinch Mountain.”
“Good folks over there. I’ve some kin there. What can I do for you?”
“I want to hire on as a driver, or I’ll drive for free. Only I want to be driving the last wagon when you pull out tonight.”
His face sobered. “You tied up with that girl?”
“Sort of. I’ll load what she thinks she’s going to load. She’ll get her share at Santa Fe … only I want to be sure I get mine.”
“You’re a Sackett. That’s enough for me.” He motioned for a bottle. “Nolan, I was the one who started Orrin in politics. In fact, it was because I was sheriffin’ back in Tennessee that the boys come west.
“Tyrel, he wound up their feud with the Higginses by killin’ Long Higgins. It was up to me to arrest him, and he went west to avoid trouble … me bein’ a friend of the family, and all.”
“Well, can you leave me a space for a couple of loaded pack saddles in the middle of the wagon?”
“Sure enough.” Shaddock filled his glass. “You know Tyrel and them?”
“No. Heard tell of them.”
By now the place was going full blast and I wanted to get out; besides, I wanted to see if Penelope was all right. That girl worried me. I couldn’t figure whether she was a-fixin’ to get me killed or not. Maybe she’d been out in that kitchen pourin’ coffee … but she might have been signaling Loomis.
Ollie Shaddock got up after a while and left, telling me where to meet them. It was sheer luck that he had turned out to be a friend of the family, and a man from the Tennessee hills. I’d heard of him before this, but only as being a man who operated several strings of freight wagons in New Mexico and Arizona.
After a few minutes I got up, paid what was asked, and eased out of a side door. Baca watched me go, no doubt glad to see me leaving. Not that fights were unusual in Loma Parda, for the town had been the scene of many a bloody battle, with many kinds of weapons.
The night was cool and still. Stars hung large in the dark sky, the cottonwoods rustled their leaves gently. I stood there, hearing the voices from inside and the tinpanny sound of the music from the music box. There was a smell of woodsmoke in the air.
I moved to the side of the door, where I waited, breathing easy of the night air and letting my eyes grow accustomed to the darkness. The last thing I wanted now was trouble. I had the gold hidden, I had a way of getting out of town, and in a matter of less than an hour we would be leaving.
When I moved, it was along the wall toward the street, and when I reached it I paused in the darkness looking both ways. Down the street I could see a light in Slanting Annie’s window, and I wanted to go that way. Annie would be at work by now, but Penelope would be there, waiting as I was.
She wouldn’t be caring about seeing me, I knew, for I was no likely man to attract a girl’s eye. Lifting my hands, I looked at them. Fit for handling guns or tools, fit for the hardest kind of work, for lifting the heaviest loads, but they’d found no call to gentleness, nor were they likely to. A girl as pretty as Penelope …
No use thinking about that. She had gone off and left me, leaving no sign. She might have murdered Harry Mims, and set a trap for me. Maybe it was like she said, that after he was killed she was afraid to be alone, but I couldn’t trust her. The trouble was she looked so warm and friendly, so soft and lovely, that every once in a while my good sense went a-glimmering.
Somewhere around there was Sylvie and that brother of hers, and I’d given too little thought to Sylvie. But she’d probably given a lot of thought to me, and the chances were that she’d been working on Noble Bishop.
I stepped out on the street, which was partly lit by the light from the windows around, and walked toward the place where I’d left my horse.
The black nickered a mite and snuffed at my hand with delicate nostrils. I’d picked up a lump of brown sugar, and I fed it to him. Then I untied him and led him away into the darkness.