Treasure Mountain by Louis L’Amour
Chapter I
“To kill a man, my dear, is not always to make an end of him.” The statement was
made by Andre Baston.
“But after twenty years? Twenty years?” said the woman.
“A lifetime to you, Fanny, but only yesterday to a man like your Uncle Philip.”
“But how could anyone know? It all happened so long ago, and so far away!”
“Nevertheless, a man is here in New Orleans and he is asking questions. His name
is Sackett.”
“What?”
“Orrin Sackett. He is an attorney, a lawyer. He has the same name as the man who
went to the western mountains with Pierre.”
Fanny Baston was small, slender, voluptuous, and beautiful. Her shoulders were
soft and amazingly white, her lips were warm and a little full, and her eyes
were large.
She shrugged. “What difference can it make? Let him ask his questions. We simply
know nothing. Who is left who could possibly know anything?”
Andre scowled. “I do not know. Nobody, perhaps. But I do not like him asking
questions. If Philip ever found out …”
“It would be the end,” Paul said. “The end. He would cut us off, leave us
nothing.”
“You, perhaps,” Fanny said to Andre. “But I was a baby. Not five years old. And
Paul, you were not even in your teens. We had nothing to do with it.”
“Do you think that would matter?” said Paul. “Uncle Philip only needs an excuse
to cut us all off. You too. You aren’t exactly his pride and joy, you know.”
“Then,” she leaned forward, dusting the ash of her small cigar into a saucer,
“kill him. Kill this Orrin Sackett and drop him in the bayou before he can even
be connected to us. Kill him at once.”
Andre was no longer surprised at anything his niece said. “You have an idea?”
“Do it yourself, Andre. He would not be the first.” She looked up at him and
smiled. “Why not? Find an excuse, challenge him. There is not a better shot in
New Orleans, and as for a rapier … how many men have you killed, Andre? In
duels, I mean?”
“Twelve,” he replied. “You have a point. It might be the answer.”
“You are too bloody,” Paul objected. “If you want him killed, there are other
ways. We might get him into one of the concert-saloons—the Buffalo Bill House,
for example. Williams would take care of him for us.”
“No.” Fanny spoke sharply. “No, Paul. If there is killing to be done, the fewer
who know the better. And nobody outside the family.”
“She’s right,” Andre said, “but this is all so premature. This Orrin Sackett
cannot know anything. Pierre was obviously French, obviously from Louisiana. He
brought Sackett back here to outfit before we started west, but Sackett never
left the river front. I don’t know what stirred this up, but all we have to do
is sit quietly and allow it to pass. If he gets close then we can act.” He
shrugged, looking down at the tip of his cigar. “After all, New Orleans may take
care of him without our help. He would not be the first.”
“Have you seen him?” Fanny asked.
“Yes. He’s a big man, nearly as big as I am. Perhaps even as big. He’s a
good-looking fellow, dresses well, seems to know his way around.”
Paul looked up. “Andre, wasn’t there some disturbance down on the waterfront a
few years back? Some trouble involving some Sacketts?”
“I believe you are right, Paul. I do recall something of the kind. An attempt
was made to rob one of them and there was a fight—quite a bloody one.”
“That could be the answer, Uncle Andre,” Fanny suggested. “A Sackett returns …
a revenge killing.”
She was right, of course. It was a simple, logical method if it became
necessary. He would make a few inquiries. If any of the old crowd were around he
might just drop a word here and there. Anyway, this was all over nothing. This
Sackett knew nothing, could know nothing.
A thought suddenly occurred to him. He still had the map. He had kept it,
believing it held a clue to the treasure. None of them knew he had it, for he
had never mentioned it to anyone. After all, when one holds the only clue to the
location of thirty million in gold one does not talk about it. The stuff was
there. He had taken the time to look up the old reports turned into the
government those many years ago, and of course, there was mention of the gold
the French army had mined—thirty millions!
He had been thinking of going back to look for that gold, and this was probably
the time. He was forty years old now, stronger and more able than ever. He must
think about the future, and he had little faith in what Philip might leave them.
Philip liked none of them too well, and with good reason.
What did Sackett know?
Orrin Sackett, standing before his mirror in the Saint Charles Hotel, combed his
hair carefully, set his cravat in place, and left his room. At the head of the
stairs he paused momentarily and touched his left side lightly. The Smith and
Wesson Russian he carried was resting easily. No trouble was expected, but habit
remains with a man.
So far the trip had netted him exactly nothing. He had doubted from the first
that they would uncover anything. New Orleans was a big city. Twenty years had
passed, and the clues he had were slight. Still, if it would please ma there was
no effort he would not make.
After all, what information did he have? Twenty years ago a man of strong French
accent wanted to make a trip to a certain place in the western mountains. That
implied that he had made a previous trip or that he had knowledge of someone who
had made such a trip.
Pa had been asked to guide this Frenchman, and the trip was expected to last but
a few months—time to get there and return.
What would take a man to lonely mountains at the risk of being killed by
Indians? Furs? To trap furs a man had to remain the winter through. A mine?
Perhaps. He might wish to ascertain if the mine was worth development. Yet …
wasn’t it more likely that he knew of gold already mined? Or thought he did?
When Orrin added up all the information he had, he was looking for a Frenchman,
probably from Louisiana, who had some previous connection, direct or indirect,
with someone who had been to the western mountains. Flimsy as that was, it did
much to clear the field, for not many Frenchmen had gone west from Louisiana.
From Canada … yes. Of course, France had controlled all of Louisiana for a
time, and, during the period of the Mississippi Bubble and John Law, great
efforts had been made to find gold and silver. Law had promised his investors
wealth and he made every effort to discover it—or indications of it.
This Frenchman had not wanted a large party. Yet, it was unlikely that they had
actually gone alone. Hence one of the party might have returned, or there might
be a relative who knew something about the affair. The trouble was he had no
starting point. Yet, the simplest way was often the best, and that meant
checking the obvious sources—in this case, government records of mines, claims,
and exploring expeditions in the back country.
Another way, equally simple, was to meet some of the older citizens and start
them recalling their youth. It sometimes required patience, but he had an
interest in such things and could afford a few days. Or he could get some
discussion started of the John Law period—the most likely time for any mineral
exploration.
Bienville, during his governorship, had waited little time searching for
nonexistent minerals. His had been a more practical, down-to-earth approach,
and, had he been let alone to proceed as he wished, the colony might have been
successful long before it was.
At dinner Orrin sat quietly and alone, listening to the idle talk around him and
enjoying the lights and music. He had always enjoyed dining alone, for it gave
him time to think as well as to absorb the atmosphere around him. And tonight
the dining room was filled with attractive, beautifully gowned women and
handsomely dressed men.
The two tables closest to his were occupied: one of them by a group of people of
his own age or younger, the other by a very handsome older couple, a
distinguished-looking man with a beautiful woman, her hair almost white, her
eyes remarkably youthful.
He ordered his meal when the waiter appeared. “And the wine, sir?”
“Chateauneuf-du-Pape,” he said quietly. The older gentleman turned his head and
glanced at him. Their eyes met, and Orrin smiled. “An excellent wine, sir,” the