W. C. Tuttle

“ Perhaps I shall be lucky enough to have my funeral oration spoken by a man who did not know me any better than I knew Preacher Bill. Will he say, ‘This is Paget Le Saint,’ or will he say ‘The Saint?’ I wonder. Still, what should I care, Duke?”
“Damn little difference it makes, after a man’s dead,” nodded Duke Steele.
“True as Gospel, Duke. Life is the only [16] thing that interests me; death I know nothing about—nor care.”
And the Saint spoke truly, when he said he did not care; for the Saint was a fatalist, a gambler, who staked his life against other men’s gold. ”

“ But no man may rule a community without assistance. Sleed surrounded himself with a few trusted men, who were paid for doing certain things without asking the why and wherefore; men who might be undesirable to a village of God-fearing folk, but passing unnoticed in Calico, where, according to the parlance of Sunshine Alley, everything went, except the cook-stove and one joint of pipe.
Just now Sleed was standing with his back to the bar, in the saloon, his eyes squinted, as though in deep thought. ”

“ There was the free, easy swing to his walk, like the half-lope of a desert wolf.
The patriarch halted the caravan on the trail, just short of the street end, and gazed across at the funeral. The younger man glanced over there, with little show of interest.
“Duke,” the old man jerked his head toward the graveyard, “I reckon they’re plantin’ somebody. Let’s me and you go over.”
They left their burro on the trail and crossed over, attracting little attention. The crowd seemed to be waiting for someone. Two men were standing near the grave, talking earnestly. ”

“ The Saint had secured a small, rough table, which he had placed in the street, using the lights from the saloon to illuminate his game. A big moon, peeping over Ruby Hill, lit up the street in a soft blue haze, broken by the blocky shadows of the rough buildings, and shot here and there by the yellow lights from oil lamp or candle. ”

“ The Saint looked down at the rocky floor and smiled in his great beard.
“Life is no mystery to youth, and you are only thirty years of age, Duke. But don’t feel sorry for Sleed’s girl. In the first place, she is Sleed’s girl; in the second place, you are Duke Steele.” ”

“ For a moment there was silence, and then Cates said, “’Member what I said about them buzzards? It sure is hard to fool a buzzard. G’d-night.”
Luck turned to Duke, her face white in the flickering light of the one candle.
“My dad,” she said slowly, “is offering money for your lives.”
Duke thought of the I. O. U. in his pocket. Forty-six thousand dollars. No wonder Silver Sleed was willing to pay well to stop collection on that piece of paper. It would break Sleed to pay that bet; strip him of his unearned wealth.
“I reckon your dad’s got the wrong idea of us,” said Duke slowly. ”

“ Never buck another man’s game, because it was not invented to lose money for its owner. The gent bets five that he can pick the right shell.
“One at a time, gents. This is a one man game, unless you both want to bet on the same shell. Empty again, gents. Where’s the next man who is foolish enough to think he can beat a sure-thing game?”
The Saint’s voice boomed softly as he pocketed the bet and slowly moved the two walnut shells. The yellow light from the Silver Bar windows lit up his white hair and white beard, as he lifted himself to his full height and studied the crowd in the street. ”

“ Thus, according to the Indians, was formed these mountains, which are but a jumble of barren rocks, rising sheer from the level desert; scourged through the centuries by the desert sun, wind and sand—an unfading proof that, unlike man, the Great Spirit painted deeper than the surface. ”

“ Sleed came back from Cactus City the next day; came back like a sore-headed grizzly looking for trouble. He had drunk heavily, played poker all night, and the heat of the day had ground his temper to a razor edge.
Men kept away from Silver Sleed when he [51] was in this humor, but he soon heard of the shell game, which had held the attention of the crowd the night before, and his face purpled with rage. He cursed everyone in sight and sent for Loper, who was almost as sore-headed as his master. ”

“ Sleed licked his lips and studied the pot.
[81]
“Your luck or mine,” said Duke softly. “You’re rich, Sleed, but are yuh game? It’s a man-sized pot.”
From out on the street came the voice of the Saint:
“It can’t be beat, folks. The more you lay down, the less you pick up. The hand is quicker than the eye, and this game was designed to prove it to you. Don’t bet, unless you want to lose.”
Duke watched Sleed closely, as he stared down at the pot.
“It’s luck that wins, Sleed; and you’re losin’ your luck.” ”

“ My father let Preacher Bill teach me things, and I wonder—my father is down at Cactus City tonight.”
“You’ve lived here a long time?” asked Duke.
“Two years.”
“Mighty long time to live here,” observed Duke.
Luck nodded slowly. “A long time—yes. Nothing but heat in the day and this—” She gave a weary gesture toward the street—“at night. I have lived in the North, where the mountains are big and cool; where there are big trees and rivers. It is never cool here. At times it is a dreary cold—then the heat.” ”

“ Both of them were giant men, and they crashed together like two grizzlies, while the crowd backed away to give them room, knowing nothing of the reasons for the fight. Luck had started ahead, but Duke drew her back against the rock.
“My God, he’s stronger than Sleed!” gasped a man. “Look at him, will yuh?”
The rest of the crowd watched silently the stranger battle. Silver Sleed was battling for his life while the old Saint, insane with the stored-up hate of years, and with the super-human [112] strength of a madman, battered and crushed Silver Sleed without mercy. ”

“ Duke Steele had elbowed his way to a point just beyond the Saint, and was watching the crowd.
Loper shoved men aside and stepped in front of the table, looking curiously down at the two shells. Duke had seen Sleed signal Loper in the saloon, and he knew that Loper was the one who had killed Ace Ault. Loper was Sleed’s man, and this was their first move against the Saint.
“Don’t waste your money, friend,” warned the Saint, as Loper took out some gold. “You can’t win.” ”

“ Dad never talks about her, and when I ask him he gets angry. I don’t remember her. I remember that we lived in the North, where it gets cold, and where there are big mountains. Since then we have traveled all over the country—Dad and I.”
“You ain’t had much of life, that’s a cinch,” muttered Duke. “Feller hadn’t ought to drag a girl over the country like that. Bad enough for a boy.”
Luck shut her lips tightly for a moment, and then, “I guess I can stand it. Dad says he is going to get me some books. Ace Ault wanted to get me some, but Dad put a damper on that idea. Dad didn’t like Ace.” ”

“ No doubt you were a hard drinker, of very little value to any community, and showed poor judgment in objecting audibly against a run of bad poker luck, but no man can live through childhood and well into life’s narrow span without doing some good—leaving somebody better for having known you. Let him who is without sin cast the first stone. Good-by, Preacher Bill.”
[14]
The bearded man straightened up and looked at the crowd.
“Friends, I ask you to try and remember the good things he has done and forget the bad. We are all children of circumstance. ”

“ Sleed tossed the next two, and the crowd gasped. Each man drew a king.
“Matched cards,” said Duke, laughing softly. “One more card, Sleed, one more. This one proves that luck has left you.”
Slowly Sleed moved the top card and tossed it across at Duke. It was the deuce of clubs, making a pair of deuces for Duke Steele. An ace, king, or a five would win for Sleed.
“Friend, you are out of luck.” The Saint’s voice seemed to be directed at Silver Sleed. “I told you that this game cannot be beat, but you——”
Sleed spun his card in the air and it fell face-up on the pile of chips. ”

“ Men believed him insane, at times, because of his total disregard for wealth. He would [19] nurse a sick man with all the tenderness of a woman, or kill a malcontent with the cold-bloodedness of a tiger. But travel, he must. His eyes ever turned toward the hills, as though he was wondering what was on the other side. A prospector had told them of Calico, and to Calico they had come, with not a drop of water nor a crumb of food left.
“The Lord must be looking out for us,” observed Duke Steele, as they herded their burro up the main street. ”

“ Slowly he came among them, peering into their faces, as though seeking someone, while they silently stared at him.
“Blood!” muttered Mica Cates, who was near Duke and the girl. “Blood and buzzards.”
Suddenly the Saint stopped. He was looking straight at Silver Sleed now, and Silver Sleed’s right hand held a cocked pistol at his hip, tensed, ready to fire. Then the Saint spoke:
“The trail ends here, Sleed Martin. It has been full of shadows, and I have only a memory—just [111] a memory. I want you, whom men call Silver Sleed. It may only be a nightmare, Martin, but it is real to me—now!” ”

“ There’s a bunch comin’ up from Cactus City tonight, and they might get rough. I can’t afford to have anything happen to my Luck.”
[70]
“They all know me,” said Luck quickly. “Nothing will harm me.”
Sleed shook his head.
“I—I dunno about that, Luck. If trouble started, nobody knows where bullets will hit.”
Luck brushed the hair away from her eyes and glanced down toward the quiet street.
“Everybody says that you own Calico, Dad. If you do, why don’t you stop the trouble? Does there have to be somebody killed every day? Isn’t there some way to stop men from fighting and killing each other?” ”

“ He wore his hair long, after the fashion of the time, and his clothes were a trifle extreme, but befitted his occupation and position as the richest and most [22] powerful man in the country. The law had never penetrated the Calico hills, so Silver Sleed set himself up as judge and arbiter, from which there was no appeal. In all cases which did not directly or indirectly affect himself or his interests, he was fair in his decisions.
The Silver Bar saloon was not a pretentious place, being one story high, built of adobe, but it was the largest building in Calico. ”

“ Stumbling along this trail came the crowd, or as many as dared to trust [114] this narrow pathway in the tricky moonlight until they reached the wide ledge which constituted the mouth of the Silver Shell.
“He’s bottled up,” cried a miner, “but it ain’t goin’ to help Sleed none!”
“There’s a cross-cut tunnel into the Kalura,” panted a newcomer. “He’ll find that. Watch the mouth of the Kalura, I tell yuh!”
The crowd ran back along the trail, until they could look up and beyond the crevice, where the Kalura workings opened out onto a much higher ledge. ”

“ You just ask for Silver Sleed over at the Silver Bar [21] saloon. ’S funny yuh never heard of Silver Sleed.”
“No doubt,” nodded the Saint. “Our sources of information appear very lax in not apprising us of this great personage. Still, it is never too late to meet the great. We both thank you, friend.”
The Saint turned the burro toward the front of the Silver Bar saloon, while their informant shuffled his feet in the gravel street and wondered whether or not the old patriarch was making fun of him. The Saint was not over fifty years of age, but looked seventy. ”

“ The Saint had split his winnings with Duke, and now Duke shoved the rest of the bills over to Sleed, taking chips in exchange. It was a small betting game, and the pots were uninteresting. Sleed covered a yawn with his hand, and Duke nodded, as though at a spoken word.
Duke smiled grimly as Sleed dealt the first card to each man. He shoved in part of a stack of chips, and Sleed covered the bet, [79] wondering why Duke made such a bet on a hole-card. The two miners passed, leaving Sleed and Duke to fight it out. Duke drew a king and Sleed a jack. ”

“ A gambler, who was religious as hell, saw him put up this here cross, so the gambler takes up a collection fer old Bill. I reckon he got a hundred dollars fer him, and after that old Bill packs a cross with him all the time and hopes for a killin’.”
Cates grinned and went on up the road. He was like a daily paper to Calico, and spent most of his time retailing news, picking up new items at each stop and telling hearsay as personal experience.
Duke Steele turned from watching Cates and saw Luck coming slowly down the trail [60] toward their adobe. ”

“ Duke drew his gun and stepped in closer to the wall, snuffing out one of the candles.
“I’ll open it,” he whispered, but Luck motioned him to stop.
“Who is it?” she called.
“Me—Mica Cates,” answered a muffled voice. “You paw asked me to find out if yuh was home.”
“I’m all right,” said Luck.
“I’ll tell him. They ain’t found them fellers yet, Luck; but they’re still huntin’. Your dad is willin’ to pay big for the man what gets ’em. Loper’s dead. Mendez and Fane are kinda bad, but mebbe they’ll live.” ”

“ I jus’ so good as Sleed, but Sleed has de money. Man got to live.”
“I reckon that’s it,” nodded Loper. “I never thought much about it before, Bill. I reckon any of us could more than hold his own against Sleed in a gun-fight, but he’s got the money. Anyway, I told him we’d take care of this for him.”
The three of them strolled to the doorway. Far out on the desert was a strip of gold, marking the last of the sunset, but Calico was already hazy with the evening light. The Saint and Duke Steele came out of the Alley and into the street, walking slowly toward the Silver Bar saloon. ”