Pulp - Adventure.19.04.01.Evidence - Gordon Young (pdf)

  Adventure 1st April, 1919

  T TOOK but little evidence to hang a man

  or when he met her again and again. Secretive in the early Californian days; and when

  and strange, she was. Scarcely less so was he.

  I that evidence came from a woman—it was He never mentioned her to any one, not even fatal.

  to his partner. Theirs was a secret, an idyll in Castle Rock was a typical mining-town

  the midst of rough-handed, rough-tongued,

  as mining-towns went in the fifties: a bunch of gold-gouging miners. He loved her. He

  shacks in a remote gulch, and a saloon for

  understood her. And she—she loved him as a

  every hundred inhabitants, and Greg woman does only when she has reached the Sanderson drinking more than his share.

  top years of maidenhood without suspecting

  Jack Stevens was not a typical miner.

  that there is in the world such a thing as love.

  He was a young fellow drawn Westward by

  All the vague dreams of her life took shape

  the rush; a quiet and gentle young man, and

  and came to reality in his arms.

  his partner accused him of being “educated.”

  Then Greg Sanderson, suspicious,

  Chris Barlow was a rugged old miner and

  jealous, partly drunk, waited and shot Jack

  loved Jack as a son.

  Stevens as he was walking in the twilight after Nor was Frankie Alden a typical an afternoon with her; and she, poised upon a woman of the camps. Her father called her

  rock to follow his form with her eyes, saw.

  “strange,” and much of the time she did seem

  She did not know who the murderer was. That

  preoccupied, as though listening to soundless is, she did not actually know. She screamed.

  voices, as though gazing at invisible shapes.

  Sanderson ran.

  Often, very often, she wandered alone to some Jack Stevens was dead. She crouched

  shaded, rocky place and sat the afternoon and in tears over his body and took no count of

  evening out.

  time. No thought of rousing the camp came to

  No one knew that she was trying to

  her. He whom she loved was dead: the bullet

  avoid Greg Sanderson; nor did she ever tell

  that entered his heart had, though it touched Jack Stevens when first he chanced upon her,

  no blood of hers, given her a wound that left

  Adventure

  2

  her stunned, a wound that would never heal

  days.

  into so much as a scar.

  Few, incalculably few, were, they who

  Sanderson thought he had been did not idle an hour at the monte table and recognized. He was a deadly gunman and not

  soon find themselves plunging crazily with

  without nerve. He mounted and rode from the

  their fortunes tremulously balanced on the

  camp; and behind him he left the warning that turn of a card. And who came to San

  if pursuers came after him his trail would be Francisco at some hour of the night stopped in made plain by the dead men he left in it. He

  at the El Dorado, where a band played and

  rode unmolested from sight. Later Barlow women sang, and women dealt monte, and took the trail, Barlow and another man. In the where for some months there had been a

  morning others followed. They found the body

  monte-dealer who wore a mask.

  of Barlow and the friend; and no other sign of Greg Sanderson lonesomely drank at

  Sanderson. He rode away and Castle Rock

  the bar. He might easily have made friends

  heard of him no more.

  with fellows to the right and left; but he was The day after the funerals—all were

  not in a convivial mood. He knew his

  buried together-Frankie Alden disappeared. weakness was gambling and drink, and he She was not heard from again in Castle Rock;

  carried a fortune on him. In two days he

  but then. Castle Rock did not long remain a

  would sail for New York and he wanted to

  camp. Three months later men had begun to

  carry it with him. He drank alone—again—

  say it was worked out. Besides, just over the again. Midnight was far away. There was

  range another strike had been made where, so

  nothing to do but drink and gamble. After all it was said, nuggets large as men’s heads were he could pass a few, hours cautiously, playing.

  easily found. Almost overnight what had been

  a thriving and populous camp at Castle Rock

  SANDERSON made his way to a monte table.

  vanished. A few shreds of muslin and canvas,

  There was a crowd about it. There was always

  the dusty trails that had been streets and roads, a crowd about that table, and the betting was and heaps of tin cans, were all that remained unusually heavy. The woman who dealt wore

  to mark the place.

  a mask. It was said that no man had seen her

  Greg Sanderson rode north, lingered in

  face, but that was not so. What is more, her

  one camp and another for some months, tried

  name was well known to the management and

  his pick in various diggings, struck a seam of employees of the El Dorado, but they

  pure gold in a river-bed and washed out pretended ignorance. The mystery made her twenty thousand dollars in a fortnight. He

  table the more popular. Besides, enough of her turned southward and took the steamer from

  face was visible for men to tell that she was Sacramento for San Francisco. He had made

  beautiful.

  his pile. He was Eastward-bound. San

  Her fingers were slender, strong and

  Francisco was—and still is—the siren of the

  white—beautiful fingers, nimble and accurate.

  West. Eventually every man that came into

  Every night she soaked her hands in hot water.

  California came there. Those bound East with

  She had done so for months: it gave the

  fortunes in their pouches often had to wait for fingers a suppleness and speed that could

  sailing dates, too, there was drinking and elude the keenest eyes, and she lived with dancing and gambling: a dithyramb of robust

  ’Nita Joyce. ’Nita was the shrewdest monte-

  vice whirled through a hundred doors and

  dealer on the coast, and what ’Nita knew she

  lured the wayfarers as the fatal singers of the had taught this strange, beautiful girl who

  ocean rocks lured sailormen in the Homeric

  spent every possible minute in practicing the

  Evidence

  3

  handling of the cards. A Spanish deck—the

  bunk” that would either seduce or irritate the monte deck—is easier to manipulate than the

  very cautious player into recklessness.

  other. There are fewer cards in it.

  “I think I’ll ride with you,” said Billy

  The masked dealer caught sight of when he had eased himself into a position by Sanderson when he reached past those nearest

  Sanderson’s side. “You look lucky to me.” He

  the table and placed his bet. She always had complimented Sanderson in the way that a scanned each newcomer’s face. If she had<
br />
  gambler likes to be complimented, by placing

  been watched closely night after night it might heavy bets on the cards Sanderson, with small have seemed that she waited, waited bets, picked to win.

  inexorably, for the one man whom she knew

  And win they did. The first thing

  the god of vengeance would not let escape her.

  Sanderson realized was that this flat-nosed

  And for month on end she had practiced with

  little gambler was getting rich by following

  the cards; to ruin him when he came.

  his, Sanderson’s hunches. He increased his

  After that—well, torture first, then own bet and won. Encouraged, he plunged.

  somehow he must die. Away off in the His winnings were swept from him. He mountains there was a grave: her heart was

  doubled to even—and lost. He doubled again,

  buried there. It would be of no use to accuse and lost.

  him to the San Francisco authorities of the

  “I’m offen you,” said Billy. “You’re a

  murder in far-away Castle Rock. That mining-

  —— Jonah,” Sanderson growled.

  camp was no more. All witnesses were

  “Am I now!” and Billy coppered

  scattered to the four winds.

  Sanderson’s bet, and Sanderson lost again.

  She dealt mechanically; and then when

  It was unheard of, this four-time

  shuffling the deck for a new layout whispered losing. It wasn’t unheard of, of course, but one to one of the house men. He went away and

  of the idiocies of gambling is that the man

  came back with a glass of water, but in the

  who has lost the first bet thinks the chances of meantime he had found opportunity to carry

  winning the second are increased; and that the her message to Billy Reach, one of the law of chance is almost bound to give him a cappers. A capper is a fellow employed in

  winning on the fifth bet if he has lost the four gambling-houses to buck the house, to bet big previous. Sanderson had watched the dealer’s

  money by way of example, to get others to

  fingers closely and was satisfied that she was loosen up; and also to bait and encourage the dealing straight. He placed a heavier bet than players around him so that they will plunge

  ever—and lost.

  recklessly. All that the capper wins is secretly He was now in so deep that he could

  refunded to the bank.

  not quit. He had to win it back or he wouldn’t Billy was a dapper little man, really

  have much of a fortune to carry to the States nothing more than a tin-horn though he loved

  with him. So he sat himself down to

  the pose of a plunger. People rather liked him.

  determined, cautious playing. He placed a

  He was good-natured and harmless; wore piker bet for the sixth venture and, of course, flashy clothes and had a swagger; also a large won.

  brilliant on his left hand and another on his His nerve was shaken. He bet small

  shirt bosom. That these were glass did not

  again and won; and the third small bet won.

  interfere with his satisfaction in them since the Then he became apprehensive lest after three

  miners and familiars of the El Dorado could

  straight winnings he was due to lose; and so

  scarcely distinguish glass from diamonds. he was afraid to plunge.

  Billy also had what is now called a “line of

  Seven times straight he won, and had

  Adventure

  4

  not recouped the loss of one large bet. He was him to strut about, stand drinks and receive

  the more exasperated because Billy Reed had

  congratulations from the envious who never

  been quick to veer his bets and ride to further dreamed that he was a capper.

  winnings on Sanderson’s new run of luck.

  Frankie Alden, exhausted by the strain,

  Sanderson determinedly placed a small bet for by the tenseness of dealing and watching,

  the eighth tune. The problematical chance of

  arose from the table. Another girl took her

  winning eight times in succession is small—

  place. For a moment Frankie stood staring

  but the law of mathematics doesn’t rule luck.

  toward the bar where Sanderson was taking a

  He won.

  drink with those about Billy Reed. She carried Men to right and men to the left made

  a derringer inside her waist, and always she

  sarcastic comment on such nerveless playing.

  had intended to shoot. But now to shoot would The crowd hates a piker. Under pressure of the seem a land of anti-climax. She went to her

  contempt of those about him, and fully room, undressed, got into bed to think. ’Nita exasperated, Sanderson plunged once more—

  came in soon after. It was not one o’clock. She and lost. He plunged again and lost. Again and wanted to confide in ’Nita, but the pretty little lost. Billy Reed continued to plunge and win.

  card-sharper was a bit tipsy, gay, noisy, and in The girl behind the mask dealt slowly,

  no mood to be serious.

  watchfully. It was remarkable how slowly she

  dealt—and a slow dealer is never crooked.

  THE NEXT morning, early, there was

  Many noticed, but Sanderson not at all, that

  banging on the door. Cliff Howard, the El

  her eyes were steadily on his face. It gave the Dorado gunman—a decent fellow for all of his

  more observant players the thrill of a drama to reputation and the nature of his work—

  see how steadily from the holes of the mask

  aroused the girls. Billy Reed had been

  those bright dark eyes peered with sibylline

  murdered and robbed. His pouch and

  intensity at Sanderson’s strained, haggard diamonds were gone. Did either of them know face.

  of any enemies Billy had? Of anybody who

  “She’s worn that mask for him—and

  might have done it? Howard—a man of his

  waited!” said one young man of sensitive word-—said that the murderer would be perception to a friend.

  strung up or shot if he had to do it himself,

  “You

  mean——”

  alone. Billy Reed was popular in that curious

  “Not necessarily. When a woman’s way that fellows whom other men do not eyes look like that I don’t believe she has to really admire and think a little preposterous, cheat. She has too much faith in the justice of are often popular—especially posthumously.

  God!”

  “Greg Sanderson—the man that

  A strange thing to be said in a dropped his dust bag at my table!” Frankie gambling-house, perhaps; but true. She was

  cried.

  letting the cards run as they would. By

  “Barkin’ up the wrong tree,” said

  midnight Sanderson was broke. Gold-dust and

  Howard a little disappointedly. “He was

  certificates to the amount of twenty thousand Chummy with Billy, and I figured that him,

  dollars has slipped from his hand across the

  not knowing Billy was a capper, might ’ve

  table—and most of it had come back again

  laid for him. Me and two or three more went

  into the hands of Billy Reed.

  over already an had a talk with the fellow.

  Reed quietly, secretly, returned; his He’s got witnesses to show he wasn’t alone winnings to the house and received his with Billy no time.”

  commission; and this was good enough for

  Frankie did not hesitate, but her face

  Evidence

  5

  was
flushed as though with a kind of even though at times it would have been passionate earnestness as she cried again: “But suicidal for that jury to report, “Not guilty.”

  I saw them alone. I was out late. I saw them-in Half-hours slipped by. The girls were dead for the square. I heard Sanderson ask for a loan.

  sleep, and in spite of the tenseness, the

  Around—it must ’ve been after two o’clock!”

  excitement, dozed slightly.

  “You did “ Howard shouted. “That

  Then again the loud rapping and Cliff

  settles it. We’ll search that fellow good.” And Howard entered. He was calm. He spoke

  he bounded away.

  ’Nita looked at her in

  quietly, with a touch of grimness.

  amazement, in a daze.

  “You were right, Frankie. I pounced

  “Frankie, are you crazy? You weren’t

  him and went through his duds. Found Billy’s

  out of this room last night—after one o’clock.’

  glassware on him. The pouch too. He caved

  And they’ll hang that fellow—just your word!

  in. Said he had slipped out of his window after You must ——”

  goin’ to bed and had laid for Billy. Couldn’t But Frankie flung her story out with

  imagine how we got on to him. Told him one

  hot lips. Perhaps Sanderson did not kill Billy of our girls saw him in the square—heard him

  Reed, but he had coldly murdered Jack ask for a loan of Billy. Said you were a liar, Stevens-—and other men, too—and if he Frankie. Funny thing, though. I said from the wasn’t hanged she herself would search him

  evidence we got it don’t appear to me that

  out and shoot him! She ought to have shot him Frankie Alden lied. God, he crumpled! Just

  when first she saw him. He ought to be like that.

  hanged. She would gladly give her soul to

  “‘Frankie Alden,’ he says. I said,

  God to judge because of the lie: Greg ‘Yes—the monte-dealer that cleaned you!’

  Sanderson was a murderer, and die he must if

  “Not another word out of him till just