the Sackett Companion (1992)

by L'amour, Louis

  GINERY WOOSTER: A somewhat fat, gray-haired man, his hair thinning. He took the news to the Sacketts that a Sackett girl left the steamboat at the mouth of the Big Sandy and seemed to be in trouble.

  SIDELONG OR SIDELING HILL: In the Tuscaroras of Pennsylvania. A steep and difficult hill in those years.

  NOBLE'S TAVERN: A well-known stopping place on the westward route in Pennsylvania.

  GINSENG: A most valuable herb; tea has been made from its leaves but it was the root that was most eagerly sought. In China it is the most valued herb, considered an aphrodisiac. From the time it was first discovered in the eastern mountains it has been hunted for use and for profit.

  BIG SANDY: A tributary of the Ohio River, and at the time it was Indian country. The red man loved it and with reason, for there was plenty of game, and there were salt licks. The Levisa Fork was especially attractive. Most of the tall hats worn by the grenadiers of Napoleon were made from bear skins taken along the Big Sandy and the Levisa. The skins were taken down the river to New Orleans and shipped to France.

  There were fine forests there, and some beautiful valleys, loved by the Indians and by those who replaced them.

  CLINGMAN'S DOME: One of the highest peaks in the Smoky Mountains, over sixty-six hundred feet. A noted landmark.

  SILER'S BALD: Roughly four miles west of the Dome and 1,000 feet less in altitude, it is a difficult climb over slippery rocks for a part of the way. It has a beautiful growth of rhododendrons, and a superb view toward North Carolina, if the weather is clear.

  MORDECAI SACKETT: A long hunter, a man of the woods, rarely seeing other people, living off the country. Occasionally he visited his people, then was gone again for months, nobody knew where. Perhaps the most dangerous of all the Sacketts, friendly to the Indians, wise in the ways of birds and animals, living among them but leaving no traces behind. A man with no need for any of the things upon which most people base their lives. He still used the wild, wavering cry adopted by the first of the Clinch Mountain Sacketts when they discovered how far such a cry could be heard when in the mountains.

  TRULOVE SACKETT: A big man, roughly handsome, a hand-logger and hunter. Skilled at handling unwieldy logs in rough country. From trial and error and much work alone he had learned how to use leverage and balance and many sleights in getting his logs to rivers where they could be floated down stream. Much of his logging was for special timbers, huge maples and oaks that were fine timber for the making of furniture. For years, since he was a small boy, he had been roaming the forest and knew where to find the kind of logs he wanted. Wherever he went he was studying not only where the right timber could be found but how to get it to water where it could be floated. Some of the huge logs were immensely valuable in themselves, eagerly sought after by builders of fine panels or furniture.

  He, Mordecai, and Macon exchanged ideas and information, and the other Sacketts, woodsmen all, added what they discovered to the total of their knowledge of timber land and forest. Meeting occasionally, they could talk with knowledge of the mountain areas.

  Often, returning to his cabin after an absence Trulove would discover on his table a crudely drawn map on birchbark showing him where a fine maple had been seen, or a stand of chestnut still untouched by blight.

  The wilderness, be it desert, plains or forest, will take care of man, if man will but care for it. There is beauty there, but there is life, and a living for many, but there is death, too, if one becomes too casual. The wilderness is waiting, but one must live with it, and not against it.

  If we strip away the forests, man will die, and the wild life will die. Man needs the forest, for it gives us the oxygen by which we survive. It cleanses the air we breathe so we can breathe, it removes impurities and leaves the air clear for far-seeing men.

  And that is what we need, what we need desperately, those far-seeing men.

  How small a man are you? Or how big?

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  THE DAYBREAKERS

  First publication: Bantam Books paperback, February, 1960

  Narrator: Tyrel Sackett Time Period: c. 1870--1872

  This is the story of Tyrel and Orrin Sackett, who went west after the War Between the States, and what happened to them in that new land where they went to find a home for Ma. Somehow, Tyrel believed, Ma figured if she was west she would somehow be closer to Pa, who died or was killed out there a long time ago.

  There were stories in the family, too, of another of them; Jubal Sackett to be exact, who had gone west away back before anybody else. They had heard stories that he married an Indian girl out there and had been trading with Spanish folks, but that was all a flimsy rumor from an Indian who told another Indian. Orrin was fixing to get married when trouble came. The trouble was Long Higgins. Now they'd fought and feuded with the Higginses for quite a spell, and good, tough men they were, and they salted away some good Sackett men before they tapered them down to size. Long, he was the mean one. He knew Orrin was shapin' up to marry and figured he'd not be armed. What he didn't figure on was Tyrel.

  So when they buried Long Higgins Tyrel had nothing to do but get out of there because the law was Ollie Shaddock and Tyrel did not want to confront him. Away back somewhere Shaddock and the Sacketts were kinfolk. The Sacketts feuded some but never faced up to the law.

  "Pa taught us respect for the law so I hit the trail for the western lands."

  Those last words were Tyrel himself speaking, but Orrin had started west, too, and not far behind him, for Long Hig-gms's bullet had killed Mary Tripp, the woman who was to be his wife. Without her, he figured why not go, and started west following Tyrel, and trying to catch up.

  What happened after that the stories will tell you, but it was what was happening to many men headed west. Most of them weren't holding anything. I mean they didn't have cash money, so they tied their rope on the first job that showed ^self, no matter what the brand, so long as it was honest.

  Their first job was driving cattle, and living in the mountains since they were boys, they'd herded cows from time to time, and even flocks of turkeys and sometimes hogs. Back yonder whatever they had to sell had to get to market on its own legs. A body can pack only so much. Driving cattle was easy enough after what they'd been doing. Learning to rope was something else, but all their lives they had been adapting themselves to work of one kind or another. They learned quickly.

  CAP ROUNTREE: He looked as old as the mountains around him and just as tough. He'd been over the Santa Fe Trail as a boy, had trapped for fur, hunted buffalo, and prospected some. He'd been up the creek and over the mountain, probably all of them. He had lived through border troubles, Indian fights, and whatever was happening where he was. He had lived with the Sioux and the Nez Perce. He never looked for trouble but he could handle it.

  TOM SUNDAY: Foreman for Belden when he met the Sacketts, a disbarred lawyer who had killed man in a gun duel in Louisiana and gone to prison for it. Well-educated, and a gentleman born, but the years had used him hard. Very good with a gun. A man going west to begin again, to find a place for himself in the political life of the West where it did not matter what you had been or had done, but only that you did your part wherever you were and could stand the rough going. It was what you did now that mattered, and what you were now. Too many men had pasts they had ridden away from but the West was a place to start over.

  ORRIN SACKETT: Six years older than Tyrel; a handsome man with a fine speaking and singing voice, appealing to women. He liked people, mixed well, and had a way with words. He decided to study law, partly inspired by Tom Sunday, and to enter politics. He wanted a home of his own, and deeply regretted the loss of Mary Tripp, a childhood sweetheart who had died for him.

  TYREL SACKETT: You had to push to start a fight with Orrin, but not with Tyrel. Boyish in appearance, although lean and dark as Sacketts were inclined to be, there was something cold and still inside him when trouble started. Never wanting trouble, he had grown up in the midst of a feud and the bushwha
cking guerrillas of the Civil War period, and he was ready, always ready. The Sacketts had been raised to respect the law, God, and their country, as well as the equal rights of others.

  REED CARNEY: He wanted to be known as a gunfighter; he believed he was a tough man. He swaggered a little, chose the company of men he thought were tough, and some of them were. It was easy to fantasize, easy to imagine. Then the day came when suddenly he was faced with the harsh reality. That despised "farmer," as he called him, was facing him in the street, and he had a gun, too, and he was obviously ready, so very, very ready. Suddenly, the fantasy turned grim. The street was dusty, hot, and he was alone. Now he had it to do, but he was going to be shot at, perhaps killed. His mouth was dry and his knees felt like water. Suddenly he wanted to be away, far away, he wanted to be anywhere but here. Tyrel Sackett was letting him off the hook, he was getting a break, but should he? Was being known as a dangerous man worth the danger?

  DON LUIS ALVARADO: A Spanish gentleman, ranching in New Mexico. A man who wanted only peace and time to develop his ranch and raise better cattle.

  DRUSILLA ALVARADO: Don Luis's daughter, and a girl who knew a good man when she saw one, even though he was not of her blood or her kind, not even of her religion.

  MARTIN BRADY: A saloon-keeper, a man willing to murder or to have a man murdered, a man who changed because of what he saw in another man. His kind, too, helped to open the West, to blaze the trails and to open a business, even if it was a crooked one. But his kind did not last unless they changed with the times, as Martin Brady was to change.

  CHICO CRUZ: Dangerous as a coiled rattler and just as remorseless, a man tight as a coiled spring and with a streak of madness in him.

  JONATHAN PRITTS: A man with great pride in himself and a contempt for others. He had come west with the idea of taking land from the Spanish who owned most of the grants. He intended to do this by political means if possible, by force if necessary, yet as the moment neared he thought less and less of politics and more of guns. Wealth came slowly in the East, and men of older families held the offices he craved. In the West, it seemed, a strong man might take what he wanted. The Spanish he believed were to be dispossessed and he planned to be the first in line. He had prepared his political situation very well before going west and was sure that once in the saddle all would go well. He was used to using men; the trouble was that the Sacketts were not there to be used.

  LAURA PRITTS: Jonathan's daughter, a beautiful girl at first sight; at closer range, less beautiful. But she was a city girl from a background Orrin had never seen. It was as Tyrel had warned. He was seeing his dream, not the girl who was really there. She thought her father was the greatest of men, and wished to see him succeed in his endeavors, which he had convinced her were right and just. She despised the Spanish, the Indians, and most of the Anglo citizens, whom she considered trash. At first, she was much taken with Orrin, a handsome, dynamic man, but even in this she was influenced by her father's wishes.

  OLLIE SHADDOCK: From Tennessee; distant relative by marriage of the Sacketts; briefly an officer of the law in Tennessee.

  DROVER'S COTTAGE: A restaurant in Abilene well-known all up and down the trail; a place for the big cattlemen to gather after cattle sales. Served excellent food; often as good as could be had in any big city cafe or hotel.

  FETTERSON: A very tough man, rider for Jonathan Pritts, and his second-in-command, holding the job Pritts had planned for Orrin Sackett. Not above hiring a killing for Pritts, he could do his own shooting when need be. A tall, blond man with a twisted look to his mouth caused by an old scar.

  SANDY: One of three who wanted to kill the wounded Miguel, and fancied himself as a gunfighter until he caught two slugs from Tyrel Sackett. He didn't last long enough to realize his mistake.

  BACK RAND: A would-be herdcutter who lived beyond expectation because one of the men riding with him was Aiken, from the Tennessee Mountains, who recognized Tyrel Sackett. Back Rand decided not to try cutting the herd.

  JUAN TORRES: Foreman for Alvarado; a good man, wise in the ways of range cattle and horses. Jonathan Pritts wanted him dead.

  BULLY BEN BAKER: A former keelboat man, a brawler and a tough, skeptical of Orrin Sackett, the new marshal. Some men took a lot of convincing.

  CERAN ST. VRAIN: A former mountain man, trapper, and associate of Kit Carson. Highly respected in Mora, Santa Fe, and by all who knew him. An historical personage.

  VINCENTE ROMERO: Another distinguished citizen; well-known, well-liked, equally respected in both Spanish and Anglo communities.

  ANTONIO BACA: One of Alvarado's men but one with no liking for Tyrel Sackett, and jealous of his relationship with Drusilla.

  The Sacketts brought their mother west and found a home for her in the new lands where life would be easier and where her family would not be far away. Somewhere in those southern Rockies was where her beloved husband had disappeared, and she felt closer to him in Mora (New Mexico--see page 111).

  In most western communities, whether in mining or cattle country, there was a beginning when the country and the towns themselves were rough and wild, but not long after the first saloon and general store a church would be built, and then a school. The shootings, when they took place, were usually on the wrong side of town and interfered but little in the daily life of its most reputable citizens. And the shootings were a passing phase, a time of growing up, of shaking down, of getting the country settled, and the wild bunch either reformed or found their places on Boot Hill.

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  SACKETT

  First publication: Bantam Books paperback, May 1961 Narrator: William Tell Sackett Time Period: c. 1874--1875

  In which William Tell Sackett finds a trail unlike any trail he had ever seen before, and he follows it to gold and a girl, in that order. Other'men come to claim the gold but not to mine it. They come to cheat and steal, to reap the benefits without enduring the hard labor and the sweat needed to bring it from the ground.

  If one rides the Durango to Silverton Railroad, as many do these days, he will find himself winding through a narrow and picturesque gorge with towering peaks above the rushing waters of the Animas River below or alongside. Waterfalls will tumble over the rocks beside the train and occasionally deer will be seen. Every bend of the track will offer some new insight into the West as it was, for the gorge can only be reached by the narrow-gauge train or a helicopter. Unless, of course, one wishes to hike in.

  When nearing the end of the trip through the canyon one comes to Needleton. There some will leave the train to back-pack through the Chicago Basin and over Columbine Pass into Vallecito Canyon. The scene of most of the events of this story take place in the upper Vallecito, above Johnson Creek.

  Today that train is loaded with tourists seeing the canyon and visiting Silverton at the end of the run. Many years ago, when I first made the trip, it was aboard a mixed train carrying a few passengers, a couple of cars of freight, and I believe at least one flatcar, but of that I cannot be sure. It was long ago and I had no particular reason to notice. I was riding the train to Silverton with the idea that I might obtain a job >>n one of the mines. I had no such luck, but on the return trip we left the train at Needleton, and back-packed through Uiicago Basin and over Columbine Pass. If I recall correctly there were several prospects in the Basin being worked at the time.

  Only a week or ten days before I'd been paid off at the mme where my friend and I had worked together. He was a machineman, I was a mucker and trammer, and I had some money, I believe something over two hundred dollars, so there was no pressing need that I go back to work.

  Once arrived at his claim I helped a little with the assessment work but most of the time was spent in hiking around the country. My friend was in no hurry, either, working a little and loafing about enjoying the warm afternoon sun, the fishing and the mountains.

  If memory serves there were two or three men holed up at Logtown but we saw little of them. Most of the time I hiked
the mountains, climbing into some relatively inaccessible places, spots I would eventually write about in SACKETT.

  Aside from Vallecito Canyon I prowled around Mt. Oso, Irving Peak, Half Moon, and Hidden Lakes. Much of it was rugged travel but I'd always liked high mountain country and this was my first opportunity to really indulge myself. Before I had been working for somebody or under the necessity to get someplace. Much of the time I did not know exactly where I was, only where camp was, and several times I stayed out all night because it was easier to hole up in some cave, overhang, or under a fallen tree than to hike back to camp. My friend was not a worrier and for all I knew he didn't give a damn.

  What I refer to in the story as the ghost lake was just a large pool of melted snow-water, probably only inches deep, but I never checked to find out. Several times I saw bears, one digging for a marmot, another turning over dead logs to look for grubs or whatever. I had good binoculars with me that I'd borrowed from my friend, and often I'd sit for a half hour or so just studying the country, watching the animals, and seeking out trails or possible routes. However, in that high country, as in many such places, following trails was always good business. Somebody had gone that way, and if it was worn, many people had, so it was possible. Many routes that seem good end in steep drop-offs and one has to climb all the way back. If there is a trail, stay with it. That's my advice. Look around if you like but when you move on, stick to the trail.