Chapter 43
The Lucky Sluice

All that afternoon I walked around the town of Sonora.

After a while I got used to the rowdiness and the yelling and the horses running through the streets, and even the men talking to me and calling after me. I saw a few other women about who didn’t look like they belonged in a saloon, and that helped. And luckily there hadn’t been rain for a while, so the streets were dry instead of muddy.

I went into several stores, peeked over the swinging doors into a saloon or two, and got up my courage to go into two or three more of the town’s hotels to ask about the fellow named Gregory. I felt rather foolish just wandering about, and it didn’t seem like I was having much luck. Later on I saddled my horse and rode out of town.

I took a ride clear around through Jamestown, Rawhide, Shaw’s Flat, Springfield, and Columbia. I saw signs pointing off to Brown’s Flat, Squabbletown, Sawmill Flat, and Yankee Hill. I had no idea there were so many little towns and mining camps—though most of them were just a few buildings surrounded by claims up and down the streams. Once I got out of Sonora no one bothered me much. The men I passed would stare or watch to see where I was headed, but most of them were too intent on their work to mind me. All around were the sights and sounds of gold mining—men panning in the streams, mules laden down with equipment heading off the roads up toward the high country, the sounds of heavy equipment and dynamite and quartz machinery. It seemed that every square inch of this country was being dug up or mined by somebody!

Riding back to town, I decided that the only way to go about this search was to start at the beginning of Sonora and go to every hotel and boardinghouse and ask about Mr. Gregory. Then I’d go ask the sheriff. After that, I’d have to do the same things in whatever places there were in the little surrounding towns where he might be staying. I’d never find him just wandering about. There were thousands of people around here! I’d have to go to every lodging place one by one until I found where he was staying. At least by then I’d know for sure if he was in Sonora or not. If he wasn’t, then I’d be able to tell Mr. Kemble I’d done everything I knew to do.

I arrived back at Mrs. Nason’s just in time to unsaddle and put up my mare before supper. When I went in, Mrs. Nason introduced me to the others around the table, including her own husband who’d been out working their claim all day. Besides Mrs. Nason I was the only woman, but the men were all nice enough, although they spent most of their energy gulping down the biscuits, potatoes, roast beef, and cooked cabbage.

“She’s lookin’ fer a feller named Gregory,” said the landlady to her husband. “You ever heard o’ him, Jed?”

“Can’t say as I have,” the man answered. “What you want him for, Miss?”

It was the first time I’d been asked that, but I’d already planned out the answer to give.

“We’re in the same line of work,” I said. “And I need to ask him a few questions.”

“’Bout what? You look kinda young to be in any line o’ work in these parts. What do you do?”

“We’re in the newspaper business.”

This seemed to satisfy Mr. Nason. His wife’s expression didn’t look like she approved, but she hadn’t smiled once since I’d arrived, anyway.

Just then one of the other men at the table spoke up.

“There’s a Gregory over at the saloon, least he was a couple nights back. But he weren’t no newspaper man, I can tell ya. A shyster’s more like it! The guy took me for my whole two days’ worth of dust in an hour of five-card stud.”

“Where was that?” asked one of the other men.

“The Lucky Sluice.”

“The Lucky Deuce, you mean!” said the other. “They play a game of faro there with deuces countin’ triple and always goin’ to the player, if you lay down a double bet ahead of time. So if you hit it wrong, the house gets rich and you lose everything in a hurry. But they keep bringin’ the suckers in! I gave it up after losin’ my whole wad to ’em twice.”

“When was the last time you saw this man?” I asked.

“Couple nights ago, don’t remember exactly. I ain’t been back since.”

“Maybe I’ll go over there and see if he’s back,” I said.

“It gets mighty wild there, Miss,” said Mr. Nason. “You don’t want to be mixing with drinkin’ men, especially if they happen to be losin’ their gold at the same time.”

“Well, if it’s the man I’m looking for, he’s not a miner, so I won’t have to worry about that. And as for the drinking, I reckon I’ll just get my business done and get out before anything rough gets started.”

Nobody said anything else. None of them seemed to think I was too smart to think of walking into a saloon alone. But on the other hand, they didn’t seem to care that much either way. Sonora was the kind of place, I guess, where folks were in the habit of doing whatever they pleased, and where everyone else minded their own business.

After supper I went out to the barn. I was about to saddle up my horse when I remembered Mrs. Nason’s words about the stealing that went on around here. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to tie the horse on the main street of Sonora at night. I decided to walk up to the middle of town instead.

Even while I was still a block away, I heard the laughing and yelling and music coming out of the Lucky Sluice. There weren’t many people out. I’m sure all the respectable people were in their homes—if there were very many of those in this town!—and the rest were already inside the brightly lit saloons.

When I got to the double swinging doors of the Lucky Sluice, I took in a deep breath, breathed a silent prayer, and, trying to hide my shaking knees, pushed through the doors and walked inside.

I was dressed in denim breeches and a man’s flannel shirt, and most of the men were absorbed at the dozen or so card tables, so I didn’t attract too much attention at first. If I had, I probably would have turned back around and run right out! Against the right wall a man was playing lively music on a piano, and a few women in short, bright-colored dresses were lounging about and talking with some of the men.

I walked straight to the bar, ignoring the few heads that turned and watched me. The big burly man behind it walked toward me, still finishing something he was saying to somebody else. When he looked down at me, surprise showed on his face, and I think he might have been about ready to throw me out because of how young I looked. But I didn’t give him the chance.

“I’m looking for a man named Gregory,” I said quickly. “I was told he might be here.”

The bartender stared at me like he might still be thinking of throwing me out. Nobody in this town did much smiling, but they sure stared a lot! Maybe I was funnier looking or more out-of-place looking than I realized.

But finally he turned his head and shouted off toward a table near the piano, “Hey, Hap, that friend o’ yers from Frisco here tonight?”

“Naw . . . who wants t’ know?”

“Little lady here’s askin’ fer him.”

The man named Hap sat up in his chair and looked in our direction. If I’d hoped to be inconspicuous, there was no chance of that now! The rest of the men he was playing cards with glanced up too, and a round of whistles and catcalls followed. But I tried not to pay any attention to them.

“I’m afraid yer luck’s done run out, Miss,” said Hap. “Derrick lit off fer Chinese Camp yesterday. But maybe I can help ya out, Miss,” he added with a smile, and a wink at his friends. “I’m better lookin’ than him by a dang sight!”

“Can you tell me where I might find him?” I asked.

“Try Shanghai Slim’s at Chinese Camp, or else he might be stayin’ at old lady Buford’s place in Jacksonville.”

“Is that a boardinghouse?”

“You can call it what ya want, Miss. Derrick’s called it worse things than that! But if ya mean a place where a body can get a bed an’ a meal, then that’s what it is.”

“Thank you kindly,” I said, nodding toward him and the bartender. Then I turned and walked out as fast as I could!

I went back to Mrs. Nason’s. I’d paid for the night, and it was nearly dark and much too late to think of doing anything else. I’d head south to Jacksonville in the morning. I had no way of knowing if Hap was talking about the same man as I was trying to track down. But the bartender did say Gregory was from San Francisco, and that’s where the Globe was. So I figured I ought to follow the lead and see what came of it.