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Updated: May 13, 2025
Saguache, wide open for the occasion, was already brisk with an assorted population of many races. Mexicans, Chinese, Indians of various tribes brushed shoulders with miners, tourists and cattlemen. Inside the saloons faro, chuckaluck and roulette attracted each its devotees. Flandrau sauntered back to the hotel on the lookout for Sam.
Fifty others had warned the young man to be careful. For Saguache was with him almost to a man. Dick Maloney heard his voice called as he was passing the grandstand, A minute later he was in the Cullison box shaking hands with Kate. "Is is there anything new?" she asked in a low voice. Her friend shook his head. "No. Soapy may drift out here any minute now."
There was a telegraph line to San Louis Obispo, but no coast line railroad nearer than Paso Robles Hot Springs, sixty miles inland. It would be three days before there was another steamer for San Francisco. She felt that if she waited the suspense would kill her. She must go to Saguache.
"Read that right ahead." Dick did not quite get the idea, but Kate, tense with excitement, took the envelope and read aloud. "Luck prisoner Jack of Hearts now Saguache locked up pending a disposition of his case succeeded in surprising him." She looked up with shining eyes. "He tells us everything but the names of the people who did it. Perhaps somewhere else in the paper he may tell that too."
After reaching town the first thing each of them did was to take a bath, the second to get shaved. From the barber shop they went to the best restaurant in Saguache. Curly was still busy with his pie
"Nope," he answered, hammering down a rivet. Kate called up the hotel where Maloney was staying at Saguache, but could not get him. She tried the Del Mar, where her father and his friends always put up when in town. She asked in turn for Mackenzie, for Yesler, for Alec Flandrau. While she waited for an answer, the girl moved nervously about the room.
The reporter had run the story to a column, but the leading paragraph gave the gist of it: While the citizens of Saguache were peacefully sleeping last night, a lone bandit held up the messengers of the Western and Southern Express Company, and relieved them of $20,000 just received from El Paso on the Flyer.
Lute had found a job, he said. "That a paper sticking out of your pocket?" Flandrau asked. Soapy, still astride his horse, tossed the Saguache Sentinel to him as he turned toward the stable. "Lie number one nailed," Curly said to himself. "How came he with a Saguache paper if he's been to Mesa?" Caught between the folds of the paper was a railroad time table.
I shall wait now until I have an escort." "Ah my name is Carson Jack Carson. I was going to Saguache to see Mr. Amos, the assayer, to have him test a jug handle, er, that is, to have the jug handle test him. I don't mean that; I mean our mine is named the Jug Handle, I will get it right after awhile, and I want him to make a test of the ore."
Under Number 4's time was scrawled, just below Saguache, the word Tin Cup, and opposite it the figures 10:19. The express was due to leave Saguache at 9:57 in the evening. From there it pushed up to the divide and slid down with air brakes set to Tin Cup three thousand feet lower. Soapy could not want to catch the train fifteen miles the other side of Saguache.
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