Sandy
Arnold Ashford’s Journal Entry #22
When I rode into Dodge City, seems so long ago now; I heard the hushed voices talking about the ‘Fields’ Gang’. It was pretty obvious what that meant. Here in this much more foreign environment of Laredo, Texas, right on the Rio Grande and the Mexican border, it didn’t even cross my mind that these similarly hushed conversations about this “Perro Loco” were not about a something, but a someone.
As I did back in Abilene, I wanted to meet the local Lawman of the Town, and much like Abilene, the townsfolk seemed to have a genuine warmth toward him. Unlike the diminutive Rusty Cobb though, Carlos ‘Sandy’ Domingo was a tall, handsome, and charming man with an easy laugh and eyes that smiled. I first met him, oddly enough, in the local Saloon. He wasn’t stopping a fight or sorting out some trouble or other. No, Sandy was standing over by the piano…playing a trumpet.
Now I didn’t even know that this was the local Lawman at first; he and the piano player had such a natural rapport, I just assumed that they were the local entertainment. As I was conversing with the bartender and some locals, following up on the whispers of this thing called the Perro Loco, I asked about the local Lawman, and they pointed over toward the two musicians that were playing. I thought that perhaps something may have gotten lost in translation and restated my question, and again they pointed, more precisely this time at the trumpet player and just said, “Sandy. Es Sandy.”
It was then I noticed the badge on his chest, which had been obscured by his right arm holding up his trumpet. I waited until the song was done and made my way over to him to introduce myself. He smiled warmly at me, shook my hand firmly and looked me square in the eye, smiling all the while. And to my still surprise, his first words to me were, “Do you like jokes?”
— Check back next week for a new entry in Ashford’s journal —