“I see nothing,” Colon said.
James looked disappointed. “I thought I saw…”
Cory mounted, touched James on the shoulder. “He’ll catch up. Don’t worry.”
“It’s just been too soon,” James said. “I don’t want to lose another brother…you know?”
“No,” Cory said, “I don’t…but I think I can imagine.”
“It would be better to keep moving,” Colon said.
“James?” Cory said.
Reluctantly, James dragged his eyes from the horizon behind them. “Yes,” he said. “Okay, let’s go.”
Thomas was back on the trail, only this time he was tracking his own brother. The trail was fresh, though, and he was moving much faster than they were. He expected to catch up to them in a matter of hours, even if he had to keep riding after they camped, or if they reached the town of Blue Mesa.
Alone with his thoughts during his ride, he couldn’t help but wonder about his father. To this day they still had not talked about what had happened between Thomas and Ethan Langer. He knew his father was disappointed that he hadn’t killed Langer—rather than crippling him and sending him to prison—and sometimes, when he caught Dan Shaye looking at him, he felt guilty. He’d told his father that he thought killing Ethan Langer would have been too easy, and would have put the man out of his misery. That way, Langer was a cripple, was in prison, and was still haunted in his dreams by Mary Shaye. But either he hadn’t done a good job explaining or his father didn’t want to listen, or both. Now, if they could talk again, maybe he’d be able to get his father to understand.
Thomas thought he’d been doing too much drinking on the wrong side of town. When this was all over, he was going to try to make his father listen to what he had to say. Their relationship was not going to change—for the better—unless they faced what had happened with Ethan Langer and talked about it.
Daniel Shaye was questioning whether upholding the law was something he still wanted to do. It had already cost him a wife and one son. Now he had sent two more sons out wearing badges like targets on their chests. Plus, he himself had been shot two years in a row.
What else was he fit to do? In his entire life he’d been on one side of the law or the other. He was over fifty. Could he settle down someplace and be a storekeeper? A rancher? He didn’t know anything about either.
But what about his sons? James was smart—very smart. If he went back to school, Shaye thought he had the makings of a good lawyer. Maybe a doctor. He had potential, he just needed seasoning for it to blossom.
Thomas was different. He had talent with a gun, and he’d already used it to kill men. Shaye saw the raw talent in his oldest son too. Thomas had the potential to be a better gunman and better lawman, he thought, than he himself had ever been.
Shaye shifted in his saddle. His wound was throbbing, but he didn’t think it was bleeding. He knew that for the past year he hadn’t been a very good father to Thomas. What happened in Oklahoma City with Ethan Langer stuck in his craw. The whole point of the hunt was to find Langer and kill him. What Thomas had done was allow the man to live—crippled, and in prison, but still alive. He had not been able to come to terms with that, but maybe it was time. After this was all over, he told himself, he would talk to both Thomas and James about what had happened and what was going to happen.
All they had to do was all come back from this hunt alive.
48
Sean Davis lost the trail as he entered Blue Mesa. There was just too much traffic on the main street, so the tracks he’d been following were trampled into obscurity. However, he knew if Cardwell and Jacks had stayed in town overnight, they would have put their horses up at the livery stable, of which there was only one.
At the stable, he faced a good news/bad news situation. The good news was that the liveryman—an older man named Hackett—told him he’d just missed Cardwell and Simon Jacks, after a few dollars changed hands.
“Left this mornin’,” the man said. “Few hours ago, actually. I knew they looked dodgy. You a lawman?”
Davis didn’t answer. He was too busy worrying about the bad news. Of all the places to take a bad step, his horse had done it right in the middle of the main street. The animal almost went down and he had to get off it and walk it to the stable.
“How bad is it?” he asked the liveryman.
“Sprained,” the man said. “Not gonna ride this fella for a while.”
“I need a horse,” Davis said. “You got any for sale?”
“Not me,” the older man said, letting the horse’s leg drop and brushing his hands off on his pants. “I know where you can get one, but it won’t be cheap.”
“Where?”
“End of the street you’ll see a corral,” the man said. “Ask for a man named Ian.”
“Ian?”
“Yeah, he’s Irish, or Scottish, or somethin’. Foreigner, anyway. Sells horses.”
“Okay,” Davis said. “Thanks.”
“So you ain’t a lawman?”
Davis stopped on his way out, turned and said, “No, I ain’t a lawman. Take care of my horse and rig for me, I’ll be back. Maybe you’ll wanna buy the horse?”
“Naw,” Hackett said, “I don’t buy horses. Better talk to Ian about that too.”
“Yeah, okay,” Davis said, and left.
“’Nother one on the dodge,” Hackett said when he was gone, and began unsaddling the horse.
Davis found that Ian was a Scotsman in his sixties with about half a dozen horses available for sale in his corral. The man had the scarred hands of a longtime horse trader, and Davis knew he was going to get outhaggled no matter what. He could see this was going to take a while, because he recognized that there were no shortcuts with this man.
“I got a jug in the back,” Ian said. “We can pass it back and forth while we haggle.”
“Get it,” Davis said, “and let’s get started.”
The three riders stopped when they came within sight of Blue Mesa.
“Not a big town,” James said.
“We ride in together, word’s gonna get around,” Ralph Cory said.
“If the men we seek are in town, they will hear,” Colon said. “They will be forewarned.”
“What do we do, then?” James asked.
The two older men looked at him. James knew what they were thinking. He was the one wearing the badge. He wished Thomas was there.
“Never mind,” he said. “Let’s ride in separately. I’ll go first, then you fellas follow me every fifteen minutes.”
“Might help if we ride in from different directions too,” Cory suggested.
“Good idea, Ralph,” James said.
“Where do we meet?” Colon asked.
“At the livery,” James said. “Doesn’t look like this town would have more than one, and our horses won’t be so obvious there.”
“Good thinking,” Cory said.
“Thanks,” James said, gigging his horse with his heels. “I’ll see you boys in town.”
“You might want to put that badge in your pocket, though,” Cory called after him. “Sun’ll glint right off it.”
James waved a hand, then removed the badge and tucked it in his shirt pocket.
Entering the livery, James saw an older man rubbing down a horse.
“Help ya?” the man asked.
“I’m lookin’ for somebody, might have rode into town a little while ago,” James said. “That horse just come in?”
“’Bout an hour ago,” the man said. “Kinda lame, though. Stepped in a hole right here in town.”
“Where’s the rider?”
“Went lookin’ for another horse.”
“Where?”
“Far end of town, there’s a corral,” the man said. “Fella named Ian sells horses.”
“Any other strangers in town?”
The man straightened from the horse and looked at James. “You law?”
“Yes.”
“Badge?”
James took it out of his pocket and showed it to the man, but didn’t hold it close enough for him to read it.
“Two others, left this mornin’,” he said. “This third fella seems to be trailin’ them, like you. You alone?”
“No.”
“Good,” the man said. “Y’re a might young to be tryin’ to take somebody alone.”
“I get by,” James said.
He was about to say something else when he heard a noise behind him. He turned quickly and saw Colon entering the livery on foot, leading his horse.
“He with you?” the liveryman asked.
“Yes.”
“Well,” the man said, “you got your choice. Ian’s gonna keep yer man hagglin’ for a while, probably over a jug. You can take ’im there, or here when he comes back for his rig.”
Colon eyed James.
“Our man’s lookin’ for a new horse,” James explained. “Two other men rode out earlier this mornin’.”
“Which way?” Colon asked.
James looked at the liveryman.
“I dunno,” the man said. “I didn’t watch them leave.”
“Describe them,” James said, and listened while the man did.
“That them?” Colon asked.
“One of ’em sounds like Cardwell,” James said. “We’ll wait for Cory, and then go down and take the one in town while he’s hagglin’ over a jug with the horse trader.”
“As you wish, Jefe,” Colon said. “You are in charge.”
“He’s the boss?” the liveryman asked, surprised.
“You got a problem with that?” James asked.
“Me? I got no problems. Uh, am I gonna get paid for takin’ care of this fella’s horse?”
“You’ll get paid,” James said. “Just don’t leave here until we get back.”
“I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” the man said.
James jerked his head at Colon, and they walked their horses outside to wait for Cory.
49
“Then we have a deal?” Ian asked Davis.
“You drive a hard bargain,” Davis said, knowing this was what the man wanted to hear. “Yeah, we got a deal.”
“I’ll jus’ need to take a look at your horse, laddie,” Ian said.
“It’s a sound animal,” Davis promised, “other than the sprain.”
“Why don’t we walk over and take a look?”
“Fine with me.”
“One more pull from the jug, though, lad,” Ian said, handing it over to Davis.
“One more,” Davis agreed, even though the homegrown squeezin’ had already burnt the roof of his mouth, as well as his throat. He had to admit, though, that the fire it stoked in his belly was well worth it. He took a healthy pull and handed it back. Ian took a swig that was twice as long, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Be warned, lad,” Ian said, “stand up slow and easy. This stuff will knock you right off yer feet.”
“I can handle it—” Davis said, but as he stood up he suddenly got dizzy and fell back into his chair.
“Told you,” Ian said, laughing.
James, Cory, and Colon decided to leave their horses at the livery and walk over to the horse trader’s corral. Behind the corral was a shack, where they assumed the haggling was going on. As they approached it, they heard somebody laughing from inside.
“How do you want to play this, James?” Cory asked.
“Seems to me,” James said, “the best way would be to wait for him to come out. Goin’ in might spook him, and we want to take him alive. He might know where the others are headed.”
“Okay,” Cory said. “Looks like there’s only one way in, so let’s cover it.”
Davis waited for the room to stop spinning before he tried to stand up again. This time he remained on his feet.
“You okay?” Ian asked.
“What’s in that stuff?” Davis asked.
“That’s a family secret, lad,” Ian said. “Let’s go over to the livery and take a look at your horse.”
“After you,” Davis said.
Ian stepped out of the shack and was immediately grabbed from one side. James shook his head, indicating that it wasn’t the man they were looking for, and he was simply yanked to one side by Colon, who held his finger to his lips. Ian, who wanted no trouble, put his hands in the air and shrugged.
Davis came through the door next and immediately saw James, who had put his badge back on. He reached for his gun, but stopped short when he felt a gun barrel pressed to his temple.
“I wouldn’t,” Ralph Cory said.
Davis didn’t move as Cory plucked the gun from his holster and tucked it into Cory’s belt.
“Step outside,” James said, “slowly.”
Davis came out, lifted his hands in the air.
“I didn’t do nothin’,’ he said. “Who are you guys?”
“I’m a deputy from Vengeance Creek,” James said. “You’re under arrest for robbing the Vengeance Creek bank and killin’ everyone inside.”
“I didn’t kill nobody.”
“You were part of the gang that did.”
“You can’t prove that,” Davis said.
“We’ll prove it,” James said. “You can help yourself by tellin’ us where those other two are headed.”
“What other two?”
“Okay,” James said, “play it that way. Berto, bring that other one around.”
The Mexican stepped back and allowed Ian to come from the side of the shack.
“What’s your name?” James asked.
“Ian McShane,” the man said. “I am a horse trader, just met this lad today.”
“You got law in this town?”
“Sheriff Gibney,” Ian said.
“Any deputies?”
“One.”
James looked at Colon and Cory.
“Let’s take him over to the local lockup,” he suggested. “We can talk to him more there.”
“You can’t put me in jail,” Davis insisted. “I ain’t done nothin’.”
“You’ve done plenty,” Cory said, “and we all know it. What’s your name, anyway? Any paper out on you?”
Davis kept quiet.
“Told me his name was Davis,” Ian offered.
“Let’s go, Davis,” James said.
Cory prodded Davis in the back with his gun and they started walking toward the sheriff’s office.
“Guess he’s not going to be buyin’ a horse from me,” Ian said.
“Maybe not,” James said, “but we might. We’ll need one to get him out of town.”
“Got just the one for you,” Ian said happily. “We can haggle over a jug.”
“Maybe later,” James said, and followed after the others.
50
Sheriff Jarrod Gibney looked up as his office door burst open and four men came tumbling through.
“What the hell—”
“Deputy James Shaye, Sheriff,” James said, introducing himself. “From Vengeance Creek, Arizona.”
“Arizona?” Gibney asked. “Deputy, you’re a little out of your bailiwick, ain’t ya?”
“That may be,” James said, “but I got a prisoner for you.”
“That’s so?” The sheriff stood up, showing that his belly had popped a button at the bottom of his shirt. There was also something on his bushy mustache, maybe left over from breakfast. “What’d he do?”
“He’s part of a gang that robbed our bank and killed everyone who worked in it.”
“Everyone?”
“Every last employee,” James said.
“I ain’t killed nobody.”
“Might be some paper on this one, Sheriff,” Cory said.
“These fellas also deputies?” Gibney asked.
“Posse,” James said. “This here’s Ralph Cory, that’s Rigoberto Colon.”
“Three man posse?”
“Four,” James said. “My brother’s comin’ up behind us. He’s also a deputy.”
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“I haven’t heard nothin’ about this Vengeance Creek bank job you’re talkin about—” the sheriff started, but James cut him off.
“Can we talk about it after we put him in a cell, Sheriff?”
“Huh? Oh, sure. Follow me.”
They went into a back room, where there was only one cell. Cory and Colon remained in the office, while James and Gibney put Davis inside the cell.
“We’re still trackin’ two men, Sheriff,” James said. “We’d like to leave Davis here so we can get on with it.”
“Well…for how long?”
“Until we come back.”
“And what do I do if you don’t come back?”
“Contact Sheriff Dan Shaye in Vengeance Creek,” Cory said. “He’ll arrange to have the prisoner picked up.”
Gibney looked at Cory. “Do I know you?” he asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“You look real familiar to me.”
“I get that a lot,” Cory said. “I’ve got that kind of face.”
“Sheriff,” James said, “my brother should be along shortly. His name’s Thomas Shaye. If you’d tell him what happened here and that we continued on our way, I’d be much obliged.”
Now Gibney looked at James. “You’re awful young to be a deputy, ain’t ya?”
“I’m old enough,” James said. “Will you give my brother that message?”
“Well, yeah, but…I don’t know about keepin’ this feller here for too long—”
“I’m gonna talk with him before we leave,” James said, “see what he can tell me about the others we’re chasin’.” He turned to Colon and Cory. “Why don’t you fellas meet me in the saloon?”
Cory, relieved not to have to remain in the office with a lawman who might have recognized him from his bounty hunting days, said, “That suits me.”
“Sí, me also,” Colon said.
“We’ll see you later,” Cory said, and the two men left the office.
“That Cory feller sure looks familiar,” Gibney said.
“I’m gonna talk with the prisoner,” James said. “Would you sit in so you can tell my brother what’s been said?” He figured this would also keep the man from dwelling too long on where he’d seen “Ralph Cory” before.
“Sure, okay,” Gibney said, and they went into the single cell block.
Vengeance Creek Page 14
