Vengeance Creek

by Robert J. Randisi

  51

  “Where do you think he knows you from?” Colon asked Cory when they were in the saloon.

  “I don’t know,” Cory said. “Someplace in my past. I probably brought him a prisoner once.”

  “Or a body,” Colon said.

  Cory ignored him.

  “Do you recognize him?” the Mexican asked.

  “No,” Cory said. “I got too much to do rememberin’ the faces of the men I killed. I can’t be rememberin’ the faces of all the lawmen I’ve known over the years.”

  “Sí,” Colon said, “that makes sense.”

  “It don’t matter,” Cory said. “We’ll be leavin’ this town soon.”

  “Too bad we do not have time for a hot meal,” Colon said.

  Cory looked at him and asked, “Who says we don’t?”

  They both smiled, and Cory started waving frantically to the bartender.

  “You serve food here?” he asked.

  “It’ll go easier on you if you cooperate, Davis,” James said to Sean Davis.

  The man was laying on his back on the cot in his cell, one arm thrown across his eyes, ignoring him.

  “They left you behind to take the rap, didn’t they?”

  No answer.

  “Took off with your share of the money.”

  Silence.

  “This guy’s an idiot,” Gibney said. “Those others did that to him and he’s protectin’ them?”

  “I ain’t protectin’ nobody,” Davis finally said, without moving his arm.

  “Then why won’t you talk to me?” James asked.

  Davis fell back into his silence.

  “Oh, I get it,” James said.

  “What?” Gibney asked.

  James turned to face the lawman. “He was trackin’ them too,” he said. “He wants to find them as much as we do.”

  “Do we know who any of these fellas are?”

  “Yeah,” James said. “One of them is named Ben Cardwell. The other one might be a man named Simon Jacks.”

  “Jacks?”

  “Yeah,” James said. “You know him?”

  “I know of him.”

  “Like what?”

  “Good man with a gun,” the lawman said, “good man to hire.”

  “Not a leader?”

  “No,” Gibney said. “From what I’ve heard, he is strictly for hire. Somebody else does the thinkin’.”

  “Like this fella Cardwell,” James said.

  “Probably.”

  They both looked into the cell again.

  “I don’t believe this one does any thinkin’,” James said. “He looks like a definite follower.”

  “Yeah,” Gibney said. “I don’t even know why he was trackin’ them. A man like Simon Jacks would kill him with no problem.”

  Davis removed his arm from his eyes so he could look at them, then turned and faced the wall. James signaled for the sheriff to follow him out.

  “It doesn’t look like I’m gonna get anythin’ from him,” he said in the office. “I’d better just collect my men and get after the other two.”

  “Whatever you say, Deputy.”

  “My brother will be along later today,” James said. “Just tell him what happened and where we went.”

  “All right,” Gibney said. But as James was going out the door, he called out, “But where are you going?”

  James found Cory and Colon at the saloon, each with a beer and hot plate of food in front of them.

  “I see you fellas haven’t missed me,” he said.

  “Bartender, bring out that other plate!” Cory said, then looked at James. “We thought there was no harm in havin’ some hot food before we left.”

  The bartender obeyed, bringing out a third plate of food, along with a mug of beer. James sat down in front of the beer and looked around. The saloon was empty but for them. It was early, but it wasn’t that early.

  “Where’s everyone else?” he asked.

  “I think they thought there was gonna be trouble,” Cory said.

  James hesitated with a forkful of steak halfway to his mouth. “Do you think there are others here?”

  “No, I think the other two left, and the only reason we caught Davis is that his horse went lame. Did you get anything out of him?”

  “No, nothing.” James took a bite of steak. It was tough, but good.

  “Do you want me to try?” Cory asked.

  “No,” James said, “Thomas will be along soon. He’ll have a try. We should eat and get going.”

  “We need some supplies,” Colon said.

  “That’ll be your job, Berto,” James said. “Just get us some beef jerky and coffee.”

  “No bacon? No frijoles?”

  “No,” James said. “We want to outfit light and move fast.”

  “Sounds good,” Cory said.

  “Sí,” Colon said, “as you wish, Jefe.”

  Cory looked at James. The young man thought the older man might have winked at him, but it could have been his imagination.

  52

  When Thomas rode into Blue Mesa, the main street was empty. He found that odd. Perhaps something had happened in town that sent everyone indoors. Or the threat of something. He preferred if the answer were the latter, not the former.

  There were a couple of ways he could have played this, but he decided to go at it in a straightforward manner. If something had happened, the local sheriff would know it.

  He continued to ride until he saw the sheriff’s office, then reined his horse in right in front. He dismounted, tied off his horse, approached the door, then stopped to turn and survey the street. He had the feeling he was being watched from windows. He wondered if any of those people were holding a gun on him.

  He turned and entered the office. A portly man with a big mustache was seated behind the desk.

  “Sheriff?”

  “That’s right,” the man said. “Sheriff Gibney…and you must be Deputy Shaye.”

  “That’s right, Thomas Shaye. I assume my brother was here?”

  “He was,” Gibney said, “he and his two men.”

  “Are they all right?”

  “They’re fine,” Gibney said. “They had a hot meal and went on their way, but they left somethin’ behind.”

  “What’s that?”

  Gibney waved his hand and said, “In my cell.”

  Thomas followed, saw a man still lying with his back to the outside of the cell.

  “Who is it?’

  “A man named Davis,” Gibney said. “Your brother seemed to think he was part of the gang that robbed your bank.”

  Thomas looked at Gibney. “Tell me about it….”

  After the lawman had told him everything he knew, Thomas asked him to open the cell door.

  “And then what?”

  “And then leave me alone with him,” Thomas said. “I’m gonna ask him some questions.”

  “Your brother tried that.”

  “I’m gonna ask a little more forcefully.”

  Davis turned over and looked at Thomas as he came through the open cell door….

  Ben Cardwell and Simon Jacks crossed into Colorado.

  “You want to tell me where we’re headed?” Jacks asked. “Where this special bank is?”

  “You’ll find out,” Cardwell said. “Just know that there’s a lot of money ahead of us, Jacks. More than you could imagine.”

  “That’s ahead of us,” Jacks said. “What do you think is behind us?”

  “What does it matter?” Cardwell asked. “Davis, a posse. By the time they catch up to us, we’ll have a dozen guns behind us. We’ll take care of them, and then my bank.”

  “Your bank?”

  Cardwell looked at Jacks. “Our bank, Simon. Our bank.”

  “The trail is clear from here,” Ralph Cory said.

  James and Colon had remained mounted. The Mexican had long since admitted that the ex-bounty hunter was a better tracker than he was. He was there mostly for his gun, when trouble came
.

  It had taken them some time to relocate the trail, but once they were far enough from town that the ground wasn’t filled with tracks from town traffic, Cory had picked it up again.

  Cory turned and mounted up, accepted the reins of his horse from James.

  “They’re still together,” he said. “Still heading northeast.”

  “Colorado,” Colon said.

  “Looks like it.” He looked at James. “We gonna follow them all the way?”

  James nodded. “All the way.”

  “You remember who I am?” Thomas asked Sean Davis.

  The man sat up on his cot and stared at Thomas without answering.

  “I’m the deputy who’s gonna beat you to death if you don’t start talkin’,” Thomas said to him.

  Davis stared at the badge on Thomas’s chest, then looked past him.

  “W-Where’s the sheriff?” he asked.

  “He left,” Thomas said. “Went for a walk. I told him to leave us alone so we could…talk.”

  “I—I got nothin’ to say to you.”

  “Yeah,” Thomas said, “yeah, you do, friend…you just don’t know it yet.”

  He took out his knife and moved closer. “I need to know what you know, Davis, but if you won’t tell me, then I don’t see that you have any need of your tongue…do you?”

  Davis blinked at him and said, “Huh?”

  “Let me make it simple,” Thomas explained. “If you don’t talk to me, I’m gonna cut out your tongue.”

  “You—You can’t do that.”

  “Sure I can.”

  “Y-You wouldn’t.”

  “Yes,” Thomas said, “I would.”

  “B-But—”

  “You ever hear of Ethan Langer?”

  Davis’s eyes popped and he skittered back on his cot until the wall stopped him. “That was you?”

  “Now let me ask my questions again….”

  53

  When Thomas came out of the sheriff’s office, the man was sitting in a wooden chair outside.

  “Get what you needed?” Gibney asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You musta been more persuasive than your brother,” the sheriff said. “Say, ain’t he a little young for this kinda responsibility?”

  “He’s old enough.”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “I’m gonna need a fresh mount,” Thomas said, “but I don’t think I have enough money to buy one. I can trade my mount in, but—”

  Gibney stood up. “Let’s go and talk to Ian McShane,” he said. “He’s the local horse trader. In fact, that’s where your brother and them others found your man Davis.”

  “Is that a fact?”

  They started walking down the street, Thomas leading his horse.

  “Where’s Davis’s horse and rig?” he asked the lawman.

  “At the livery.”

  “Maybe I can sweeten the deal by throwin’ them in.”

  “Could be.”

  They walked a few moments and then Gibney asked, “That feller Cory, ridin’ with your brother?”

  “What about him?”

  “He sure looked familiar to me,” the lawman said. “Where’d he come from?”

  “He’s just a local, from Vengeance Creek,” Thomas said. “He volunteered.”

  “And the Mex?”

  “Also a volunteer.”

  “Well, I don’t know him,” Gibney said, “but I’m sure I know Cory from someplace. It’ll come to me.”

  Thomas hoped not.

  When they reached the corral and shack at the end of town, Gibney stopped Thomas.

  “Ian’s a fierce haggler,” he explained. “You won’t be able to buy a horse from him without it.”

  “Okay.”

  “And how are you on squeezin’s?”

  “What?”

  “Never mind,” Gibney said, patting Thomas on the arm, “just follow my lead, and maybe you’ll come out of it with a fresh horse and just a little bit of a headache.”

  Sweetening the deal with Sean Davis’s horse and outfit had done the job for him. Thomas also promised to send Ian some more money when he returned to Vengeance Creek. With Sheriff Gibney backing his play, the horse trader had finally agreed.

  He was tightening the cinch on his saddle when Gibney walked into the livery.

  “Just about ready to go?”

  “Almost.”

  “Sure you don’t wanna grab a hot meal?”

  “No time.”

  “You got some idea about where your men are goin’?”

  “Davis gave me some idea.”

  “You believe him?”

  “Yeah, I believe him.”

  Thomas turned his new horse, a five-year-old bay mare Ian swore had the stamina of a bull, and walked her out of the livery. Thomas usually rode colts, or geldings, but the trader swore this was the best horse he had. Though he was not as good a judge of horseflesh as his father and younger brother, from what he could see, the man was telling the truth.

  The sheriff followed him out of the livery. “So what are you gonna do?”

  “Since I have an idea where they’re goin’,” Thomas said, swinging up into the saddle, “I don’t have to track them. I can try to maybe get ahead of them.”

  “Might be you’ll just catch up to the rest of your posse,” Gibney said.

  “Might be.”

  “Anybody else gonna be comin’ along after you?”

  Thomas briefly thought about his father, but he doubted Dan Shaye was ready to swing into the saddle just yet.

  “I don’t think so,” he said.

  “How long should I hold Davis?”

  Thomas stared down at the man. “Until somebody comes for him.”

  “And somebody will?” Gibney asked. “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure, Sheriff,” Thomas said. “Somebody will come for him.”

  “Okay, then,” Gibney said. “Good luck to you.”

  Thomas shook the man’s hand, then gave the horse his heels and headed northeast.

  54

  Cardwell caught Jacks looking off into the darkness as they sat around their campfire.

  “Look,” he said, “if anyone’s trackin’ us, they’re movin’ slower than we are. We’ll get where we’re goin’ before they catch up to us.”

  “That may be so,” Jacks said, “but there’s no reason we can’t stay alert.”

  “Oh, I agree with that,” Cardwell said. “In fact, why don’t you stay alert first for about four hours, and then wake me.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Jacks said, “I got first watch.”

  Cardwell nodded, then rolled himself up in his blanket and turned his back to Jacks.

  “If we ride through the night we’ll catch up to them,” James said to Cory and Colon.

  The two older men exchanged a glance.

  “If we ride at night,” Cory said, “it’s more than likely one of our horses will step in a chuck hole and bust a leg. Then where will we be, huh?”

  James had to admit he was right.

  “Do not worry, my young friend,” Colon said. “We will catch up to them.”

  “I know we will,” James said. “I’m just worried about what’ll happen when we do. If there’s more than two of them…”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, Deputy,” Cory said. “Right now let’s decide on the order of the watch, with your brother not bein’ here.”

  James thought a moment, then said, “Ralph, you go first, then Berto, then me.”

  “Fine,” Cory said. “You guys sleep tight.”

  James and Colon each went to their bedrolls and burrowed in. There was a chill in the air, but it wasn’t bad. In fact, Cory liked it. It would help him keep his eyes open.

  The ex-bounty hunter admitted something to himself when he was left alone with his thoughts. He actually enjoyed being back on the hunt. It made him feel alive again, and being able to read sign had come back to him quickly. The enjoyment he’d be
en getting from it was becoming harder and harder to hide from the others. He knew the feeling might change once they caught up to their prey, but that was later. For now, being back in the saddle was better than being behind the counter of any store. That was something he never would have guessed when he agreed to go along. He’d thought it was going to be a hell of a chore, but it wasn’t. Not by a long sight.

  Thomas considered riding through the night, but even though he might have caught up to his brother and the others that way, the risk to the horse wasn’t worth it. He just didn’t know the terrain well enough to take the chance. Instead, he made a cold camp so he could just up and leave at first light, making do with water and jerky.

  He thought back to the few minutes he’d spent in the cell with Sean Davis. He wasn’t particularly proud of himself for what he’d done, scaring the man half to death like that.

  Davis swore up and down that he was just guessing when he told Thomas where he figured Ben Cardwell was headed. However, he was basing his guesses on things he’d heard Cardwell say over the past few months. Thomas decided to let the man keep his tongue and accept his guesses.

  Now he took out his knife and stared at it. Would he have cut Davis’s tongue out, as he had threatened? Probably not, but the mere fact that he’d used the threat didn’t make him feel very good. He wondered what his pa would have thought if he’d been there to see it.

  He put the knife away and took a bite of beef jerky. Not knowing the terrain would keep him from finding a shortcut and getting ahead of the others. Maybe if he could catch up to them quickly enough, though, Cory or Colon might know a quick route. Then again, rushing ahead to a place given him by Davis was putting more than a little faith in the man’s guesses. If he was lying, or if he was wrong, they might lose track of the two men completely. Then he and James would have to go back to Vengeance Creek and admit their failure to their father.

  Maybe he should just wait until he caught up to the others before making any more decisions.

  Dan Shaye was unsure of himself.

  He was camped, having built a fire so he could have some warm food and keep up his strength. But he was not sure he had done the right thing by leaving Vengeance Creek to go after his sons so long after they had left. What if they telegraphed, what if they needed him and he wasn’t there? Instead, he was out here, wandering about aimlessly.