“Durant!” he shouted.
In that moment he knew he’d been betrayed. He was supposed to be in the tub, up to his neck in water when Durant burst in. An easy target for his hated enemy.
Durant looked shocked as Jacks raised his gun. But the man had quick reflexes, and before Jacks could fire, he backed out of the room and ran down the hall toward the lobby.
Shoeless, Jacks chased him. He knew he had to finish Durant quick and get to Cardwell before the man could leave town.
He ran out into the hall, dropped to his knees as Durant fired two quick shots at him before running out into the lobby. Jacks chased him, came out into the lobby as people were scrambling for cover.
Durant turned in the middle of the lobby and fired at Jacks. One bullet struck the wall behind Jacks, while the other plowed into the desk clerk. As the man fell to the floor, Jacks stepped over him and returned fire.
“Damn you, Durant!” he shouted. “Damn you!”
Durant was furious. Things had not gone as planned, and he blamed Cardwell for that. If he hadn’t had to wait long enough for the man to get out of town, Jacks would have been easy pickings in the tub. He also blamed Jacks for taking such a quick bath. Didn’t the man know baths were for soaking in?
People were running through the lobby or simply hitting the floor to get out of the way of flying lead. Durant had two choices. He could run upstairs and go after the money, or head out into the street—but what if the money wasn’t there? No, the best thing to do was take care of Jacks first and then go for the money.
He decided to take the fight out into the street. Jacks had no boots on, and that might be an advantage.
He turned and went out the front door, firing two shots behind him for cover…
James and Colon heard the shots and reined their horses in. Suddenly, the front door of the hotel began belching out people.
“What the hell—” James said.
“Dismount!” Colon shouted.
Both men dropped from their horses and drew their guns just as a man with a gun came running out of the hotel, firing wildly behind him.
“Berto.”
Colon put his hand on James’s arm. “Wait.”
The man with the gun reached the street and turned around, waiting for someone. At that moment a second man came through the door, shoeless, gun in hand. He spotted the man in the street and both men began firing at the same time. The man in the street got the worst of it as two bullets slammed into his chest. James and Colon saw blood spurt from his back as the bullets went right through him. The man’s gun flew from his hand as he fell onto his back in the dirt.
Jacks put two bullets into Durant’s chest, and he’d never felt such satisfaction before. As the man fell onto his back, he saw two men watching, and one of them was wearing a badge. He recognized him from Vengeance Creek. It was one of the Shaye deputies. Jesus, had they trailed him here?
Jacks knew he was never going to get a chance at that sonofabitch Cardwell unless he got through this deputy. The man was just staring, not sure of what was happening. Jacks realized that while he knew who the deputy was, the young lawman did not know him.
He had to take the boy out while he had the chance….
“What the hell was that about?” James asked.
“I do not know,” Colon said.
James started as the man fired in their direction. He heard Colon grunt and go down, looked over and saw him holding his shoulder. He grabbed for his own gun as the man pulled the trigger again. He didn’t find out later that the only thing that had saved his life was that Jacks’s gun was empty. He didn’t know that, however, when he pulled the trigger of his own gun and shot Simon Jacks in the chest.
63
It was deathly quiet on the street once the shooting stopped. Then James heard the sound of men running. When he turned, he saw three men with badges advancing on him, their guns out. Instantly, he put his hands in the air, his gun still in his right.
“It’s all over!” he shouted. “It’s over!”
“Drop the gun!” the man wearing the sheriff’s badge hollered back. “Drop it!”
“Easy! Take it easy,” James said. “I’m a lawman.” He looked down at Colon, who was holding his hand over his shoulder, ribbons of blood running through his fingers. “My friend needs a doctor.”
“Drop the gun, I said.”
James obeyed, dropping his pistol to the ground. The lawman took in the picture before him, then said to his deputies, “Check on those other two.”
“Right, Sheriff,” one of them said.
The lawman was tall, square-shouldered, with a face that looked as if it had been carved from granite.
“I’m Sheriff Sam Dean. Identify yourself,” he said.
“I’m Deputy James Shaye, from Vengeance Creek, Arizona.”
“Arizona?” The man frowned. “You’re a little out of your jurisdiction. Let me see your badge.”
James moved his arms so the man could see his badge.
“Toss it over here.”
James hesitated, then took it off and tossed it to the man, who caught it deftly in his left hand. The sheriff looked at it, then put it in his pocket.
“Hey!” James protested.
“You’ll get it back…when I’m sure it’s yours.”
James was going to protest again, but a groan from Rigoberto Colon changed his mind.
“My friend needs a doctor.”
“He’s with you?”
“Yes.”
“Also a deputy?”
“No, he’s just…with me.”
“Part of your posse, I suppose?”
“That’s right.”
“Sheriff,” one of the deputies said, “they’re both dead.”
“That one killed that one,” James said, pointing, “and I killed him.”
“Who are they?” the sheriff asked.
“Can we get him to a doctor, please?” James asked.
The sheriff relented and said to the deputy, “All right, Hal, take him over to the doc.”
“You don’t want me to stay—”
“Just walk him to the doc’s.”
“Yes, sir.”
As the deputy bent over to help Colon up, the sheriff said, “And take his gun!”
“Yes, sir.”
The lawman turned his attention back to James. “You know these two?”
“The one in front of the hotel is probably Simon Jacks.”
“Jacks?”
“You know him?”
“I’ve heard of him. And the other one?”
“I don’t know him.”
“Then why did you kill him?”
James took a deep breath. “I didn’t kill him,” he said, “I killed Jacks—if it is Jacks.”
“You’re not sure?”
“No, I’m not.”
“But you killed him anyway.”
“He shot my…my partner.”
“Sheriff?” It was the other deputy.
“Yeah, Ted.”
“That one by the door, his gun was empty.”
“It wasn’t empty,” James said, “he just fired all his shots.”
“That means it was empty,” the sheriff said.
“I didn’t know that when I fired back.”
“Ted, get some men to help get these fellas off the street,” Dean said. “I’m gonna take the…the deputy here over to the office. See if anybody knows who they are.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Ask the desk clerk,” Dean said. “Maybe one of them is a registered guest.”
“I can’t do that, Sheriff.”
“Why not?”
“Uh, the clerk’s dead.”
Sheriff Dean looked at James.
“Don’t look at me,” James said. “I didn’t kill him. I never went inside.”
“Okay,” the sheriff said, “okay, just get the bodies off the street, Ted.”
“Yes, Sheriff.”
“All right, Deputy,”
Dean said. “Walk ahead of me and we’ll finish discussing this in my office.”
64
James stared out from between the bars of his cell in disbelief. The sheriff had tossed his badge—his badge—into a desk drawer and deposited him in a cell.
“Once I’ve verified with the sheriff of Vengeance Creek that you’re who you say you are, I’ll let you out and give you back your badge. Until then…what would you like for dinner?”
“Sheriff,” James said, “this is ridiculous. It could take days to get an answer—”
“Didn’t you tell me the sheriff was your pa?”
“That’s right, but—”
“Then he should respond to my telegraph message real quick, don’t ya think?”
“Sheriff, do you have any kids?”
“No,” the man said. “My wife died before we could have kids, and I never remarried. Fifty-five years old and all I got is my job.”
James didn’t want to start discussing the sheriff’s life with him. “And I’m sure you do a fine job…do you have any brothers?” James asked hopefully.
“No,” Dean said, “never had no brothers or sisters.”
This wasn’t going to be easy, but James knew he had to try anyway.
“Sheriff, my brother is gonna have to face Ben Cardwell and whatever crew he gathers together alone if I don’t get out of here and back on the trail.”
“You’ll be out as soon as I get my reply,” Dean said. “Not before.”
“Did you at least identify the two dead men?”
“Yeah, we did,” Dean said. “The one you killed registered as Simon Jacks. I know who he is, and he wasn’t wanted in this state. The other man resembles a poster I got on a fella called Bart Durant.”
“I don’t know that name.”
“He was wanted here and in New Mexico, but since you didn’t kill him, you don’t get any reward, and the man who did kill him is already dead.”
So Sheriff Dean was probably going to claim the reward on the dead outlaw. But James didn’t care about that at the moment.
“Did you check Jacks’s room?”
“We did,” Dean said. “We found an empty set of saddlebags under his bed.”
“Empty?”
“That’s right. Steak okay for you for dinner? They do a great steak over at the café—”
“Sonofabitch.”
“What?”
“Cardwell,” James said. “I’ll bet that sonofabitch set these two men against each other so he could ride off with the entire haul from the Vengeance Creek bank.”
“That could be,” Dean said, rubbing his strong jaw. “Ain’t no honor among thieves, ya know.”
“Sheriff, look,” James said, pleading, “we’re both lawmen, how about some professional courtesy—”
“I’ll give you all the professional courtesy you want,” Dean said, “once I’m sure you’re who you say you are.”
“What about my friend?”
“He took a bullet in the shoulder,” Dean said. “Doc’s patchin’ him up, but he ain’t goin’ nowhere soon. In fact, I may just put him in that cell next to you.”
“What did he do?” James asked. “Besides get shot?”
“He rode in with you, and I don’t know who you or he is,” Dean said. “Until I do, I think I’ll just keep the both of you where I can keep an eye on you.”
“Sheriff,” James said, “if anythin’ happens to my brother, you’re gonna have to answer not only to me, but to my pa—”
“Steak, I think,” Dean said. “I’ll get you and your friend steak for dinner.”
“Sheriff!” James shouted, but the man left the cell block and closed the door behind him.
James could only hope that his father would respond to Sheriff Dean’s telegraph message as soon as he got it. Good thing his pa had stayed behind.
Dan Shaye rode up on some men working on a fence, and they all turned to look up at him. It wasn’t that hot, but he was sweating heavily. His wound had started to bleed a few miles back, or maybe more.
“Afternoon,” he said.
“What can we do for you, friend?” one man asked.
“My name’s Dan Shaye,” he said, steadying himself in his saddle. “I’m sheriff of a town called Vengeance Creek.”
“I’m Hal Forbes,” the other man said. “Foreman of the Double W ranch.”
“Double W?” Shaye asked.
“Say,” Forbes said before Shaye could go on, “you wouldn’t be kin to a Thomas Shaye, would ya? Well, sure ya would, ’cause he was wearin’ a deputy’s badge when he came by.”
“You saw Thomas?”
“Yeah, him and three others,” Forbes said. “One was his brother?”
“My other son, James,” Shaye said. “When were they here?”
“Oh, some time back, I reckon,” Forbes said. “They were trailin’ some murderin’ bank robbers.”
“That’s right,” Shaye said, “and I’m trailin’ them.”
“Sheriff Shaye,” Forbes said, “you don’t mind me sayin’, you don’t look too good…and is that blood soakin’ into the leg of your pants?”
Shaye swayed in his saddle and said, “I could use a little help, I guess…bandage…telegraph?”
“We can help with both…. Hey, hey, catch him boys, he’s fallin’!”
65
Ben Cardwell believed that everything had gone according to plan. Sean Davis had been left behind, and now Simon Jacks had been taken care of by Bart Durant. With any luck, Durant had also been taken care of by either Jacks or the local law.
He was in the clear.
He now had all the money from the Vengeance Creek bank job in his saddlebags, having left the empty set under the bed in Jacks’s room. Even if Durant got away from Trinidad and came looking for him, he’d never find him. Once he completed this last job, he’d have enough money to disappear for good.
Ben Cardwell had the supreme arrogance to believe that no one could touch him. Not the many partners he had double-crossed and left behind, and not the law. He was too smart for all of them, as evidenced by the fact that he was now riding alone, with all the money from Vengeance Creek.
He was heading north, with the intention of hitting the one bank he’d always wanted to hit—the Bank of Denver.
The Sangre de Cristo Pass was clear, which was good news for Thomas and Cory. The horses had made it fine, and Cory was pleased with his own performance.
“Maybe you’re not as old as you think,” Thomas said across the fire.
“Oh, yeah,” Cory said, “I’m as old as I think, but I’m in better shape than I thought.”
Thomas looked up at the moon, and the peaks silhouetted against them.
“Those are beautiful.”
“Las Cumbras Espanolas,” Cory said, “as our friend Rigoberto would say.”
“And what would we say?”
“The Spanish Peaks.”
“Right, right,” Thomas said, “the mountains we don’t have to go over.”
“It shouldn’t be very hard from here,” Cory said, washing down some jerky with water from his canteen. They had found a waterhole and had been able to refill the canteens with some ice cold mountain water.
“I hope James is all right,” Thomas said.
“Maybe you’ve got to stop takin’ care of him, Thomas,” Cory said. “Let him go off on his own sometime.”
“This was sometime, Ralph,” Thomas said. “This is the first time James and I have been out without Pa. I’ve got to look after him. If somethin’ happens to him, I’m gonna have to explain it to Pa.”
“Well, he’s got Rigoberto with him.”
“Considering Pa pulled Berto out of the back room of a saloon, that don’t make me feel too confident.”
“Berto’s a good man, Thomas,” Cory said. “Don’t worry. When they get to Denver, we’ll be there waitin’.”
“Hopefully ahead of Cardwell and Jacks,” Thomas said. “If he gets there first and manages to put som
e men together, we’ll be outnumbered.”
“I’ve been outnumbered before,” Cory said. “From what you told me about last year, you and your brother and your pa have been too.”
“Yeah, we have.”
“Get some sleep,” Cory said. “I’ll take the first watch tonight. It’s been a long time since I’ve been here. I want to sit back and enjoy it for a while.”
“Sounds good to me,” Thomas said, pulling his blanket around him. “I’m beat.”
“Yeah,” Cory said, “you better rest your young bones while the old-timer stands watch.”
“Fine,” Thomas said through a yawn, “whatever you say…old-timer.”
When Dan Shaye opened his eyes, he looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. He didn’t think he had ever been in a bed, or a room, this plush and comfortable. Frowning, he tried to remember how he had gotten there.
He tossed back the blanket and looked down at himself. He was naked, except for a clean new bandage on his wound. When he heard the doorknob turn, he quickly covered himself before the door opened.
“Oh good,” the woman who entered said, “you’re awake.”
“Who are you?” he demanded. “How did I get here?”
“My name is Wendy Williams,” the attractive young woman said, “and you’re in my home. This is the Double W Ranch.”
“Double—I remember. I was talking to a man—your foreman—”
“Hal Forbes,” she said, smoothing down the front of her blue dress and perching herself on the edge of the bed. She smelled like lilacs. He knew that because his wife, Mary, had loved lilacs. “Yes, my foreman. You were talking to him and some of my men when you fell off your horse. They brought you here, and I had the doctor from town come and look at you.”
“What did he say?”
“He said that judging from the severity of your wound—which he judges to be anywhere from ten days to two weeks old—you should not be riding a horse.”
“I have to ride,” he said. “I have to find my sons.”
“Thomas being one of them?” she asked.
“Yes, and James.”
“Your sons…and your deputies?”
“Yes.”
Vengeance Creek Page 18
