Return to Vengeance Creek

by Robert J. Randisi

  “Let’s go get your brother,” Shaye said, heading for the door.

  “Should we, Pa?”

  Shaye stopped. “Why not?”

  “What if it’s Red Fleming?”

  “What if it is?”

  “Harry says his brother Red is gonna kill Thomas.”

  “You said there’s seven men.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, whether it’s Red Fleming or not, we’re better off with the three of us than just two, don’t ya think?”

  “Well . . . sure, but—”

  “No buts,” Shaye said. “Let’s go and get your brother.”

  Thomas was, indeed, still in the café. He was drinking coffee and eating a hunk of pie while Katrina sat across from him. There were only two other customers in the place, a married couple still working on their lunches, so Katrina sat with her chin in her hand, watching Thomas chew.

  “Look how happy they are,” she said.

  “Who?”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Horton, right there.”

  Thomas looked over at the middle-aged couple, who each seemed to be concentrating on their own meal.

  “They’re not even talkin’ to each other,” he said.

  “They don’t have to,” Katrina said. “They’re that connected. Don’t you think you could ever be that connected with a woman, Thomas?”

  “I don’t care how connected you are, Katrina,” Thomas said, “you still gotta talk, some time.”

  “Well, I’m sure they do, but what I meant was—”

  “This was really good pie, Kat,” Thomas said, pushing his empty plate away. “Can I get some more coffee?”

  Frustrated, the waitress stood up and said, “Of course,” but before she could go to the kitchen for the pot, Sheriff Daniel Shaye walked in, followed by Deputy James.

  “Thomas, let’s go,” Shaye said.

  “What’s goin’ on, Pa?”

  “Some men just rode into town. Might be Red Fleming.”

  Thomas stood up.

  “If it is, he must be lookin’ for me.”

  “He might be lookin’ for you, brother,” James sad, “but he’s going to find all of us.”

  “Pa,” Thomas said, “you gotta let me handle this.”

  “Son,” Shaye said, “Fleming’s got six men with him. You ready to go up against seven men?”

  “No,” Thomas had to admit.

  “Then let’s go,” his father said. “We do this the way we do most things—together.”

  Thomas looked at Katrina, who was standing by, looking worried.

  “How much do I owe you, Kat?”

  “Nothin’, Thomas,” she said. “Just go . . . and don’t get yourself killed!” She looked at Daniel and James. “Any of you.”

  “We won’t, Miss Katrina,” Shaye said.

  “Where are they?” Thomas asked his brother as they went out the front door.

  “At the Renegade.”

  “Pa?” Thomas said. “Maybe we should give them some time to get a little liquored up, first.”

  “That’s a good idea, son,” Shaye said. “Whiskey might make ’em short tempered, and they won’t be seein’ straight.”

  EIGHT

  In the Renegade Saloon, Red Fleming and his six men were lined up at the bar. Fleming and Candy were off to one side, while the other five men stood at the other end, laughing and drinking.

  “Gimme another drink,” Fleming said to the bartender.

  The man came over with a bottle and filled his shot glass. Fleming reached out and grabbed the bartender’s arm.

  “Leave the bottle.”

  “Yeah, sure,” the bartender said, and put it down.

  “Red,” Candy asked, “when are we gonna go look for some Shayes?”

  “We ain’t,” Fleming said. “They’re gonna find us.” He pushed the bottle toward Candy. “Have another.”

  “You wanna be drunk when they find us?” Candy asked.

  “I don’t get drunk when I drink,” Red Fleming said. “I get faster.”

  “What about them?” Candy asked, indicating the other men.

  “They’ll get drunk,” Fleming said, “and then dead.”

  “So you’re willin’ to sacrifice them to get your brother out of jail?”

  “Every last one of ’em.”

  “And me?”

  “No,” Fleming said. “Of course not you, Candy.”

  Candy studied Fleming’s profile as the man stared into his own whiskey glass, then pushed the bottle away.

  When the Shayes reached the saloon, Daniel stopped and peered over the tops of the batwing doors.

  “There’s a group of men at the bar,” he said to his sons. “Take a look, James.”

  He moved aside so James could take his place.

  “That’s them,” James said, “Those are the men I saw ride in. Is one of ’em Red Fleming?”

  “I don’t know,” Shaye said, “but let’s find out.” He turned to Thomas. “Don’t draw unless I do.”

  “Okay.”

  Then, remembering that his son was faster than he was, he added, “Unless it becomes absolutely necessary.”

  “Got it.”

  Thomas and James bookended their father and the three of them entered the saloon.

  Red Fleming had been watching the batwings in the mirror behind the bar. When the lawmen walked in, he wasn’t surprised. He nudged Candy, who looked over his shoulder, then moved down to the men at the end of the bar.

  “Okay,” he said, “it’s time for you fellas to earn your money.”

  “Those three?” one asked.

  “Yep.”

  “They don’t look like much.”

  “Just do your jobs,” Candy said, and moved back toward Red as the lawmen approached the bar.

  “Red Fleming?”

  One of the men turned as Shaye said his name.

  “Can I help you, Sheriff?”

  “Shaye,” the lawman said, “my name’s Sheriff Shaye. These are my deputies—”

  “And your sons,” Fleming finished. “Yeah, I heard of you.”

  “Then you’ve also heard that we have your brother in our jail.”

  “Oh, yeah. I heard.”

  Thomas noticed that Fleming’s gun was on his left hip, and his whiskey glass was in his right hand. It was standard practice for a gunman to leave his gunhand free.

  “So, is that why you came to town?” Shaye asked. “To break him out?”

  “We came to town to have some drinks,” the man said. “That’s all. Breaking into your jail, that would be against the law. We don’t break the law. Ain’t that right, boys?”

  “That’s right, boss,” one of them said, and the others nodded and laughed. “We never break the law.”

  “Wouldn’t even think of it,” another said.

  “So why don’t you lawmen go and shoot a stray dog or somethin’,” a third man said, causing more laughter.

  James bristled. “Tell me, if I go back to the office and look through our wanted posters, what will I find? Pictures of any of you, maybe?”

  “And what if you did?” the man who mentioned the stray dog asked. “What would the three of you do to the six of us, huh?”

  “Wait a minute,” Shaye said, looking at his sons. “Six?”

  “What?” James asked.

  “There were seven men when we came in,” Shaye said. “Now there’s six.”

  “You’re right,” Thomas said.

  “What are you talkin’ about?” the man who answered to Red Fleming’s name demanded.

  “You’re not Fleming,” Shaye said.

  “The jail!” Thomas said. “Damn!”

  “Wait a minute!” the false Fleming—actually Candy—said.

  “Go!” Shaye shouted to Thomas.

  Thomas turned and ran for the door.

  “Hold it!” Candy yelled.

  “Go for that gun and we’re gonna have some big problems,” Shaye said to Candy.

  The
other five men were fidgety now, watching Candy for a signal.

  Candy, on the other hand, was calming down. Fleming hadn’t said anything about getting into a shoot-out with the law. He just wanted to get his brother out of jail.

  “Okay, hold on, now,” he said to Shaye. “Nobody said anythin’ about goin’ for their guns.”

  “No,” Shaye said, “you were just supposed to keep us busy here long enough for Fleming to get his brother out.”

  Candy didn’t answer. He held his hand up to the other men, to keep them from doing something stupid.

  “If somethin’ bad happens in my jail,” Shaye said, “you’re all gonna pay for it.”

  “Well then,” one of the other men said, “maybe we should just go for our guns, huh, Candy?”

  NINE

  Thomas ran through town, intent on getting to the jailhouse as soon as possible—hopefully in time to keep Red Fleming from breaking his brother out of jail. The only person there to stop him was the odd job man, Harvey Ludlow.

  He got to the jail and burst through the front door, drawing his gun as he went. He needn’t have bothered. It was quiet. Nothing seemed amiss, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. He moved slowly toward the door to the cell block, peered inside, saw that none of the cells had open doors. Maybe he had somehow beaten Red Fleming there.

  He entered the block, noticing a form on the cot in Harry Fleming’s cell—but he was sure it wasn’t Fleming.

  “Ah, no,” he said, opening the door and rushing into the cell. He grabbed the man and turned him over. It was Harvey, and he was dead, stabbed.

  “Damn it, Harvey.”

  He left the cell, ran to the back door of the jailhouse and out into the alley. It was deserted, but there in the dirt were the tracks of two horses. Red Fleming had killed Harvey, and gotten away with his brother, Harry.

  Thomas ran back through the jailhouse, hurrying back up the street toward the saloon.

  As Shaye and James exited the saloon, leaving Candy and the other Fleming men inside, they saw Thomas running toward them.

  “What happened?” Shaye asked.

  “Fleming,” Thomas said, out of breath. “He killed Harvey and got his brother out. They’re gone.”

  “Harvey’s dead?” James said, shocked.

  The three Shayes stood there for a moment in silence.

  “He used all that talk about him bein’ a fast gun to outsmart me,” Shaye finally said.

  “He outsmarted all of us,” James said.

  “What about these others?” Thomas asked. “Do you think they know where he’s goin’?”

  “Probably not,” Shaye said, “but there’s that one, called Candy . . . Let’s go back inside and ask.”

  They went into the Renegade and saw five men still standing at the bar. The sixth man, Candy, was gone.

  “Okay, boys,” Shaye said, “new plan.”

  The men turned to look at Shaye and his sons.

  “You again?”

  “I want you to put your guns on the bar,” Shaye said. “Hold them with two fingers, please.”

  The men didn’t move, but they also didn’t have Candy to look to for guidance.

  “It’s five to three now, fellas,” Thomas said. “You can’t like the odds.”

  For a moment Thomas thought the men would go for their guns, but one by one they laid their pistols and rifles on the bar, holding them with two fingers.

  “Bartender,” Shaye said, “collect that iron before somebody gets brave, please, and stow it below the bar.”

  “Yessir,” the bartender said. He gathered all the guns and quickly removed them from the bar.

  “Okay,” Shaye said, “now we can talk without anybody gettin’ stupid. You.” He pointed to one man, the one who’d made the comment about the stray dog. “What’s your name?”

  “Bentley.”

  “Okay, Bentley,” Shaye said, “where was your boss goin’ after he broke his brother out?”

  “I dunno,” the man said. “He didn’t tell us stuff like that.”

  “We was just a distraction,” another man said.

  “And you already got paid?” Thomas asked.

  Bentley nodded.

  “What about Candy?” Shaye asked.

  “He went out the back after you went out the front,” Bentley said.

  “Is he goin’ to meet the Flemings?” Shaye asked.

  “Probably,” Bentley said. “He’s been ridin’ with them a long time.”

  “And he never said where they were goin’?”

  “Never,” Bentley said. “Red would kill him if he talked.”

  Shaye exchanged a glance with each of his boys, then looked at the men again.

  “Okay,” Shaye said, “your visit to Vengeance Creek is officially over. I want you all out of town within the hour.”

  “What about our guns?” one man asked.

  “You’ll get them back as you ride out,” Shaye said, “unloaded. Try the north end.”

  He turned to leave, and his sons followed.

  “What do we do now?” Thomas asked when they got outside.

  “I should put together a posse,” Shaye said, “but that’ll take time.”

  “And all I have to do is saddle my horse,” Thomas said.

  “Do a little more than that, Thomas,” Shaye said. “Outfit yourself. It may take you a few days, or longer, to track them.”

  “Right. What about you?”

  “I have to stay in town,” Shaye said. “I told the mayor I’d be here if and when Cole Doucette comes to town.”

  “Okay, then,” Thomas said. “You two be careful.”

  “And you,” James said, looking concerned.

  Thomas ran off down the street toward the livery.

  “Pa, don’t you think I should go with him?” James asked, turning to his father.

  “No,” Shaye said, putting his hand on his son’s shoulder. “I’ve got another job for you.”

  “What?”

  “Thomas is gonna track the Flemings,” Shaye said. “I want you to track Candy.”

  “But . . . how? I’m no tracker.”

  “You know what I’ve taught you, James,” Shaye said. “Candy went out the back door. That means he must have had a horse there.”

  “Okay,” James said. “So Thomas has to track the two Flemings alone, and I leave you here to face Cole Doucette by yourself.”

  “With any luck at all,” Shaye said, “Candy will lead you to the Flemings and Thomas. Together, you’ll be able to take them.”

  “And you?” James asked. “What if Doucette gets here with a gang? And what if the mayor’s just jumpin’ at shadows, and Cole Doucette’s not comin’ here at all?”

  “Look, son, that’s a chance we’ll have to take,” Shaye said.

  “But Pa—”

  “I made the mayor a promise. So go saddle your horse.”

  “Yessir.”

  James knew better than to argue when his father had his mind set on something.

  TEN

  Shaye claimed the surrendered weapons from the bartender, then waited at the north end of town. As the gang rode by, he gave them each their weapon.

  “Don’t come back to town,” he told them.

  “We wouldn’t think of it, Sheriff,” Bentley said.

  Shaye watched them ride away and wished he had one more deputy to send after them, to trail them. He had a feeling Bentley was a long time compadre of the Fleming boys. But he was going to have to leave it to his sons to find Red and Harry.

  Once the Fleming men were gone, Shaye walked back to the center of town and entered City Hall. It was the newest building in Vengeance Creek, a two-story brick structure that would also house the Vengeance Creek Police Department if the mayor ever got the town council to approve it. Shaye knew this, but hadn’t shared the information with his sons. Not yet, anyway.

  A police department was in the distant—well, maybe not so distant—future, but certainly not something to worry
about yet. He was there to talk to the mayor, whose office was on the second floor.

  As he entered the outer office a middle-aged woman, seated at a desk, looked up and smiled. Agatha Helmund was a part-time employee of the city, working as a receptionist for the mayor when she wasn’t working in Miss Mitzi’s Dress Shop. She was a widow, so both jobs kept her fairly busy and away from her empty home.

  “Good afternoon, Sheriff.”

  “Agatha,” he greeted. Upon their initial meeting, she had insisted he call her by her first name. “Not so good, I’m afraid. Is he in?”

  “He is, but he’s left instructions not to be disturbed unless it’s an emergency.”

  “I believe this qualifies,” he said. “Harvey Ludlow’s been killed.”

  “Oh, my!” she said. “Oh, my goodness.” She slid her chair back. “I’ll tell him you’re here.” She stood, turned to walk away, then turned back. “H-how did he—I mean, how was he killed?”

  “I think I should tell the mayor that before I tell you, Agatha,” Shaye said.

  “Yes, yes, of course you must,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll see you.”

  She went to the door of the mayor’s office, knocked and entered. In moments she returned, leaving the door open behind her.

  “You can go in, Sheriff.”

  “Thank you, Agatha.”

  Shaye entered the office and Agatha closed the door behind him. Mayor Abner Snow stood behind his huge desk, looking alarmed.

  “What the hell happened to Harvey, Sheriff?” he demanded, brusquely.

  “It was Red Fleming, Mayor,” Shaye said. “He broke his brother out of jail and killed Harvey in the process.”

  “And where were you and your deputies when this happened?” Snow demanded.

  “We were in the Renegade, facing down the rest of his men,” Shaye said.

  “I didn’t hear any gunfire.”

  “There was none,” Shaye sad. “Harvey was stabbed, and we dispatched Fleming’s other men without firing any shots. He simply used them to distract us. I’m afraid I was . . . snookered,” Shaye said, embarrassed.

  Snow sat heavily behind his desk and waved at Shaye to sit also.

  “Where are your boys, Sheriff?”

  “They’re tracking the Fleming brothers,” Shaye said, seating himself.

  “Without you?”