“That fuckin’ town was a waste,” Harry said. He was talking about Tubac.
“Hey,” Red said, “we had somethin’ to drink and somethin’ to eat.”
“Yeah, and you had a woman,” Harry said. “Like we had time for that.”
Red laughed.
“There’s always time for a woman, brother,” he said.
“With a posse on our trail?”
“You know,” Red said, “I been thinkin’ about that. If there was a posse after us, we woulda seen sign of them by now.”
“What sign?”
“A bunch of riders would be kickin’ up a dust cloud,” Red said, “and we’d be seein’ it.”
“So you’re sayin there’s nobody after us?” Harry said, brightening.
“No, I ain’t sayin’ that,” Red said. “A lawman like Dan Shaye ain’t gonna let what we did go.”
“So maybe he’s trackin’ us himself?”
“Or he sent his deputies.”
Harry thought a moment. Then he brightened up again and said, “His sons.”
“Right.”
“Then all we gotta do is stop and wait for them,” Harry said, “and bushwhack ’em. We can kill Shaye’s sons.”
“And why would we wanna do that, Harry?”
“They put me in a cell, Red,” Harry said. “That older one, Thomas, I want him!”
“If we kill Shaye’s sons, he’ll never stop huntin’ us,” Red said.
“Hey,” Harry said, “you’re the fastest gun there is, Red. You could kill Thomas Shaye and Sheriff Shaye. No problem.”
“Yeah, well,” Red said, “we ain’t gonna stop and wait for anybody. If they’re gonna catch us, they’ll hafta keep tryin’.”
“And if they do catch up to us?”
Red turned his head and looked directly into his brother’s eyes.
“Then we’ll kill ’em,” he said.
“Yes!” Harry Fleming said.
FIFTEEN
James followed the trail being left by Candy until it petered out after three days. He still had some water and a little beef jerky left, but he was going to need to stop somewhere for more supplies. He didn’t have time to go hunting.
He decided to stop at the nearest town, outfit himself, and then set out again, hoping to pick up the trail. He’d hate to go back to Vengeance Creek and tell his father he’d lost Candy.
Or maybe he’d find out something in town.
Candy did everything Red Fleming had told him to do. He left a clear trail to allow a posse—or a single rider—to follow him for three days. At that point, he did everything he could to obliterate his trail, and then turned south. Red and Harry Fleming were heading for Mexico, and that was where Candy was going to meet them.
But first he had to get himself outfitted for the ride.
Flintlock was a small town three days’ ride north of Vengeance Creek. James had never been there, but he knew his father had been there several times. Flintlock had its own town sheriff, but in Dan Shaye’s opinion, the man wasn’t much of a lawdog. They had a mercantile, though, a saloon, and a whorehouse, so they were a good stopover for anybody who wanted to get outfitted, and maybe have a poke or two before going back on the trail.
He rode into town late in the afternoon. It seemed deserted except for a couple of men and a dog. The men were on opposite sides of the street and ignored him. Only the dog, who was standing right in the middle of the street, paid him any attention. One man was seated in a chair, whittling, while the other was seated in a chair, napping. That seemed a solid indication of what kind of town Flintlock was. The napping man’s chair was leaning back against the front wall of the jail, so James wouldn’t have been surprised if he was the sheriff.
James reined in his horse in front of the mercantile and dismounted. There were no other horses in sight as he wrapped his reins around a hitching post that leaned to one side.
He entered the store, found it small but well-stocked.
“ ’Afternoon,” an older man behind the counter greeted. “Can I help ya, Deputy?”
“Looks like you’ve got pretty much everything a man could need,” James said.
“Oh, yeah,” the man said, “there ain’t much between here and Vengeance Creek. Lots of folks who can’t make it there come here for their supplies. That’s where yer from, ain’t it? Vengeance Creek?”
“That’s right,” James said. “How did you know that?”
“Oh, lucky guess, is all,” the man said. “Not too many lawmen come this way. Next town’s about half a dozen miles east of here. What can I getcha?”
“Not much,” James said. “I’m riding light. I need some jerky, coffee, water for my canteen.”
“There’s a waterin’ hole ’bout a mile west of town, but I can help with that right here. Anythin’ else? Ammunition maybe?”
“I’m pretty good in that area,” James said. “Maybe a few cans of beans.” James didn’t want his saddlebags to be bulging with supplies. “And some bacon?”
“Comin’ up.”
“Oh,” he said, “and I’ll need a coffee pot and a frying pan.” He figured he might as well have some hot coffee and food if he was going to be camping at night while he was trying to pick up Candy’s trail again.
“How about a gunny sack to carry it in?” the man said. “Unless ya wanna pack yer saddlebags with a pot and pan. You can tie it to yer saddlehorn.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
“I thought it might. I’ll get these supplies ready fer ya right away.”
“Much obliged.”
James waited patiently while the man collected his items and brought them to the counter, then did his sums to come up with the final price.
“There ya go,” the clerk said, handing James his handwritten bill. “I’m guessin’ you’ll need to turn that in when ya get back to town.”
“I guess you’re right.”
James took out some money, paid his bill and tucked the piece of paper into his shirt pocket.
“This sounds like you’ve done all this before,” James said, picking up his sack and supplies.
“Did,” the man said, “lots of time. In fact, just did it earlier this mornin’.”
“You did?” James asked.
“Probably fer the man yer trackin’,” he said. “You are trackin’ a fella, ain’tcha?”
“I am, at that.”
“Fella some older than you, kinda good-lookin’, I guess, if yer a gal.”
“That’s him. What’d he buy?”
“Pretty much the same kinda stuff you just bought,” the clerk said. “Seems he had a way to go.”
“You know which direction?”
“South,” the clerk said. “I snuck a look, since I figured he had law on his back trail.”
“Did he say where he was going?”
“Naw, he didn’t say much,” the clerk said. “Pretty much just pointed. But he did go to the saloon before he left town. You should check there.”
“Okay, I will,” James said. “I’m much obliged, Mister . . .”
“Lennox,” the man said, “Dave Lennox.”
“I’m James Shaye.”
“One of Dan Shaye’s boys?”
“That’s right.”
Lennox stuck out his hand and said, “Glad to meetcha and glad to help. I saw your pa take the Travis boys in back in Hays, Kansas, in ’seventy-three.”
“Did you know him?” James asked, shaking the man’s hand.
“Naw, didn’t meet ’im, but I seen what he did. Helluva lawman.”
“Yes, he is,” James said. “Uh, your lawman, is that him, sleeping in front of the jail?”
“That’s him, all right.”
“He didn’t see my man, did he?”
“He never stirred from his chair,” Lennox said. “He ain’t moved for hours.”
“I better get moving, then,” James said. “I’ll check the saloon. Thanks.”
“Take care, Deputy.”
“What can I getcha?” the bartender asked.
“Beer,” James said. “If it’s cold.”
“It ain’t.”
“I’ll take it, anyway.”
“Comin’ up.”
James looked around at the other two men, the interior of the saloon. The tables and chairs seemed as wilted as the men.
“How many people you got in this town?” James asked as the bartender set his beer down.
“Not many,” the man said. “Me and these two, Dave Lennox over at the store, a few others, and some whores.” James realized that the two men were the same two he’d seen on the street.
“What happened around here?” James asked. He sipped the beer, which was lukewarm, but wet.
The bartender shrugged. “Folks left. Me and Dave keep our places stocked for people who pass through, like you.”
“And the fellow who came through this morning?”
“Yah, him, too,” the man said. “Sometimes we get some cowhands, come to town to drink, use some whores, get some supplies and move on.”
“That fellow this morning?” James asked. “Did he say where he was headed from here?”
The bartender looked at James’s badge for the first time.
“You huntin’ him?”
“I am.”
“What’d he do?”
James stretched the truth.
“Broke a prisoner out of jail and killed a man.”
The bartender shook his head.
“Naw, he didn’t say where he was goin’,” he said. “In fact, he didn’t talk much at all, except to ask for a beer.”
“That’s pretty much what Lennox said.” James put the beer down on the bar.
“Sorry I can’t help ya.”
“Yeah, me, too.” He reached into his pocket for a coin.
“Beer’s on the house, Deputy,” the bartender said.
“Thanks.”
James turned and walked out of the saloon, mounted his horse, and rode out of town, heading south.
SIXTEEN
Thomas rode into Tubac.
Nothing moved. There was not even a breeze. The main street was the most deserted thing he had ever seen in his life. It wasn’t even midday yet, a time when most towns were busy.
It was a small town, so he was able to easily ride from one end to the other on the main street. Many of the buildings had broken or boarded-over windows and doors.
When he got to the end of the street he turned his horse and rode back. He’d followed what he thought were the tracks left by Red and Harry Fleming, but now he was seeing more than just two sets of hoof prints in the dirt. Perhaps the town wasn’t as deserted as it appeared.
He reined in his horse in front of the small cantina and dismounted. That was when he smelled it. Something was cooking somewhere in town.
When he got to the batwing doors he stopped and took a deep breath. Sure enough, the odor of cooking food was coming from inside.
“Hello?” he called, without going through the doors.
He waited, and just when he was going to call out again, somebody came from out of the back room.
“Hola,” she said.
She was an attractive Mexican woman in her thirties, wearing an apron and an off-the-shoulder peasant blouse.
“Do you speak English?” he asked.
“Si,” she said, then, “yes, I do.”
“Can I come in?”
“Of course,” she said. “This is a cantina.”
He pushed the batwing doors in and entered.
“I thought the town was deserted,” he said.
“Almost,” she told him. “Are you hungry?”
“Very.”
“Please,” she said, “sit. I will get you some food.” She turned to head back to what was presumably the kitchen. “Do you have money?”
“I do.”
She smiled happily and went into the kitchen. Moments later she returned with two plates, one with meat and vegetables, and the other with tortillas.
“Would you like something to drink?” she asked. “Perhaps tequila?”
“Coffee would be fine, if my nose is working.”
“I have a pot in the kitchen,” she said.
Once again she disappeared, and this time returned with a pot and a cup.
“Thank you,” he said again as she poured him a cup.
“Can I do anything else for you?”
“Yes,” he said, “you could sit down with me while I eat. I’d like to ask some questions.”
“I thought you might,” she said, “when I first saw your badge.” She walked to the bar, reached behind it for another cup, came back, sat and poured herself a cup of coffee. “I assume you’re buying me a cup of coffee?”
“I am. What’s your name?”
“Irma.”
“My name’s Thomas Shaye. You know,” he said, “you look Mexican, but you don’t sound it. And Irma’s not a Mexican name.”
“That’s because I’m not,” she said. “But this is a cantina, and this is what people expect me to look like.”
“Do many people come here?” he asked.
“A few who live here,” she said, “and those who pass through, like you.”
“How many people live here?”
“Just a few,” she said. “Those of us who are waiting for the town to come back to life.”
“What about Apaches?”
“We ain’t seen any Apaches here in years,” she said. “The last major attack was ’sixty-one, and that’s when people left.”
“You were here then?”
She nodded. “I was a young girl. My parents didn’t want to leave.”
“Are they still here?”
She shook her head. “They both died and left me with this place.”
“Why don’t you leave?” he asked.
“Like I said,” she replied. “We’re waitin’ for the town to come back to life. Meanwhile, this is all I got.”
“You’re a good cook,” he told her.
“Uh-huh,” she said. “That ain’t all I’m good at. After you’re finished eatin’ we could go in the back.” She ran her hand over her bare shoulder, tugged the blouse down a little further.
It was obvious what she was offering him.
“No,” he said, “that’s okay. I’m on the trail of two men. Has anyone else been through here?”
“Yeah,” she said, “earlier today.”
“Did you feed them?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said, “and one of them did wanna go in the back.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Hours.”
“They say where they were goin’ from here?”
“No,” she said. “They didn’t talk much.”
“Did they talk to anybody else in town?”
“No,” she said, “just me. I fed them, went in the back with one, then wrapped up some food for them to take with them.”
“Which one went in the back with you?”
“The older one,” she said.
“That was Red Fleming,” he said. “The other one’s his brother, Harry.”
“Yeah,” she said. “He called him Harry. Told him not to be so nervous.”
“Harry was nervous?”
“Yeah. He didn’t wanna go in the back with me, and he didn’t want the other one to, either. The older one, he said, ‘Take it easy, Harry. Have another drink while the lady entertains me.’ ” She laughed. “Ain’t nobody called me a lady in a long time.”
“That’s too bad,” he said. “Seems to me you are a lady.”
She laughed again. “Seems to me if I was a lady I wouldn’t be offerin’ to go in the back with you.”
“Everybody’s gotta make a nickel.” He realized he might have insulted her. “Not that I’m sayin’ you’re a nickel a poke.”
&n
bsp; “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m way past havin’ my virtue insulted.”
“Well,” he said, pushing his plate away, “you’re still a helluva cook.”
“You goin’ after them?” she asked. “Right away?”
“I can’t let them get too far ahead.”
“You want me to pack some food for you? Won’t take long.”
“Sure, that’d be great. Thanks, Irma.”
“I’ll wrap up some enchiladas nice and tight,” she promised, collecting the plates off the table.
He poured himself another cup of coffee, figuring there was no harm waiting a little longer for the food.
“Here you go, Deputy,” she said, coming from the kitchen with some food wrapped in a napkin.
“Much obliged. Would you know how far we are from the Mexican border?”
“About twenty-five miles,” she said. “They might be across it by now.”
“I’ll have to take that chance.”
“You ain’t gonna follow ’em, are ya?” she asked. “Your badge ain’t no good over there.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “But my gun is. Thanks, Irma.”
As he went out the doors she called out, “Stop in on your way back!”
She stepped outside as he rode away.
“Men!” she said.
SEVENTEEN
After five days, Dan Shaye started to worry about his boys. The badges on their chests would be no help to them if they crossed the border into Mexico. In fact, the tin would work against them if they ran into Mexican bandidos or federales.
Hopefully, the Fleming boys had gone off to the north, but they were already wanted in several states, so it was more likely they’d ride south. Now Thomas, he wouldn’t hesitate to take the badge off, put it in his pocket, and follow them. James, on the other hand, while he might cross into Mexico, would probably keep the badge on. He was still inordinately proud of wearing it, kept it nice and shiny. If James rode into Mexico, he’d get into trouble sooner or later—unless he could find Thomas, first.
Shaye had taken to sitting in a chair in front of his office, watching the main street for Cole Doucette if and when he rode into town. Mayor Snow continued to insist he had word that Doucette was on his way.
“Last I heard,” Snow had said the day before, “was that he was in Scottsdale. That only puts him a couple of days from here.”
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