He walked to the bar and told the bartender, “Let me have a beer.”
“Sure, Sheriff.”
Once he had the beer, he turned and watched the game. For all intents and purposes, Kingdom was concentrating on the cards, but Shaye knew the gunman was immediately aware of him as he walked in.
He sipped his beer, watched the game, and as Kingdom was raking in a pot, he moved.
“Come on, Kingdom,” he said, as he reached the table, “we need to talk.”
Kingdom sat back. “What’s on your mind, Sheriff?”
“I had some complaints about you.”
“Complaints?” Kingdom asked. “I haven’t left this table except to eat and sleep.”
“He’s right, Sheriff,” one of the players said. “He’s been takin’ our money for days.”
“Shut up, Munski,” Shaye said. “This doesn’t concern you. Kingdom? You comin’? Or do I have to take your gun?”
Kingdom finally got the message.
“No, no, Sheriff, that’s okay,” he said, pushing his chair back. “I’ll come along quietly.”
As he reached to drag his chips into his hat Shaye said, “Leave ’em. They’ll be here when you get back.”
“You think so?” Kingdom asked.
“I know so.” Shaye looked at each of the other players in turn. “They’ll be here when he gets back, right?”
“Right, Sheriff,” Munski said, “right.”
“They’ll be here,” one of the other players said.
“So where we goin’, Sheriff?” Kingdom asked.
“My office,” Shaye said. “Just follow me and shut up.”
The two men walked out of the saloon together.
“Trouble, Sheriff?” Kingdom asked.
“Cole Doucette’s in town.”
“Oh.”
“With seven men.”
“Oh,” Kingdom said, in a different tone.
“I have an idea, but I need your help.”
“Well,” Kingdom replied, “like I said, all I’ve been doing is playing poker. Frankly, my ass is starting to hurt from sitting so long.”
“Good,” Shaye said, “because what I have in mind doesn’t involve much sitting.”
“Care to give me a hint?” the gunman asked.
“Yeah,” Shaye said, “when we get to my office.”
From the window of his room, Cole Doucette watched Sheriff Shaye and another man cross the street and enter the sheriff’s office.
“Nils!”
The big Swede came over to the window.
“Yah, boss?”
“The sheriff just went into his office with another man,” Doucette said. “Find Hawko and tell him I wanna know who it is.”
“I can find out, boss.”
“You’re too noticeable,” Doucette said. “Just do what I ask you to do, Nils.”
“Sure, boss.”
Doucette went back to looking out the window, wondering if the sheriff and the mayor believed anything he’d been saying to them. Probably not the sheriff. He was too smart. He was going to have to be taken care of before Doucette could get to the mayor. He’d spent too many hours in prison planning this for anything to go wrong.
“How do you want to handle this?” Kingdom asked, taking a seat in front of Shaye’s desk.
Shaye poured two cups of coffee from the office pot and handed Kingdom one, then sat at his desk.
“We had a talk with Doucette. He claims he’s not here to kill Mayor Snow, that he changed his mind. I think he’s settin’ us up, but he’s probably not gonna act for a while.”
“Which means?”
“Which means the seven men he brought with him have time to get themselves in trouble and end up in my jail.”
“Or in the ground,” Kingdom said.
“I’d prefer not, but if it comes to that . . .”
“So what do you want me to do?”
“Just back my play, whatever it turns out to be,” Shaye said. “Like you did last time. You didn’t even have to draw your gun.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and it’ll stay that way,” Kingdom commented.
“I don’t know,” Shaye said. “Doucette did a lot of time, thanks to our good mayor. I don’t think he’s about to forget it.”
“So where’s the mayor?”
“Hidin’ in his house or his office,” Shaye said.
“And Doucette’s men?”
“All I know is, they weren’t in his room with him,” Shaye said.
“This town have a whorehouse?”
“One,” Shaye said. “You mean you haven’t been there?”
“I don’t like whores very much,” Kingdom said. “But his men might.”
“They have to be somewhere,” Shaye said. “Hotels, whorehouse, maybe some saloons.”
“And wherever they are, you think they’re going to get into trouble.”
Shaye put his coffee cup down and said, “I can practically guarantee it.”
FORTY
Two days after James arrived in Nogales, Mexico, he and his brother, Thomas, stepped out of the undertaker’s office and onto the street.
“You okay?” James asked.
“I told you yesterday I was okay,” Thomas said.
Their horses, brought there earlier by James, were tied to a hitching post.
“Time to ride out, then,” James said.
Thomas nodded. “Let’s do it.”
They mounted their horses and started riding out of town. Before they could leave, however, Sheriff Montoya stepped into their path.
“Sheriff,” Thomas said. “Glad to see you. I wanted to thank you for savin’ my bacon.”
“Don’t know if you will still be thanking me, señor,” Montoya said.
“Why’s that?”
“I just heard that the Fleming brothers have joined up with the rest of their gang.”
“And you want to tell us where?” James asked.
“I want to warn you,” Montoya said. “Perhaps you will go back to the United States, back to your Vengeance Creek, while you still can.”
“Afraid we can’t do that, Sheriff,” Thomas said. “We’ve still got a job to do.”
“I cannot talk you out of it?” Montoya asked.
“ ’Fraid not,” James said, “so you should probably just tell us what you know.”
Montoya took a deep breath, then gave a fatalistic shrug of his shoulders. The two crazy gringos were not to be dissuaded.
“Two days to the south is a town called San Lupita,” he said. “The Flemings and their gang are there now.”
“And where are they headed from there?” Thomas asked.
“That I do not know, señor,” the sheriff said. “My information is limited.”
The Shayes wondered if the sheriff’s limited information was also reliable.
“Two days south,” James asked, “at what rate of travel?”
“Ah, that is a good question, señor,” Montoya said. “Perhaps it is two days at a true Mexican rate of travel. Two young gringos like you, with good horses, perhaps a day.”
The two brothers exchanged a glance.
“Directly south?” James asked.
“Directly south, señor,” Montoya said.
“Thank you, Sheriff Montoya.”
“Vaya con dios, mis amigos.”
They rode out of Nogales and headed south.
“Do you think this is reliable information?” James asked several minutes later.
“He did save my life,” Thomas pointed out, “so I guess we should take it at face value. Besides, what else have we got?”
“I guess we better ride then—at our gringo rate of travel.” Thomas laughed as they spurred their horses into a gallop.
The Shaye brothers reached San Lupita that night after dark. They considered camping outside of town when darkness fell, but were able to see some lights in the distance, so decided to push on. They rode more slowly, so as not to risk injury to the horses.
/> San Lupita was a small town. The lights were coming from only a few of the buildings, including a cantina with EL DIABLO ROJO above the doorway.
They reined in their horses in front of the cantina and dismounted.
“How many of the gang do you think would recognize us?” James asked.
“Well, the brothers for sure. With the others, it would depend on how much attention they were paying that day in the Renegade.”
James frowned. “Now I wish I’d paid more attention myself. I don’t know if I’d recognize any of them.”
“We’ll recognize them,” Thomas said, “if they go for their guns.”
They went inside the cantina. They didn’t know if it was the time of night, or if the place was always that empty. The light was bright inside, though, and the bartender smiled as they approached the bar.
“What is your pleasure, señores?” he asked.
“Dos cervezas,” Thomas said.
As the bartender fetched their beers, James asked, “How big is your town? In the dark it’s hard to tell.”
“We are small, señor,” the man said, setting their beers down on the bar.
“We saw the lights from a distance,” Thomas said, “but didn’t know if it was a town or just a house.”
“We are a town, señor,” the barman said, but he spread his arms and added, “but just barely.”
Thomas and James had decided ahead of time to play it straight. There was no time for games anymore.
“We were told that some men we’re lookin’ for might be here,” Thomas said.
“Men, señor?”
“Gringos, like us,” James said. “We’re lookin’ to join up with them.”
The bartender studied the two of them for a moment before answering.
“There were some men here, señor,” he said, finally. “First two, and then four arrived.”
“Are they still here?”
“They ate, they drank,” the man said, “they used our women, and then they left.”
“Did they hurt anybody?”
“Perhaps they were a little too rough with our putas,” the man said, “but that is what they get paid for, eh?”
“The putas,” Thomas said, “the whores, are they . . . available?”
“Si, señor,” the bartender said. “They are in the back rooms. You would like, perhaps, one each?”
“No,” James said, “just one will do.”
“For the two of you?” The man looked surprised.
Thomas took out some money. “We can pay.”
“Well, señor,” he said, “as long as you can pay . . . go through that doorway to room dos—two—and knock. Elena will let you in.” He shrugged. “Then you can tell her what you want.”
“And who do we pay?” James asked.
“You pay her, señor,” the man said. “She will be the one doing the work, no?”
“Yes,” Thomas said. “Thanks.”
James started to leave the bar, but Thomas put his hand on his brother’s arm. “Finish your beer. She’s not goin’ anywhere.”
“Right,” James said, “right.”
“And when we get back there,” Thomas said, “why don’t I do the talkin’, little brother?”
“Why?”
“Well, you do get a little tongue-tied around a certain kind of woman.”
“I’ll be fine!” James groused. “Just fine.”
FORTY-ONE
They finished their beers, then walked to the doorway at the back of the room and went down a hallway to room two. Thomas knocked, and when the door opened, both brothers had to stare. Thomas thought he heard his brother’s jaw drop. The Mexican woman was all wild black hair, black eyes, and a body barely covered by a peasant blouse and skirt. She also had a bruise on her face, probably from the rough treatment the bartender had mentioned. James stared at her bare legs, then averted his eyes.
“Señores?” she said.
“The bartender said that you, uh, work here as a . . .” James trailed off.
“My brother’s tryin’ to say we’d like to pay you for some information.”
“Information?” She put her hands on her hips and stared at them in surprise. “That is all you want from me?”
“That’s it,” Thomas said.
“Then come in, come in, señores,” she said. When they were inside she asked, “And for this information would you like my clothes on or off?”
“Oh,” James said. “Uh, don’t do that. You can, uh, leave your clothes on. We just wanna talk.”
“I do not have any chairs for you to sit in,” she said, waving her arms. “I have only the bed.” In waving, the blouse fell further down her shoulders, causing James to look away again.
“Are you all right?” she asked him.
“He’s fine,” Thomas said. “Just a little shy.”
“That is sweet,” she said. “I could help him with his shyness, señor. I am very experienced.”
The girl looked to Thomas like she was a year or two younger than James, not older. But he knew for a fact she was more experienced than either one of them.
“That’s okay,” Thomas said. “Look, we have questions about some men who were here.”
“Ah, the gringo bandidos?”
“How do you know they were bandidos?” Thomas asked.
“As I said, señor,” she replied, sitting on the bed, “I am very experienced. They were bandidos. There is no doubt about that.”
“Well, we’re lawmen from the United States,” Thomas said, “and we’re huntin’ those men. Did they say anything about where they were goin’ when they left here?”
“Left here?” she asked.
“Yes,” Thomas said. “When they were, uh, done with you, where did they go?”
“But señor,” she said, “they did not go anywhere.”
“Are you sayin’ they’re still here?” James asked.
“Si, señor.”
“But . . . where?”
She stood up, spread her arms and said, “Here.”
Thomas and James looked at each other.
“They have rooms here?” Thomas asked.
“Si, señor.”
“But . . . the bartender didn’t tell us that,” Thomas said.
“Of course not, señor,” she said. “They are paying him a lot of money.”
“Great,” Thomas said.
“So now we’re trapped in here?” James asked.
“Señorita, your name is Elena, right?” Thomas asked.
“Si, señor.”
“Why are you tellin’ us this?” Thomas asked. “Won’t the bartender be mad at you?”
“I do not care if he is angry,” she said. “He does nothing to protect us from these bandidos. Pigs!” She practically spat the word out.
“Us?” James asked.
“Si, mi hermana, my sister, Isabella.”
“And where is she?”
“Down the hall, in her room.”
“Alone?”
“Probably not,” Elena said.
“How many rooms are here?” Thomas asked.
“Six.”
“Yours, Isabella’s, and four others. Are the bandidos in those?”
“Si, they are sharing.”
“Two of them are brothers,” James said. “Are they in the same room?”
“Si.”
James looked at Thomas. “What do you think? Do they know we’re here?”
“Only if the bartender told them,” Thomas said.
“If he had, wouldn’t they be in here by now?” James asked.
“You’d think so,” Thomas said. “He must have known Elena would tell us they’re here.”
“So what’s his game?” James asked.
“He is a greedy man,” Elena said, “a very greedy man.”
“If that’s the case,” Thomas said, “then maybe he wants to see if we’ll offer him more money than the Flemings did.” He looked at Elena. “Is there any law here?”
&nbs
p; “El jefe? No, señor. No law.”
Thomas looked at James. “So we’re on our own.”
“We should talk to the bartender,” James said. “If he hasn’t told them we’re here yet, we can surprise them.”
“Yeah,” Thomas said, “but we better move quietly.”
As Thomas turned, Elena suddenly grabbed his arm.
“If my sister is with them . . .”
“Don’t worry,” Thomas said. “We’ll do our best to see that you and your sister are not harmed.”
“Gracias,” she said. She released his arm, then reached past him and touched James’s cheek, making him blush.
“Tan dulce,” she said.
FORTY-TWO
Thomas opened the door, peered out and saw that the hall was deserted. He stepped out and beckoned James to follow him. They closed Elena’s door, stopped to listen, but didn’t hear anything from the other rooms.
They went back along the hall to the cantina. The bartender—Elena said Maximilian—“Max”—was his name—was still slouched behind the bar. When he saw the two lawmen, he perked up.
“More beers, señores?”
“Sure, Max,” Thomas said, “why not?”
He happily set two more beers on the bar for them and took their money.
“Max, Elena told us about the guests in your other rooms,” James said.
“Si, señor.” Max held his forefinger to his lips. “They are asleep.”
“So you haven’t told them that we’re here,” Thomas said.
“No, señor,” Max said, then added, “not yet.”
“What makes you think we just won’t kill you to keep you quiet?” Thomas asked.
“Señores,” Max said, with a smile, “you are gringo lawmen. A Mexican lawman, he would shoot me right between the eyes without hesitation. But not a gringo lawman. You are much too . . . how do you say . . . moral?”
“So if we pay you more than they paid you, you’ll keep quiet,” James said.
“Si, señor,” Max said with a shrug. “I am a simple businessman.”
“And you’re not afraid they’ll kill you when they find out?” James asked.
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