Return to Vengeance Creek

by Robert J. Randisi

  “Señor,” the barman said, “I am not afraid of bandidos, or federales. If I die, what do I lose? This place?” He shrugged. “God will decide when it is my time. What I do in the meantime has no effect on the outcome. Do you see?”

  “Yeah,” Thomas said, “I see.”

  “I don’t,” James said. “You mean you’re gonna die when you die, and what you do until then doesn’t matter?”

  “Exactly, señor.”

  James looked at Thomas and at Max. “Well, that ain’t right. What we do has gotta matter somewhere along the line.”

  “If that is what you believe, señor . . .” Max said, with another shrug.

  “But—” James started, only to be cut off by his brother.

  “What any of us believes don’t matter now,” he said. “We can talk about it another time. Max, how much do you want to just keep quiet and let us do what we came here to do?”

  “Two hundred American dollars.”

  “We don’t have two hundred dollars!” James snapped.

  “That is unfortunate, señor. The bandidos you seek paid me one hundred dollars to wake them if anyone . . . suspicious rode in.”

  “I tell you what,” Thomas said. “There’s a reward due on each one of them. Once we’ve captured them, you’ll be entitled to it all.”

  Max rubbed his jaw. “That is very interesting, señor. American rewards can be very much money.”

  “Yes, they can.”

  “But what if you do not capture them?”

  “Then you’ll have their hundred dollars.”

  “Which they will want back if I have not warned them about you.”

  “I thought you weren’t afraid of bandidos?” James asked. “That is true, señor,” Max said, “but I am also not a stupid man.”

  “We should be able to come to some kind of understandin’,

  Max,” Thomas said. “I understand money, señor.”

  “Yeah,” Thomas said, “we all do.”

  FORTY-THREE

  Thomas and James gave Max, the bartender, all the money they had on them—which came to forty-three dollars—and promised much more from the rewards that would be due for the outlaws.

  “And I can keep the hundred American dollars they gave me?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Thomas said, “you can keep it.”

  So now the brothers had to figure out how to take the six men who were in the cantina’s rooms, especially if some of them were with Elena’s sister, Isabella.

  “Max, do you know if Isabella is alone in her room?” Thomas asked.

  “I do not know this, señor,” Max admitted.

  “Can you find out?”

  Max shrugged. “I can knock on her door, but if she is not alone I will wake the man with her.”

  Thomas looked at James. “Once he wakes up, he might want to come out for a drink or a piss.”

  “That might not be a bad idea,” James pointed out. “Then we could take at least one of them without the others knowing.”

  “Or two,” Max said.

  Both brothers looked at him.

  “If she is with two men,” Max added.

  “We can still handle two,” Thomas said.

  “One each,” James agreed.

  “What about it?” Thomas asked Max. “Will you go back and see?”

  “Since you’re not scared, and all,” James added.

  “I will go,” Max said, “for you, señores.”

  He poured himself a shot glass of tequila, downed it, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and came out from behind the bar.

  “Now remember,” Thomas said, “just knock loud enough for them to hear you in the room—not loud enough for everyone to hear you.”

  “And what if they are light sleepers, señor?” Max asked.

  “We’ll just deal with that if it happens,” Thomas said.

  Max went to the doorway, then started up the hall. Thomas and James remained in the cantina, just outside the hall, to watch. They were ready to draw their guns if the need arose.

  “How’s your side?” James asked, in a low voice.

  “What?”

  “Your wound,” James said. “How is it?”

  “You’re askin’ me that now?”

  “I didn’t have time before,” James said. “I mean, we rode a long way. I’m just wonderin’—”

  “My side it fine, James!” Thomas said. “Let’s concentrate on what we’re doin’ here.”

  “Okay, okay,” James said.

  Max had reached the door to Isabella’s room. He turned to indicate this to Thomas and James by pointing at it.

  Thomas nodded and waved at him to go on and do what he was supposed to do.

  The bartender listened at the door first, then proceeded to knock on it very lightly.

  They all waited. Max was about to knock again when the door opened. Thomas and James couldn’t see who had opened it, but Max and that person talked very briefly, and then the bartender came back down the hall.

  “Poor Isabella,” he said.

  “Why poor Isabella?” James asked.

  “They have been very abusive to her, señores.”

  “Why her more than Elena?” James asked.

  “I do not know,” Max said. “Perhaps because she is younger, and smaller.”

  “She’s younger than Elena?” James asked.

  “Okay, never mind that!” Thomas snapped, fighting to keep his voice low. “How many men are in there with her?”

  “One.”

  “Did he wake up when you knocked?”

  “He perhaps stirred,” Max said, “but I do not know if he woke.”

  “What did you say to Isabella?” Thomas asked.

  “I said I was checking to see if she was all right,” Max said, “and I asked who was in the room with her.”

  “Is it one of the Fleming brothers?” Thomas asked.

  “No, señor, one of their men.”

  Thomas looked at James.

  “What do we do now?” James asked.

  “Let’s give it a few minutes and see what happens,” Thomas said. “If he comes out, we’ll take him.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “Then we have to figure out a way to take them all,” Thomas said.

  They all moved quietly back to the bar, where Thomas and James still had mugs of beer waiting. Max poured himself another glass of tequila.

  “What are the chances of someone else comin’ in tonight?” Thomas asked.

  “I would say slim, señor, but . . .”

  “But what?” James asked.

  “I did not expect the two of you.” He shrugged helplessly.

  “Okay,” Thomas said, “let’s assume nobody else comes in tonight.”

  “And?” James asked.

  “That gives us time to come up with a plan.”

  “You know what Pa always says,” James said.

  “What does he say, señor?” Max asked. “Your papa?”

  “If you don’t have a plan goin’ in,” James replied, “you better have one comin’ out.”

  They all thought about that, and then Max said, “He is a very wise man, your papa.”

  FORTY-FOUR

  “So what’s our plan?” James asked.

  “Well,” Thomas said, “for one thing we gotta stop drinkin’ beer. We’ll end up too drunk to shoot straight.”

  They both drained their mugs and pushed the empties toward Max, who took them away.

  “And second?” James asked.

  “I’m still workin’ on second.”

  “Why don’t we just go into their rooms one at a time and take ’em?” James asked.

  “That’d work as long as nobody wakes up and sounds the alarm,” Thomas said. “We could also wait for them all to come out for breakfast in the morning, and get the drop on them in this room.”

  “They’re on the run,” James said. “They’ll be wearin’ their guns. In bed, the best they’ve got is their guns close by, or
on the bedpost in their gunbelts.”

  “Good point, little brother,” Thomas said. “Okay, let’s go room by room, starting with Isabella’s.”

  Thomas and James approached the doorway to the hall and looked at each other.

  “Quietly, little brother,” Thomas said.

  James nodded, and they stepped into the narrow hallway.

  From behind they heard Max come to the door. They thought he was interested in watching, but in the next moment his voice boomed, “Los Asesinos! Los Asesinos estan aqui!”

  In shock, James turned to look at the bartender. Thomas was looking ahead as the doors opened and the outlaws came running out, guns in their hands. He reached out to push James to one side while he squeezed himself against the other wall, putting as much space between them as he could.

  And then the small, enclosed space exploded in a rain of gunfire.

  Thomas fired, trying to be as accurate as he could with each shot. Next to him he could hear his brother firing as well. Lead whizzed past them as the outlaws also fired, the sound deafening in the hallway. Thomas heard cries of pain and anguish, and then the sound of gun hammers falling on empty chambers.

  And then it was over, in what seemed like hours but was actually seconds.

  Thomas looked at James. “Are you all right? Are you hit?”

  James looked down at himself, actually patting his chest and stomach.

  “I-I don’t seem to be.” He looked at Thomas. “What about you. Is that blood?”

  Thomas looked down, saw the blood on his shirt, patted himself the way his brother had done.

  “That’s the old wound,” Thomas said. “I haven’t been hit again.”

  “In this hall,” James said, “how is it possible neither one of us was hit?”

  “I don’t know,” Thomas said. They looked at the outlaws, saw the bodies on the floor. “They weren’t so lucky.”

  They walked to the fallen bandido and checked each one.

  “Dead,” Thomas said.

  “Here, too,” James said.

  When they were through, they realize there were four bodies.

  “The Fleming boys ain’t here,” Thomas said.

  Two doors opened, and Elena and a small girl who was obviously her sister, Isabella, peered out.

  “Es seguro?” Isabella asked.

  “Is it safe?” Elena translated.

  “Just a minute,” Thomas said.

  There was only one closed door. Thomas and James reloaded and walked to it. As Thomas nodded, they slammed it open and burst into the room, guns ready. All they found was an empty interior and an open window.

  “Sonofabitch!” Thomas said. “They let their gang engage us and lit out.”

  “Damn it!” James swore.

  They walked back out into the hall and told the two girls, “It’s safe.”

  The sisters came out and embraced each other.

  Thomas and James walked to the end of the hall and found Max lying there, riddled with bullets.

  “Jesus,” James said, “it looks like every shot they fired hit him.”

  “And not us,” Thomas said, holstering his gun. “I think that, at least, calls for a drink.”

  “Shouldn’t we go after Red and Harry?”

  “In the dark?” Thomas asked. “We’ll kill ourselves or the horses.”

  They walked to the bar. Thomas got behind it and drew two beers.

  “You think they’ll keep goin’ south?” James asked.

  “Why would they head back to the border?” Thomas asked. “They’ve got to lie low for a while, and there’s no better place for that than Mexico.”

  The two girls came out, still with their arms around each other, and looked down at the dead bartender.

  “We’re sorry,” Thomas said, starting to apologize for Max getting killed, “but he—”

  They both interrupted him by spitting on Max’s lifeless body. “Never mind,” Thomas said.

  FORTY-FIVE

  Dan Shaye finally decided that the one place Doucette and his men could not avoid forever was the Renegade Saloon.

  The next day he managed to locate most of Doucette’s men. Three of them got rooms in a local rooming house, while the other three found lodging in various hotels. The only one in the same hotel as Doucette was a big Swede named Nils.

  Two of Doucette’s men made it easy. They went into the Renegade, got into a poker game—not with Kingdom—and then got into a fight with some of the other players. Shaye, who had been on the lookout for trouble, immediately got the drop on them and took them into custody.

  “You can’t put us in here for fightin’!” one of them shouted as he locked their cells.

  “Fightin’s against the law in this county,” Shaye told them.

  “How long we gonna be in here?” the other one asked.

  “That depends,” Shaye said, but he didn’t bother telling them on what. He went out and closed the cell block door, even while they were still hollerin’.

  Mayor Snow rushed into the sheriff’s office. Shaye was surprised to see the man outside his house or his own office.

  “What’s on your mind, Mayor?”

  “Is that your plan?” Snow asked. “Lock up Doucette’s men. That still leaves him free to kill me.”

  “I thought you believed him when he told you that he didn’t want to kill you?”

  “Well, no,” Snow groused, “you talked me out of that.”

  “Then why ain’t you home where it’s safe?”

  The mayor drew himself up to his full medium height and said, “I can’t hide forever. What kind of message does that send to the town about their mayor?”

  “That he’s smart?”

  “That he’s a coward!” the mayor snapped. “I may be a coward, but I don’t want the townspeople knowing that.”

  “Mayor,” Shaye said, “it ain’t cowardly to know your limitations. You’re on watch for Doucette if he comes after you. Therefore, the best thing for you to do is to stay outta sight.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  “Well,” the mayor said, “since it’s your idea, Sheriff, I’ll do that. I’ll stay out of sight. If you need me, I’ll either be at my house, or city hall.”

  “Okay,” Shaye said, “if I need you, that’s where I’ll look.”

  As the mayor opened the door to go out, Tate Kingdom appeared. The gunman allowed the mayor to leave, the two men looking each other over, and then entered himself.

  “Who’s that?” Kingdom asked.

  “That’s our illustrious mayor.”

  “He’s what this is all about?”

  “He is,” Shaye said. “What are you doin’ here?”

  “I was takin’ a break from my game and heard you nabbed two of Doucette’s men.”

  “I did,” Shaye said. “They’re in cells.”

  “Sorry I wasn’t there for back-up.”

  “That’s okay,” Shaye said. “I was able to handle two.”

  “What do you think Doucette will do when he hears?”

  “He might come and have a talk,” Shaye said, “but there ain’t much he can do, unless he and his other men wanna break them out.”

  “Want me to hang around here a while?” Kingdom asked.

  “No,” Shaye said, “I don’t want Doucette to know that you’re backing me, yet. Let’s keep him guessin’.”

  “That’ll keep his confidence up,” Kingdom said, “unless you can jail more of his men.”

  “Don’t worry,” Shaye said. “They’ll get themselves into trouble. The problem with Doucette’s plan, whatever it is, is that he’s givin’ them time to shoot themselves in the foot.”

  “Well, okay,” Kingdom said, “but I’ll be ready to jump in when the time is right—or when things get too hot.”

  “Appreciate that, Kingdom.”

  The gunman touched his hat and left the office.

  Cole Doucette had found himself a smaller saloon than the Renegade
to hang his hat. He was sitting at a table in the Yellow Rose when Sam Hawko and Paul Tayback came in.

  “Boss, Sheriff Shaye just locked up two of our boys,” Hawko said.

  “That so?”

  “Whataya wanna do about it, boss?” Paul Tayback asked.

  “Relax, boys,” Doucette said, “I’ve got this covered. Have a beer.”

  They went to the bar, got a beer each, then came back and sat down.

  “We just gonna leave ’em there?” Hawko asked.

  “Who are they?”

  “Chet and Roscoe.”

  “They’re stupid,” Doucette said, “if I get them out, they’ll just get themselves tossed back in again.”

  “But boss, whatabout—” Tayback started, but Doucette cut him off.

  “I’ll go and have a talk with the sheriff,” he said. “Don’t you boys worry about it.”

  “There’s somethin’ else,” Hawko said.

  “What?”

  “We just saw Tate Kingdom comin’ outta the sheriff’s office.”

  “Again?”

  When Doucette had sent Hawko to find out who the man with Shaye was, it had been Kingdom. Now the gunman was in there again.

  “What do we do about him?” Tayback asked. “If he decides to take sides—”

  “You boys are tryin’ to do too much thinkin’,” Doucette said. “That’s my job. Just take it easy, stay out of trouble, and wait for my signal.”

  The two men nodded.

  “And go,” Doucette added. “Sit somewhere else. I wanna be by myself.”

  “Sure, boss,” Hawko said.

  The two men stood up, and then Tayback turned back. “Uh, boss, what’s the signal?”

  “You’ll know when you see it, Tayback,” Doucette said. “Now beat it.”

  FORTY-SIX

  Dan Shaye looked up from his desk as his office door opened.

  He was not surprised to see Cole Doucette enter.

  “What brings you around here, Mr. Doucette?” he asked.

  “I understand you have a couple of my boys in here, Sheriff.”

  “That’s right.”

  “You mind tellin’ me what you’re chargin’ them with?”

  “Disturbin’ the peace.”

  Doucette nodded. “That sounds about right.” He turned to leave.

  “You don’t want to try to bail them out?” Shaye asked.