Return to Vengeance Creek

by Robert J. Randisi

  “No, no,” Doucette said. “Maybe some time in your pokey will teach them a little respect for the law.” He smiled. “I know that’s what it did for me.”

  Doucette walked out.

  Shaye shook his head. The man was good. Saying all the right things, but Shaye knew a bad penny when he saw it, and Cole Doucette was as bad as they came. Whatever his plan was, he obviously didn’t need the two men in his cells to pull it off.

  But Shaye had empty cells, and there were still plenty of Doucette men out there, looking for trouble.

  Instead of going back to the Yellow Rose after leaving the sheriff’s office, Cole Doucette walked over to the Renegade Saloon. Inside he saw three of his men, two playing poker, one standing at the bar.

  He walked up to the one at the bar, took up position next to him and ordered a beer.

  “Oh, hey, boss.”

  “You hear about Chet and Roscoe gettin’ locked up, Vin?” Doucette asked.

  “Sure did,” Vin said. “We gettin’ ’em out?”

  “No, we’re not gettin’ ’em out,” Doucette said. “They’re too stupid to be out.”

  “Aw, boss—”

  “And I don’t need the rest of you gettin’ stupid, either,” Doucette said, cutting him off. “So I want you to go over there and get Ledbetter and Santini out of that game and out of this saloon. Go find someplace to drink that ain’t so busy. You got it?”

  “I got it, boss.”

  “You know where Hawko and Tayback are?”

  “No, sir, I sure don’t.”

  “What about Nils?”

  “Ain’t seem him.”

  “Well, find Nils and tell him what I told you.”

  “Sure, boss,” Vin said. “And the others—”

  “I got Hawko and Tayback,” Doucette said. “Just do what I told you to do.”

  “Sure, boss. And, uh, when are we makin’ a move?”

  “You’ll all know when to move,” Doucette said. “Just wait for my signal.”

  “And what signal is that, boss?” Vin asked.

  “Just go!”

  “I’m goin’, boss.”

  Vin walked over to the poker game, leaned in and spoke into each man’s ear. They didn’t look happy, but they waved at the dealer that they were out, and the three of them left the Renegade.

  Doucette drank half his beer and was about to leave when he saw Tate Kingdom at another poker table.

  “Hey,” he called to the bartender.

  “Yeah?”

  “Have a girl take Tate Kingdom a beer; tell ’im it’s from me.” He tossed the money on the bar.

  “Yessir.”

  Doucette picked up his beer and walked to an empty table. As he watched, the bartender gave one of the girls a beer and sent her over to the poker table. She put the beer next to Kingdom, who looked up at her. At that point, she pointed over to where Doucette was sitting.

  After she walked away, Kingdom waved at the dealer, took his beer and got up, leaving his chips behind. Obviously, he’d be going back to the table. Then he walked over to Doucette’s table.

  “Have a seat,” Doucette said. “Let’s talk.”

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Dan Shaye stood outside the Renegade, saw three of Doucette’s men come out. He decided to follow them rather than go inside and see what was happening.

  The three men walked on one side of the street, Shaye on the other. He followed along until they reached a smaller, quieter saloon called The Gold Spike. They went inside, and he took up a position across the street. He gave them time to order drinks before he crossed over and stopped just outside the batwing doors, where he could see and hear.

  “. . . we hadda leave the Renegade,” one of them was complaining. “I was about to start winnin’.”

  “The boss just said we hadda get out,” one of the other men said.

  The three of them were standing at the bar, holding beers. There were several other men in the place, one at the bar, two seated at tables. The only other occupants were the bartender and one saloon girl. She was young, but tired looking.

  “And,” the second man said, “he told us to stay outta trouble, or else we’ll get tossed in jail like Chet and Roscoe did.”

  “Ain’t we even gonna try to get ’em out?” the third man asked.

  “Naw, he said if they was dumb enough to get locked up, they could stay there.”

  “That ain’t right,” the third man said, shaking his head. “Just ain’t right.”

  “I should be winnin’ money in that poker game,” the first man complained again.

  Shaye turned away from the door, leaned against the wall next to it. He couldn’t see what was going on, but he could still hear them. The way they were grousing, it was only a matter of time before there was some trouble. All he had to do was wait.

  Doucette watched as Tate Kingdom walked to his poker game, still carrying his beer mug, and sat down. Then he finished his own beer, stood up and walked out.

  He looked up and down the street, didn’t see any of his men. Two ladies walked past and he tipped his hat to them and said, “Good day, ladies.”

  They nodded to him pleasantly and kept walking.

  He decided to take a stroll past city hall. Maybe the mayor had a window on the main street, and would see him standing out there. Yeah, that would do for now.

  That would do just fine.

  Doucette’s three men kept drinking a second beer and then, quickly, a third. Before long the saloon began to fill up, and the three men were pushing and shoving each other, still complaining about being sent from the Renegade.

  “What about a whorehouse?” one of them said. It sounded like the first man, who’d been playing poker at the Renegade. “There’s gotta be a whorehouse in town.”

  “Ask the bartender,” the third man said. “He should know.”

  “Hey, now,” the first man said. “Didn’t Doucette tell us to stay away from any cathouses? Yeah, he said that when we first got here.”

  “So what?” the first man said. “There ain’t no poker goin’ on in here, and there’s only the one saloon girl. I can’t stay in this place all night.”

  “Well,” the man who was the voice of reason said, “I ain’t goin’ to no whorehouse. I ain’t gettin’ Cole Doucette mad at me.”

  “I ain’t afraid of no Cole Doucette,” the first man said.

  “Well, you should be.”

  “Hey,” the third man said, “what about this girl? She’s kinda weary lookin’, but she’s young.”

  “Yeah, she is,” the first man said, “and she’s got pretty enough hair. Hey, sweetheart, come on over here.”

  Here it comes, Shaye thought. The waiting was going to be worth it, because these men were all the same. Given enough time, they just made the wrong decision, every time.

  Mayor Abner Snow was in his office in the city hall building, sitting at his desk. He still didn’t like the idea of hiding in his office or his house, but what else could he do? Shaye was right. He was no match for Cole Doucette.

  He took care of some business as the day wore on, but every time there was a knock at the door, he jumped out of his skin, thinking it was Doucette coming to get him.

  He stood up, walked to the window and looked down at Main Street. About to turn away, he suddenly saw the man across the street, and froze.

  Cole Doucette, looking right up at the window. He saw Snow standing there, and waved. Did the man really expect him to wave back?

  He backed away from the window so hard and fast, he banged his hip against his desk. What should he do? Stay there or leave by the back way and go to his house? Did Doucette know where he lived? He probably did. All he had to do was ask somebody.

  Everybody in Vengeance Creek knew where the mayor lived!

  FORTY-EIGHT

  Shaye heard the saloon girl say, “Ow! That hurts. Get off me!”

  That was his cue.

  He entered the saloon, saw the three men at the bar, one of them
holding the girl by the arm. He noticed one of them was not wearing a gun.

  “Come on, Ledbetter,” one of them said, “let ’er go!”

  “Shut up, Vin!” Ledbetter said. “You ain’t my boss.” It was the young man called Vin who was unarmed.

  The third man also reached for the girl.

  “Okay, I ain’t havin’ none of this,” Vin said, and backed away.

  That suited Shaye. He only had to deal with two.

  “I guess your name’s Ledbetter,” Shaye said, aloud.

  Everything in the saloon stopped.

  “What of it?” Ledbetter asked.

  “And you?” Shaye asked the other man. “What’s your name, friend?”

  The man hesitated, then said, “Santini.” He was dark-skinned, looked Mexican.

  “Well, all right, then,” Shaye said, “why don’t we let the girl go. She’s got a job to do.”

  “I know,” Ledbetter, a big, red-faced man, said, “and I want her to do it to me.”

  “I’m not gonna tell you two men, again,” Shaye said. “Let the girl go and come along.”

  Ledbetter squinted at Shaye, seemed to see the badge for the first time. He might have let up, but the man called Vin spoke up at that moment.

  “Better do as he says, Ledbetter.”

  Apparently, that didn’t sit right with the man, being told what to do by Vin.

  “We ain’t doin’ no harm, Sheriff,” he said to Shaye. “Why don’t you go and bother somebody else?”

  Shaye looked at Vin. The man backed up and raised his hands.

  “Bartender,” Shaye said, “you might wanna move out from behind there.”

  “Yessir, Sheriff.” The man quickly got out from behind the bar.

  “Now let’s go through this again,” Shaye said. “Release the girl, drop your guns and come along.”

  “Drop my gun?” Ledbetter asked. “Now, that’s a new one. You didn’t say that before. Do you know who we are, Sheriff?”

  “Two big mouths who don’t know how to treat a lady,” Shaye said.

  “This is a lady?” Ledbetter asked.

  “In this town, she’s a lady,” Shaye said, “and she deserves respect.”

  Ledbetter made a rude noise with his mouth. Shaye noticed that he wore his gun on his right hip, and was holding the girl with his right hand.

  “Ledbetter, you’re already at a bit of a disadvantage here,”

  Shaye said.

  “Howzat?” the man asked, looking confused.

  “You’re holdin’ onto her with your gunhand,” Shaye said. “If you yokels are gonna turn this into a gun battle, you’re already dead.”

  Suddenly, Ledbetter seemed to realize his position. Also, Santini didn’t look happy about it. He pulled his hand back from the girl.

  “I think we may have pushed this far enough,” he said to Ledbetter. “Sheriff, I’m givin’ up my gun.”

  “Put it on the bar,” Shaye told Santini, “and push it away.”

  Santini took the gun out carefully, set it on the bar and then sent it sliding down to the other end.

  “Okay, Ledbetter,” Shaye said, “the next move is yours.”

  Abruptly, the bigger man released the girl and put his hands up. The girl darted away from him.

  “Like I said, Sheriff,” he said, “we wuz only havin’ some fun.”

  “Well, the fun’s over,” Shaye said. “Take out your gun, put it on the bar and slide it.”

  Shaye was hoping this would get done without Vin saying another word.

  Regretfully, that was not the case.

  “Better do as he says, Ledbetter,” Vin said, “or he’ll kill ya.”

  “Shut up, Vin!” Ledbetter snapped.

  Now that his gunhand was free, Ledbetter might have been having some second thoughts about surrendering his weapon and giving up.

  “This ain’t right, Sheriff,” he complained. “We wuzn’t doin’ nothin’.”

  “You were disturbin’ the peace,” Shaye said, “and maybe there’s even an assault charge here.”

  “Assault?” Ledbetter exploded. “That’s crazy!”

  “Don’t talk yourself out of this, Ledbetter,” Shaye said. “Give it up.”

  Shaye watched the man’s eyes, and they gave him away. Dan Shaye did not consider himself a fast gun, but he knew when to draw his weapon, and he hit whatever he shot at.

  “Yer a sonofabitch,” Ledbetter swore, and went for his gun.

  FORTY-NINE

  Shaye turned the key in the cell door lock, then walked away. He had given Santini his own cell, right next to the other men.

  In the office he dropped the keys on his desk and turned to face Vin.

  “You better tell your boss he’s down to half his men.”

  “I’ll tell ’im, Sheriff,” Vin said. “What about Ledbetter’s body?”

  “I had it taken to the undertaker’s,” Shaye said. “Doucette can claim it there, if he wants.”

  “So, I can go?”

  “Sure,” Shaye said, “you were smart enough to stay out of it. Think you can stay that smart?”

  “I’m gonna give it a try,” Vin said.

  “Then go,” Shaye said, “talk to your boss.”

  “Yessir.”

  Vin turned and left the office. Shaye took a deep breath, poured himself a cup of coffee, and sat down behind his desk. Things were going okay so far, and he really hadn’t had to use his secret weapon yet.

  Then he realized he hadn’t wondered about his sons in hours.

  Feeling he’d put enough of a scare into Mayor Snow, Cole Doucette went back to the Yellow Rose Saloon and sat with a beer. It wasn’t long before Vin Packer came in, looking nervous.

  “Get a drink first,” Doucette said, as the man approached the table. “You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

  Vin went to the bar, got a whiskey, tossed it off, and came back.

  “What is it?”

  “Santini’s in jail.”

  “I thought he was smarter than that,” Doucette said. “What about Ledbetter?”

  “Dead,” Vin said. “He drew on Sheriff Shaye.”

  Doucette sat back. “Now I don’t know he was that stupid.”

  “What do we do, boss?”

  “You do just what I been tellin’ you to do, Vin,” Doucette said. “Don’t think. Just get yourself a bottle and sit.”

  Vin went to the bar, bought a bottle, and brought it back to Doucette’s table.

  “Not here, you idiot,” Doucette said. “Somewhere else.”

  “Awright, right, boss.”

  He started away, but Doucette said, “Have you seen Hawko and Tayback?”

  “No,” Vin said, “and not Nils, either.”

  “Don’t worry about him,” Doucette said, “I knew he’d get himself in trouble sooner or later.” He waved Vin away.

  There was a time when Cole Doucette had men he could count on, but that was a long time ago. Now he could only count on himself. But things were progressing as planned. The law had three of his men in jail and one at the undertaker. That ought to make the man pretty confident.

  Now Doucette just needed him to become overconfident.

  Shaye found the mayor cowering in his house.

  “He was at my office!” Snow said.

  “Who?”

  “Doucette, that’s who,” the man said.

  “He came into your office?”

  “No, he was across the street, watching me,” Snow said. “Through my window.”

  “What were you doin’ at your window?” Shaye asked. “Givin’ him a target?”

  “I was just looking down at the street,” Snow said, “and there he was.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I went out the back and came here,” Snow said. “Been here ever since.”

  “Well, I’ve got three of his men in jail, and one dead,” Shaye said.

  “Dead? You killed him?”

  “Had to,” Shaye said. “He did
n’t give me a choice.”

  “How many has he got left?”

  “He’s got four men besides himself,” Shaye said.

  “You’ve cut his force in half!”

  “Yes, I have.”

  Snow frowned.

  “You don’t sound happy about it.”

  “It’s been too easy.”

  “But . . . you had to kill one.”

  “Because he was stupid,” Shaye said.

  “What are you getting at?”

  “I think Doucette knows his men are stupid,” Shaye said. “He’s got a plan.”

  “What plan?”

  “That’s what I’m tryin’ to figure out,” Shaye said. “I’m puttin’ his men away, and he’s not blinkin’ an eye.”

  “Which means what?” the mayor asked.

  “Which probably means,” Shaye said, “that part of his plan is for me to toss all of his men in jail.”

  “But . . . for what purpose?”

  Shaye rubbed his jaw. “To make me overconfident.”

  “And are you?”

  “No,” Shaye said.

  “But you’re confident enough . . . right?”

  Shaye didn’t answer. Instead he said, “Just stay away from the windows, Mayor,” and left.

  FIFTY

  When morning came, Thomas and James were surprised with a full Mexican breakfast, prepared by the sisters, Elena and Isabella.

  They each slept in one of the rooms, after turning down the sisters’ offer to share their beds. They were more in need of sleep than sex, even with two such desirable young women.

  “That smells good,” Thomas said, coming out of the hall into the cantina.

  “Please,” Elena said, “sit down. It is almost ready.”

  James came into the room and scolded his brother.

  “Why are you makin’ these girls cook, after everythin’ they been through?”

  “No, no, señor,” Elena said, “it was our idea. We have done this to thank you.”

  “Thank us? We probably got your bartender killed, and you could’ve been next,” James said.

  “You saved us from those bandidos,” Elena said, “and you saved us from Maximilian.”

  “Saved you?” Thomas asked, as James sat across from him. “From your bartender?”

  “He was a very bad man,” Elena said, “and did not treat us well.”