“And your men will kill me. We’ll both be at risk. Come on, let’s talk.”
Red hesitated.
“You gonna do it?” Gareth asked.
“Why not?” Red said. “Maybe I can get him to face me. Then we can kill the other one.”
“How do you know which one is talkin’?” Gareth asked.
Red grinned. “I know.”
“You can’t go out there!” James said.
Thomas took off his gunbelt, handed it to his brother.
“I’m stallin’ for time,” Thomas said. “Meanwhile, maybe I can talk him out of this. This town’s got to have a lawman. Maybe he’ll show up.”
“You think so?”
“No,” Thomas said. “Down here, the law is probably takin’ money from Red.”
“What am I supposed to do?” James asked. “Watch you die?”
“If he or his men kill me, you kill him.”
“And then I’m on my own,” James said.
“And then you’ll be on your own.”
SIXTY-TWO
Thomas stepped out of the cantina. Moments later, Red Fleming stepped from the building across the street. Neither of them was wearing a gun. At that same moment, they stepped into the street and started walking. They met in the middle.
“I knew it would be you,” Red said.
“How?”
“You’re the older one,” Red said, “like me. You’re the gun hawk, like me. What’s on your mind?”
“Stayin’ alive.”
“Funny,” Red said, “that’s what’s on my mind. Seems like we have a lot in common. Like weaker little brothers.”
“Only my brother’s not weak,” Thomas said. “If anybody puts a bullet in me, he’ll kill you.”
“Then he’ll be dead.”
“But so will you and me,” Thomas said. “We won’t know what’s goin’ on.”
“So? You got a proposition?”
“I do,” Thomas said. It had occurred to him just as he was crossing the street. “You and me, Red. Your brother says you’re fast. Let’s see how fast.”
“And then what?”
“If I kill you, we all go free,” Thomas said.
“And if I kill you?”
“Well, you could let my brother go, but somehow I don’t believe you would.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“Well,” Thomas said, “first things first. You and me. What about it?”
“Why not?” Red asked. “Should be interestin’. You’re supposed to be pretty fast.”
“So are you. I don’t suppose your men would go along with any decision you make if I end up killin’ you.”
“Probably not,” Red said. “My brother might not let them.”
“Well, we need to agree on one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Whichever of us survives has to be allowed to get back across the street, and not be shot down.”
“Sure, why not?” Red said. “I’d like the chance to get back to cover.”
“What makes you think it’ll be you?”
“I guess we’ll find out,” Red said. “That’s what makes it interestin’.”
They talked a little longer, then both turned and returned to their building. James watched nervously with his gun ready. If anything happened to his brother, Red Fleming wouldn’t be able to take one more step.
When Thomas came back in, James released the breath he was holding.
“So?”
“He’ll go for it.”
“Go for what?”
“I got him to agree to a one-on-one between him and me.”
“What’s that accomplish?”
“I get to kill him.”
“And if he kills you?”
“Then you get to kill him.”
“That’s your big plan?”
Thomas took his gunbelt from James and said, “Let me know if you think of a better one. You’ve got thirty seconds.”
“This is crazy!” Harry said as Red took his gunbelt back.
“No it ain’t,” Red said, strapping it on. “I get to kill the deputy who arrested you.”
“And then what?” Harry asked.
“And then we all get to kill the other one.”
“And what are we supposed to do if he kills you?” Gareth asked.
“That’ll be up to you and my brother,” Red said. “Harry knows where I’ve got some money stashed. He’ll be able to pay you all.”
“If we kill the other brother,” Gareth said.
“Right.”
That brought back to Gareth’s mind the idea of burning the deputy out. He didn’t really care if the whole town went up in flames.
“But I’ll be back,” Red said.
“How sure are you?” Gareth asked,
“Dead sure.”
“I wish I was as confident,” the man said.
“My brother’s the fastest gun alive!” Harry said. “If he says he’ll be back, he’ll be back.”
Gareth pointed at Harry. “You just make sure you remember where that money is.”
“Okay,” Red said, adjusting his gunbelt. “I’m ready. This is gonna be a fair fight. Nobody shoots—unless he kills me. Got it?”
“We got it,” Gareth said.
“Red—”
Red put his hand on his brother’s shoulder and said, “I’ll be right back.”
“You better be.”
Red smiled and stepped out the door.
“No better ideas?” Thomas asked.
“Not in thirty seconds!”
“Then I’m doin’ this.”
“Are you gonna be able to outdraw him?”
“I won’t know until I try, James.”
James grabbed a handful of his brother’s shirt front.
“Pa always says you’re faster than he is!”
“That would be comfortin’ if Pa’s reputation was as a fast gun, but it’s not. It’s as a tough lawman.”
“Just don’t get killed!” James said.
“I’ll do my best.”
They both peered out the door.
“There he is,” James said.
Thomas put his hand on his brother’s shoulder and said, “I’ll be right back.”
“You better be!”
SIXTY-THREE
Thomas and Red Fleming stood in front of their respective doorways for a minute, then stepped down into the street. Instead of approaching each other, they began moving to their right, looking for an advantage. Because of the position of the sun and location of the town, neither would have the sun at their back.
But Thomas wanted James to have a clear shot at Red Fleming, and Red wanted his men to have a clear shot at Thomas Shaye. So they moved until they were both standing in the center of the street, with buildings on either side.
And facing each other . . .
“Are we gonna do this?” Harry asked. “Just watch?”
“That’s what Red wants,” Gareth said. “He’s the boss.”
“If he gets killed—”
“Just keep watchin’, little brother,” Gareth said, “and remember where that money is. Whether he comes back in here or not, we’re gonna wanna get paid.”
“You’ll get paid,” Harry said, “after both those deputies are dead.”
Gareth looked at Harry. “Spoken like your brother.”
James didn’t have a rifle, and the shotgun was worthless for this. The buckshot pattern would be too wide by the time it reached Red Fleming to do more than sting him. So he put the shotgun down and drew his gun.
As he watched, the sweat came pouring down his brow, and it had nothing to do with the Mexican heat.
Thomas felt the sweat rolling down his back. His father had once told him if you weren’t afraid during a gunfight, you weren’t approaching it with the right mindset.
“There’s always gonna be a faster gun than you out there, son,” Dan Shaye said, “and one day he’ll find you.”
So Thoma
s had to wonder.
Was today the day?
Red Fleming had lost track of the number of men he’d killed. He didn’t count. That wasn’t what was important to him. What was important was that he walked away, every time, with not a scratch.
And that was what he expected to happen, this time.
Who made the first move didn’t usually matter. It was who made the last move that counted.
Thomas couldn’t see Red’s eyes, so he watched the man’s shoulders, not his hands.
“You’ll usually see a man’s move in his shoulder, first,” Dan Shaye had told him years ago. “Watch for it.”
Thomas watched, and there was the slightest hitch in Red Fleming’s shoulder just before he went for his gun.
“The fast draw ain’t the thing,” his father had also told him. “It’s the shot that counts. It’s got to be accurate.”
Thomas drew and fired.
As Harry watched, Thomas’ bullet struck Red in the chest before Red could draw his gun. He watched his older brother stagger back and fall to the ground, and then went for his own gun.
Gareth grabbed his wrist and stopped him.
“Red said a fair fight.”
“You wanna get paid?” Harry demanded. “You kill that sonofabitch now or nobody gets paid. Understand?”
It didn’t take Gareth a tenth of a second to make up his mind.
“Gun ’im!” he snapped to his men.
James was relieved when Red Fleming fell onto his back, but he didn’t take the time to celebrate. Thomas was still out there in the middle of the street. He saw the rifle barrels across the street push out the window, and he started firing.
Thomas waited a full second too long.
Red Fleming was dead, and he was alive. It took him that full second to process the information, and then he was moving as the shots started.
There was a horse trough in front of the cantina, and he dove for it. At the same time, his and James’s horses panicked, pulled free of the hitching post and ran off. For a moment the horses shielded Thomas from view. By the time the horses were gone, he was behind the trough and lead was slamming into it, puncturing it with holes from which the water poured out.
He got to his knees and, while James reloaded, he started to fire. They were still outgunned, but at least something was happening now.
The waiting was over.
And then, suddenly, riders were coming down the street at full speed. He looked to see who it was, and saw the company of federales they had been hiding from for days.
The man in charge was at the head of the column, and he started barking orders. Before long, the uniformed federales were leading Harry Fleming and his men out into the street, and doing the same to Thomas and James.
Sheriff Pedro Arroyo came running up the street and started chattering in Spanish with the commander.
The federales put all the men together on one side of the street and covered them.
“I wonder what they’re sayin’,” James asked.
“The sheriff is telling the captain that he didn’t know what was happenin’ in his town until the shootin’ started,” Gareth translated. “The captain doesn’t believe him.”
“Good,” Thomas said.
And then the federales took the sheriff’s gun, ripped the badge from his shirt, and lined him up with the others.
The captain walked to the body of Red Fleming, looked at it for a moment, then came back.
“You,” he said, pointing at Harry. “That was your brother?”
“Yeah,” Harry said, “and those men killed him. Shot him down in cold blood.”
“That’s not true!” James snapped. “They were tryin’ to kill us. We’re lawmen from Arizona—”
“I know who you are, señor,” the captain said. “You will kindly be silent, please.” He turned his attention back to Harry. “I warned you and your brother, señor, not to break the law in Mexico. Now you will pay the price.”
“Me?” Harry shouted. “What about them?”
The captain turned to his sergeant and gave an order in rapid Spanish. Abruptly, Harry Fleming and the other men were herded together and marched away, with Harry still shouting. The sheriff was taken with them.
Then and only then did the captain turn his attention to Thomas and James.
“Those men will be going to a Mexican prison,” he said.
“And us?” Thomas asked.
“You will be escorted to the border, where you will leave Mexico and not return.”
“Agreed,” Thomas said.
“Wait a minute!” James said. “We came here for Harry Fleming.”
“Is he the brother of that one?” the captain asked, pointing to the body of Red Fleming.
“Yes,” Thomas said. He looked at James. “We got Red, James. We can let the Mexicans have Harry.”
“But we don’t know which one of them killed—”
“You will mount up and ride,” the captain ordered. “I will send several men to escort you. Ah, here are your horses.”
Thomas and James turned and saw a uniformed federale leading their horses back.
“What, now?” James asked. “We’re to leave right now?”
“How do you Americans say it?” the captain asked. “The sooner the better!”
SIXTY-FOUR
Shaye looked Vin Packer up and down.
“Are you ready, Vin?” Doucette asked.
“I’ve been ready, Mr. Doucette,” Vin said.
Doucette looked at Shaye.
“I don’t suppose you’d want to take off that badge, drop it in the dirt, and walk away?”
“No,” Shaye said.
“I didn’t think so. You’re not the type.”
“What type am I, Doucette?”
“The type who’ll die with that stupid silver star on your chest.”
“And you,” Shaye said. “You’re the type to let other men do your killin’ for you.”
Doucette smiled.
“I know my limitations, Sheriff,” Doucette said. “I can kill the mayor easily. You’re another matter. For you I need a specialist.”
“And you’ve robbed the cradle to get one,” Shaye said.
“Hear that, Vin?” Doucette said. “The sheriff’s not taking you seriously.”
“That would be a mistake, sir,” Vin said. Shaye wasn’t sure if he was talking to Doucette, or to him.
“All right, then,” Shaye said, “let’s get it over with.”
“That’s exactly how I feel,” Doucette said.
Shaye moved into the street with the kid. It immediately became apparent something was going to happen. People started to gather; word had begun to get around.
“There you go, Vin,” Doucette said. “You’re gettin’ your crowd.”
“Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Shaye,” Vin said.
“That’s okay, son,” Shaye said, watching the boy’s shoulders. “You make the first move.”
“I’ll outdraw you clean,” Vin warned.
It’s not the draw that counts . . .
The boy actually had a terrible hitch in his shoulder just before he was going to draw. Shaye wondered how he had survived this long. Then he saw why. Despite the hitch, Vin’s draw was incredibly fast. He outdrew Shaye clean as a whistle, but by then Shaye was moving, throwing himself to the ground as he drew, and rolling. By the time he came to a stop, Vin had fired twice, sending his bullets to where Shaye had been standing. Shaye fired from the ground and drilled the boy right through the chest. Vin staggered back, a look of amazement on his young face, and then he crumpled rather than fell.
Shaye got to his feet quickly and looked at Doucette, who was still sitting in his chair, looking calm.
“Well,” the outlaw said, “that was something to see. He outdrew you clean, Sheriff.”
“Yes, he did.”
Shaye walked to the boy’s body, kicked the gun away, bent just to make sure he was dead. Then he holstered his gun, slapped the dirt of
the street off the front of his clothes, and walked over to Doucette.
“Let me have your gun, Cole, and we’ll take a walk to the jail.”
“You’re arresting me?”
“I am.”
“For what? I never moved from this chair.”
“We’ll come up with somethin’,” Shaye assured him.
Doucette’s men were surprised to see him in the jail.
“You finally come to get us out?” Santini asked.
“Sorry, boys,” Shaye said, “but Mr. Doucette is checkin’ in.”
Because he had so many of Doucette’s men in cells, he’d had to double up. Now he had to add Doucette to a cell, making three people in that cell. Only the other two weren’t real happy with Doucette for leaving them in there all this time.
“Well, well,” Ledbetter said to Santini, “look who’s joinin’ the party. The big man himself.”
“What happened to the kid?” Santini asked Shaye. “Packer?”
“He’s dead.”
“Ha!” Ledbetter said, looking at Doucette, “he was your secret weapon, right?”
Doucette smiled. “I’ve got other aces up my sleeve.”
Shaye unlocked the door to the cell holding Ledbetter and Santini.
“You can’t put me in there with them,” Doucette said. “I want my own cell.”
“Sorry. Can’t oblige you,” Shaye said. “We’re full up.”
“Then put them in with somebody else,” Doucette said, getting agitated. “I want my own cell.”
Shaye opened the door and said, “Get in there.”
The two men were smiling in anticipation. First he made them leave the Renegade Saloon when they were having a good time, then they got arrested and he left them in these cells for days. Time for a little payback.
“Look, Shaye,” Doucette said, “this isn’t right—”
Shaye put his hand against Doucette’s back and shoved him into the cell. Ledbetter and Santini caught him, each holding onto one arm.
“Take it up with them.”
EPILOGUE
One week later . . .
When Thomas and James came riding back into Vengeance Creek it seemed quiet—too quiet. It was just after noon, and the streets should have been busy with people.
“I don’t like the way this feels,” James said.
“Let’s find Pa.”
Return to Vengeance Creek Page 19
