Vengeance Creek Read online

  “You still want to go ahead with the job?”

  “I’ve planned it too long to let it go now,” Cardwell said. “We know who Shaye is, and his sons. We can deal with them.”

  Jacks sat back in his chair and stared at Cardwell.

  “Well, you’re the planner,” he said finally. “What do you want to do?”

  “We’ve got the deputies watchin’ us,” Cardwell said. “Chances are they’ve been so busy doin’ that, they haven’t even noticed you and the others.”

  “Nobody’s checking into a hotel,” Jacks said. “They’ll bed down wherever they find room. I don’t want their names showing up on hotel registers. Let ’em sleep in a boardinghouse, stable, I don’t care.”

  “That’s good.”

  “What about Shaye himself?” Jacks asked. “Is he watching like the others?”

  “No,” Cardwell said. “We haven’t even talked to him. I’ve only spoken with the oldest son. I think his name is Thomas.” He looked at Jacks. “Do you know Shaye?”

  “No,” the man said, “but I’ve heard of him.”

  “He’s old,” Cardwell said. “He got to be fifty. Can’t be the man he used to be.”

  “Man enough to track down the entire Langer gang with only his two sons.”

  “Okay, okay,” Cardwell said, “so we’ll be careful. We’re still gonna do this, Simon.”

  “Hey,” Jacks said, “just point me in the direction you want me to go.”

  “What about the others?” Cardwell asked. “Will they recognize the lawman’s name?”

  “Maybe not,” Jacks said, “but why do they have to hear it?”

  “Good point.”

  “Get us another couple of beers,” Jacks said, “and we’ll drink to gettin’ this done.”

  15

  Thomas didn’t like the fact that James was not in front of the hotel. The men must have moved after it got dark and he’d followed them—but to where?

  After he left the hotel he kicked himself for not going inside and checking with the clerk. Maybe one or both of the men had gone to their room. And maybe his father was right, and they were just a couple of drifters. Maybe he’d overreacted at the Road House when one of them bumped him and spilled his beer. If he’d let it go, there would have been no confrontation.

  But one of them—the one called Cardwell—he was too slick for Thomas’s liking. There was something about him that said he was more than a drifter.

  He stopped in the street, halfway between the hotel and the sheriff’s office. Should he go back and check? Or should he keep looking for James? He hadn’t passed his brother on the way, so apparently James hadn’t gone back to the office.

  There was only one other part of town they could have gone to.

  James followed Sean Davis to the Road House Saloon but did not go in after him. Maybe the man had a one-track mind and was looking for Thomas. James got close enough to the window to look inside. He saw Davis standing at the bar, but his brother was nowhere in sight. He decided to stay right there by the window so he could watch the man’s every move. Because he was so intent on this, he was startled when Thomas came up next to him.

  “Jesus!” he said. “You scared the hell out of me!”

  “Sorry,” Thomas said. “When I found you were gone from the hotel, I got worried. Are they inside?”

  “One of them is.”

  Thomas leaned to look in the window. “That’s Davis. Where’s the other one, Cardwell?”

  “He went into the hotel. I had to decide whether to stay there or follow this one, and I needed to decide fast.”

  “Don’t sound so defensive,” Thomas said, putting his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You did the right thing.”

  “Thanks, Thomas.”

  “What’s he been doin’ in there?”

  “Just drinkin’.”

  “Pa’s probably right.”

  “About what?”

  “He said they were probably just driftin’ through,” Thomas explained, “just like they said.”

  James looked at his brother, whose face was bathed in yellow light from inside the saloon.

  “But you don’t believe that.”

  “Somethin’ just doesn’t feel right to me.”

  “Should we go in?” James asked.

  “No,” Thomas said, “that would be askin’ for trouble.”

  “What, then?”

  Thomas straightened, moved away from the window. “Let’s just forget it.”

  “What?”

  “This whole thing got started because of me,” Thomas said. “I say let it drop. Leave them alone. They’ll probably leave town tomorrow, anyway.”

  “But—”

  “And by spending so much time and attention on them, who knows what we’ve missed?”

  “What about Pa?” James asked. “He’s been around. Nothin’ gets by him.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, Pa hasn’t been himself lately,” Thomas said.

  “Neither have we, I think.”

  “You’re right about that,” Thomas said. “This…anniversary has been hard on all of us.”

  “The anniversary of Ma’s death,” James said. “Matthew didn’t die till later—weeks later. What’s gonna happen when that day’s anniversary comes?”

  “I don’t know,” Thomas said, laying his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I guess we’ll just have to be better prepared for that day. Come on, we’ve had a long day of wasting time on these two.”

  Older brother tugged younger brother away from the saloon, with James casting dubious glances back. He wasn’t sure about his brother’s decision, but he allowed himself to be led away.

  As Thomas led James away from the Road House, he wondered if he should tell him about their father’s conversation with the mayor. But no, his pa wanted to do that himself. But not tonight. Thomas thought if he took James home now maybe he could get his brother to turn in before their father got home. He knew his father wouldn’t wake James, but would wait until morning. And maybe, in the light of a new day, everything would look a little better.

  Shaye sat as his desk, grateful that this day was coming to an end. He too was remembering when Matthew died, and that they still had the first anniversary of that day to live through. Once they were past that, then maybe they could get on with their lives. If the boys did both choose to go off on their own, then it would be up to him to decide their next move. Was Vengeance Creek just a stop along the way?

  And if so, along the way to where?

  16

  When Cardwell looked out the window the next morning, he was surprised. Neither of the deputies were across the street.

  “Wake up!” he shouted at Sean Davis, snoring in the next bed.

  “Wha…?” Davis came awake and grabbed for his gun, which was resting on the dresser across the way. Cardwell had learned long ago that the other man’s first instinct upon waking was to go for his pistol.

  “Wake up, Sean,” Cardwell said. “Come on, we need to talk.”

  Davis looked at Cardwell and tried to focus his eyes. “Whatsamatta?” he asked.

  “Were you followed to the saloon last night?” Cardwell asked.

  Davis frowned. “I dunno.”

  “Damn it!” Cardwell walked across the room, picked up the pitcher of water that was on the dresser, and dumped the contents over Sean Davis’s head.

  “Hey—Wha—” Davis sputtered as he leaped from the bed. “What the hell are you doin’?”

  “Tryin’ to wake you up.”

  “Well, I’m awake!” Davis shouted. He ran his hands over his wet face, then looked down at himself.

  “Then listen to me,” Cardwell said. “And answer my questions. Did the deputy follow you last night?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, think about it,” Cardwell said. “I saw him leave after you, but did he follow you? Did he watch you all night? Did he trail you back here? Come on, man!”

  “I dunno!” D
avis said. “I drank a lot. I can’t remember.”

  “Well, they’re not outside today,” Cardwell said, looking out the window again.

  Davis finally started to wake up. He began stripping his wet long johns off.

  “That’s a good thing, right?”

  Cardwell looked at him. “I adjusted my plan to include them. If they’re not around, I’ll have to adjust again.”

  “Go back to the original plan.”

  “It must be nice to have nothin’ goin’ on in your head,” Cardwell said.

  “Least I sleep soundly.”

  Cardwell was aware that he didn’t sleep well, tended to toss and turn most of the night.

  “Get yourself dressed,” he said. “We have a busy day today.”

  Naked, Davis reached down and scratched his crotch. Cardwell averted his eyes, said, “I’ll meet you downstairs,” and left.

  Cardwell went down to the lobby, hoping to see one of the deputies there. He was disappointed. Now he wasn’t sure which plan to go with, which distressed him, but he was sure of one thing.

  The Vengeance Creek bank was getting robbed today.

  Shaye woke to the smell of bacon. When he got down to the kitchen, he found his youngest son making breakfast.

  “James?”

  “Eggs and bacon, Pa,” James said. “I remember watchin’ Ma make it.”

  Shaye also smelled something burning, and wrinkled his nose at it. He looked over at the oven, where smoke was apparently in the process of dissipating.

  James saw where his father was looking and said, “I guess I didn’t watch so carefully when it came to biscuits.”

  “What’s that smell?” Thomas asked, coming into the room.

  “Your brother made breakfast.”

  “Made it,” Thomas asked, “or burned it?”

  “Sit down, shut up, and eat,” Shaye said, taking a seat at the table.

  James served out three plates of scrambled eggs and bacon, and then placed a platter of burnt biscuits on the table. He finished by putting out three cups of coffee, then sitting down himself.

  “You came in late last night, Pa,” Thomas said.

  “I was at the office.”

  “Workin’?”

  Shaye shrugged. “Thinkin’, mostly.”

  “About what, Pa?” James asked, which drew a look from his older brother.

  “About us, mostly,” Shaye said, not noticing the exchange. “What we’re gonna do, where we’re gonna go, that sort of thing.”

  “Not thinkin’ about those two strangers?” James asked.

  “Can’t suspect every stranger who comes to town, James,” Shaye said. “What’d they do last night, by the way?”

  “One of them turned in early,” Thomas said, “the other one went to the Road House Saloon. We left him there and came home.”

  “Just as well,” Shaye said. “There have probably been some other strangers who came into town while you boys were occupied with them and I was…well, distracted.”

  “Maybe we should check into that today,” Thomas said. “Me and James can check the hotels and rooming houses, maybe even stop in at the saloons.”

  “That sounds good,” Shaye said. “Why don’t you boys do that?”

  “And what are you gonna do, Pa?” Thomas asked.

  “Me?” Shaye asked. “I’m gonna work on gettin’ my head on straight.”

  17

  Cardwell and Davis stepped out of the hotel and looked around.

  “Maybe they are watchin’ us,” Davis said, “only we can’t see them.”

  Cardwell lifted his head, as if smelling the air. “No,” he said. “I’d know if I was bein’ watched.”

  “Then why did they stop?”

  “Maybe we convinced them we’re harmless.”

  Davis smiled. “Well, they’re gonna learn that’s wrong, ain’t they, Ben?”

  “A lot of people are gonna learn somethin’ new today.”

  Thomas and James left the house before their father, stopping just outside to discuss their options.

  “Let’s split up,” Thomas said. “We’ll cover more ground.”

  “We can cover each other’s backs if we stay together,” James argued.

  “Cover each other from what?” Thomas asked. “You heard what Pa said. We can’t suspect every stranger. All we got to do today is identify them.”

  “Okay,” James said with a shrug. “You’re the big brother.”

  “Hey,” Thomas said, “we’re equal as deputies, aren’t we?”

  “We are?” James asked, looking after his brother as Thomas walked off.

  Simon Jacks had the luxury of getting himself a hotel room, while the other five men just had to find a place to lay their heads for the night—as long as it wasn’t someplace where they had to write their names down, like a hotel. They could have used phony names, but Jacks didn’t even want anyone to be able to count the bodies.

  Jacks’s hotel was a small, run-down building on a side street, because all he needed was a bed. When he came out and found Cardwell waiting for him, he was surprised.

  “What the hell?” he said.

  “They’re gone,” Cardwell said.

  “Where?”

  “Who knows?” Cardwell said. “All I know is they ain’t watchin’ us right now, so it’s time to go.”

  “Where’s Davis?”

  “He’ll be there. The others?”

  “They’ll be ready.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  Nancy Timmerman entered the bank and exchanged good-mornings with the other employees.

  “Nancy?”

  She turned and saw the manager, Fred Baxter, standing in the doorway of his office.

  “Yes, Mr. Baxter?”

  “Would you come inside for a moment, please?”

  He turned and went into the office, and Nancy shuddered. He wasn’t as old as her father, but he was close, and she hated the way he looked at her. He’d given her the job because of her father, and so far all he’d done was look at her. Maybe today was the day he crossed the line, and she’d have to give up the job because of it—or ask her father to fire the man, since he owned the bank. So far she hadn’t been brave enough to talk to her father about it, because he wanted her to learn the banking business. She thought that if she were a son—which her father always wanted and had never gotten—he probably would have installed her as assistant manager instead of as a lowly teller.

  She steeled herself, then marched into the manager’s office to see what he wanted.

  Cardwell and Jacks approached the bank slowly, eyeing their men, who were scattered about the area of the bank.

  “Where’s Davis?” Jacks asked.

  “He’s bringin’ the horses.”

  “Why’d you give him that job?” Jacks asked. “He didn’t complain about that?”

  “Originally I was gonna take him into the bank with us, but I decided not to. Since you and me are the only ones who are gonna get full shares, it might as well be just us.”

  Jacks checked his pocket watch. “Bank’ll open in five minutes.”

  “And we’ll make our withdrawal one minute after that,” Cardwell said.

  Jacks looked around. “I still can’t believe those deputies aren’t somewhere around here,” he said.

  “If they do show up,” Ben Cardwell said, “we’ll make them sorry they did.”

  18

  Thomas Shaye was checking hotels at one end of town, while James was checking rooming houses at the other. Dan Shaye was still in his house. When Ben Cardwell and Simon Jacks entered the bank, none of the Shaye men were anywhere near it.

  Thomas read the name on the register.

  “Simon Jacks,” he said, looking at the clerk. “Says here he arrived yesterday.”

  “That’s right, Deputy.”

  “What kind of man is he?”

  The clerk shrugged. “Normal, I guess. Not a fancy man, doesn’t look like a hard case.”

  “Wha
t does he look like?”

  A shrug again. “A salesman, maybe?”

  “He have a drummer’s case, samples, anything like that?” Thomas asked.

  “No.”

  “Was he wearing a gun?”

  “Well, sure.”

  “What kind?”

  “I’m a desk clerk, Deputy,” the man said. His name was Hubert Holt, and he was about thirty.

  “You been alive long enough to see guns, Hubert,” Thomas said. “Old or new?”

  “Looked old.”

  “Clean?”

  “I guess.”

  Thomas closed the register and pushed it back at Hubert. “Where is he now?”

  “He left early.”

  “Okay,” Thomas said, “thanks.”

  He started for the door, then turned back.

  “Hubert?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Did he just leave, or did he check out?”

  “Oh, he checked out,” the clerk said. “Paid his bill and all.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  Thomas left the hotel, stopped just outside. Jacks didn’t sound like much, but he’d checked three hotels and this was the only stranger he’d found. He wondered how James was doing.

  That’s when he heard the shots.

  James had checked three rooming houses and come up empty. He was on his way to the fourth when he heard the shots, which sounded like they were coming from the center of town. One shot wouldn’t have carried, but there was a volley.

  He started running.

  Shaye had left his house and was walking toward the center of town when he heard the first two shots. Immediately, he thought of the bank, and that made him think of the Bank of Epitaph, a year ago.

  “No,” he said, “not this time.”

  He took off at a dead run.

  Moments earlier Cardwell and Jacks had walked into the bank as soon as it opened. Nancy Timmerman was still in the manager’s office, where Fred Baxter was telling her he thought she deserved more responsibility.

  Cardwell and Jacks entered and immediately drew their guns.

  “Nobody move,” Cardwell said to the employees. “First person who does dies.”

  That’s when Baxter came running out of the office, holding a gun.