Vengeance Creek

by Robert J. Randisi

  Later in the afternoon, Thomas came to join him.

  James was sitting in a wooden chair outside the general store. Thomas perched his hip on a nearby barrel and looked across the street.

  “What have they been doin’?” he asked.

  “Nothin’,” his brother said. “Just sittin’ there, all afternoon.”

  “That’s it?”

  James shrugged.

  “Anybody talk to them?”

  “Thomas,” James said, shaking his head, “they hardly have said a word to each other.”

  “Well,” Thomas said, “why don’t you take a break and I’ll watch for a while.”

  “You won’t get any argument from me,” James said, standing up. “I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.”

  Thomas took his brother’s place in the chair. “Take a couple of hours, James,” he said.

  Before he left, James said, “You might want to think about something I’ve been wondering about for a while.”

  “Like what?”

  “If they strand up and go separate ways,” James asked, “which one will you follow?”

  “You’re right,” Thomas said. “I’ll have to give that some thought.”

  As James walked away, Thomas looked at the two men across the street and instinctively knew which one he would follow.

  “They changed deputies,” Davis said.

  “I can see that.”

  “So…what are we gonna do?”

  “Have you been keeping count?” Cardwell asked.

  “Of what?”

  Cardwell closed his eyes. “Okay, how many of our men have ridden in since we’ve been sittin’ here?”

  “Uh…a few?”

  “Six,” Cardwell said. “Six of our men are here.”

  “Six…well, hey, that’s all of them.”

  “Right,” Cardwell said, glad that at least Davis knew that much. “So we’re all in place.”

  “Except us,” Davis said.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Cardwell said, “when the time comes we’ll be in position.”

  The other six men had strict instructions from Cardwell not to be seen together in more than twos. They also had instructions to ignore both Cardwell and Davis whenever they saw them. And their final direction from Cardwell was when to be at the bank, because that’s what they were all in town to do—rob the bank.

  But Cardwell had the robbery mapped out in steps, and each of the men had his own steps to take. In the event the job was called off, Cardwell would make direct contact with the others or would have Davis do it.

  But so far Ben Cardwell had not seen anything in town that would make him change his plans. The sheriff might have been impressive when he was younger, but not now, and the fact that his deputies were his two sons—well, that didn’t exactly inspire Cardwell to cancel his plans either.

  Things were going to go off as planned.

  12

  Shaye was sitting in his office while his sons took turns keeping an eye on the strangers. When the door opened and a man entered, he looked up, expecting one of the boys. Instead it was Harry Chalmers, who was a clerk for the mayor and, like him, also a lawyer. Chalmers was about the same age as Thomas.

  “Sheriff.”

  “Afternoon, Harry. What can I do for you?”

  “Mayor Timmerman sent me over to tell you—uh, ask you—to come over and see him.”

  “What’s botherin’ the mayor?”

  “I don’t know, sir,” Chalmers said. “He doesn’t tell me everything.”

  “That’s funny,” Shaye said, “I thought he did, Harry.”

  “Sheriff,” Chalmers said, “I don’t think the mayor tells anyone everything, not even Mrs. Timmerman.”

  “Uh-huh,” Shaye said. “Okay, tell the mayor I’ll be over shortly.”

  “Shortly?”

  “Oh, you thought I’d come right over with you?”

  “Well…”

  “Go back and tell the mayor…shortly.”

  “Okay,” Chalmers said, “but, uh, today, right?”

  “Yes, Harry,” Shaye said, “today.”

  Shaye didn’t make the mayor wait very long, just long enough for the man to realize he wouldn’t come running whenever he was called. About a half hour later he appeared in the mayor’s office.

  “Ah, Sheriff,” Harry Chalmers said from behind his desk, “I’ll tell the mayor you’re here.”

  “You do that, Harry.”

  Chalmers knocked on the mayor’s door and entered, then returned and held the door open.

  “You can go right in, Sheriff.”

  “Thank you, Harry.”

  Shaye slid past the clerk into the mayor’s office. Timmerman remained seated, making a statement that way. He was a large, barrel-chested man in his fifties who, even in just the year Shaye and his sons had been in town, had put on weight. Shaye knew they were the same age, but Timmerman looked considerably older.

  “Ah, Sheriff Shaye,” Timmerman said, “thanks so much for coming over.”

  “Harry seemed to think it was important, Mayor,” Shaye said. “Some town business I should know about?”

  “No, Sheriff,” Timmerman said, “it’s more of a, uh, personal matter. Have a seat, will you?”

  Shaye sat down opposite the man, wondering what kind of personal business they could possibly have.

  “Sheriff…Daniel…can I call you Daniel?”

  “I prefer Dan, if that’s all right with you, Mayor.”

  “All right, Dan,” Timmerman said.

  Shaye knew the man’s name was William, but he wasn’t about to call him “William,” or “Will” or “Bill,” for that matter. “Mayor” was good enough for him.

  “What’s on your mind, Mayor?”

  “Well, actually…Dan…I want to talk to you about one of your sons.”

  “One of my deputies?”

  “I know they’re your deputies, but I need to talk to you about one of them as your son.”

  “And which one would that be, Mayor?”

  “The young one,” Timmerman said, “James.”

  Shaye took a moment to study the mayor and scratch his head.

  “What about James?” he finally asked.

  “You know my daughter, Nancy.”

  “Not really,” Shaye said. “I mean, I know you have a daughter, but I don’t know her.”

  “Well, Nancy works at the bank,” Timmerman said, “and it has come to my attention that your son James has been, uh, well…hanging around my daughter.”

  “Hanging around?” Shaye asked. “What does that mean, mayor?”

  “Well, he’s always around the bank, and this morning he was in the café where my wife and daughter were having breakfast.”

  “Mayor,” Shaye said, “my son Thomas and I were both with James in the café this morning. We were all having breakfast there. Is that a problem?”

  “Well…no, not as such, but—”

  “What does that mean, ‘as such’?” Shaye demanded.

  “Sheriff,” Timmerman said, “I’m sure you appreciate my position in the community.”

  “As a lawyer? Or as mayor?”

  “Both, actually, as well as a father.”

  “We’re both fathers.”

  “But that’s where our similarities end,” Timmerman said. “I’m a politician, Sheriff.”

  “And I’m a lawman,” Shaye said. “Maybe that’s why I’m havin’ trouble understanding what you’re trying to say here. You’re talkin’ like a politician.” Shaye leaned forward. “Why don’t you just say what you want to say right out?”

  Timmerman sat back in his chair, as if trying to maintain his distance from Shaye.

  “All right, then,” he finally said. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for your son, James, to pursue a relationship with my daughter.”

  “What makes you think James has any intention of doin’ that?” Shaye asked.

  “Nancy has told me how he comes around the bank and
…looks at her.”

  “My son goes to the bank because he has a deposit there.”

  “So he’s not interested in Nancy?’

  “Not that I know of,” Shaye said. “She’s kind of a…skinny thing, ain’t she?”

  “Nancy’s very pretty,” Timmerman said. “Everyone in town knows that.”

  “Mayor, did Nancy tell you that James has spoken to her? Told her he’s interested in her?”

  “Well, no—”

  Shaye stood up. “I don’t think we have anything else to talk about,” he said. “My son is not interested in your daughter.”

  Shaye walked to the door, opened it and stopped there. He looked at Timmerman, who was still leaning back in his chair.

  “But just for the record,” Shaye said, “don’t ever try to tell me that my son is not good enough for your daughter.”

  “I wasn’t—”

  “That’s exactly what you were tryin’ to do,” Shaye said, “in your politician way.”

  Shaye walked out without another word. He closed the door gently, although he wanted to slam it, then walked out past Chalmers and closed the outer door gently as well. Moments later Chalmers heard the downstairs door slam.

  After James had some food and took care of some other business, he returned to spell Thomas.

  “Any change?” he asked, taking the seat.

  “Yeah,” Thomas said. “They had a conversation.”

  13

  Instead of going back to his office, Shaye walked around town for a while, waiting for his anger at the mayor to dissipate. He did not walk anywhere near the hotel where James and Thomas were keeping an eye on Cardwell and Davis. Instead, he walked in the other direction and eventually found himself in front of the Road House Saloon. He decided to go in and have a beer. The place was half full, and finding a spot at the bar was easy.

  “Sheriff Shaye,” Al Baker said. “You never come in here.”

  “I’m here now, Al,” Shaye said. “I’ll have a beer.”

  “Sure,” Baker said, “comin’ up.”

  He went to draw the beer, and the other men at the bar moved to give Shaye more room. They all knew the story of Shaye tracking down the Langer gang.

  Baker returned with a beer and put it down in front of Shaye. “I told your boy everythin’ I knew about Thomas, Sheriff,” the barkeep said.

  “I’m not here about that, Al,” Shaye said. “I’m just here to have a beer.”

  “Oh,” Baker said, “well, okay. On the house?”

  “I’ll pay.”

  “Like father, like son.”

  Shaye put a coin on the bar and said, “What?”

  “Thomas,” Baker said, picking up the coin. “He always insists on payin’ too.”

  “When did Thomas start comin’ in here, Al?”

  Baker thought a moment, then said, “Coupla months ago, I guess.”

  “He ever say why?”

  “No, not exactly.”

  “What do you mean, not exactly?”

  “I’ve seen a lot of men drink, Sheriff,” Baker said. He leaned his elbows on the bar. “I can usually tell why, just from lookin’ at them. I know when they’re drinkin’ to wash down the dust, I know when they’re drinkin’ because they need to, and I know when they’re drinkin’ out of anger.”

  “And Thomas?”

  Baker straightened up. “He was a pretty angry young man.”

  Shaye drank half his beer down and thought that over.

  “Sheriff?”

  “Yeah, Al?”

  “You’re pretty angry right now, aren’t you?”

  Baker moved down the line to serve someone else.

  Shaye could see that the bartender had obviously been telling the truth about his ability to read people, which meant he was right about Thomas as well. And if Thomas was angry, who else could he be possibly be angry at than his father?

  Shaye finished his beer and left the saloon.

  “Ain’t we at least goin’ to a saloon tonight?”

  “No.”

  “But we been sittin’ here all day, Ben,” Davis complained.

  “We went inside to eat in the dining room.”

  “Yeah, but other than that we been sittin’ here all day with them watchin’ us. I gotta go do somethin’.”

  Cardwell stood up. “I tell you what. I’m goin’ to the room. You can do whatever you want to with the rest of the night.”

  “That suits me,” Davis said, standing up quickly.

  Cardwell grabbed his arm and pointed a finger at him. “Just don’t get in no trouble, understand?”

  “I understand.”

  Cardwell released the man’s arm and stepped inside the hotel lobby. Immediately, he ducked to one side so he could look out the window. He watched as the deputy across the street—the young one—made up his mind whether to follow Davis or stay put.

  James watched the two men stand up, have a brief conversation, and then split up. One went into the hotel and the other started walking down the street. He took just a moment to decide to follow the one who was on the move, as the other one appeared to be staying put.

  Thomas was sitting at the desk in the office when Shaye walked in. “Well, where have you been?”

  “I had a meetin’ with the mayor.”

  “What about?”

  “Your brother.”

  “What did James do?”

  “Nothin’,” Shaye said. “Get out of my chair.”

  Thomas gave up his father’s chair, walked around the desk and sat down again. “What are you so mad about?” he asked.

  “Goddamn Timmerman thinks your brother ain’t good enough for his daughter.”

  “He said that?”

  “Not in so many words,” Shaye replied, “but that’s what he meant.”

  “Pa, James ain’t said two words to that gal except to make a deposit.”

  “I know that.”

  “So what makes the mayor think—”

  “Apparently the girl has told her father that James is…watchin’ her.”

  “Watchin’?” Thomas asked. “He peeks in the window at her sometimes, but it ain’t like he’s followin’ her or nothin’.”

  “I’ll have a talk with him,” Shaye said. “I don’t need this aggravation. Not now.”

  Thomas knew what his father meant. He suspected they were all feeling the effects of this unwanted anniversary.

  “Where is James?”

  “Watchin’ those two strangers,” Thomas said. “Speakin’ of which, I better get over there and spell him again.”

  “Once they turn in, forget about them, Thomas,” Shaye said. “They’re probably passin’ through, just like they said.”

  “Okay, Pa. You want me to talk to James—”

  “Don’t mention anythin’ to James,” Shaye said, cutting him off. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Sure, Pa.”

  Shaye stared at the door after Thomas closed it behind him. He had sensed no anger in his oldest son, but he knew it was there. He knew this time would come, when they’d mark one year since the deaths of Mary and Matthew, but he’d had no idea how it would affect them all. He wondered if there was anger inside James as well.

  14

  Cardwell watched out the front window, waiting for the other deputy to come. When the man showed up, he looked around, obviously trying to decide his next move. If he came into the hotel to check on him…but he didn’t. He hesitated a moment, then turned and walked back the way he had come.

  Cardwell left the room, went downstairs and out the back door.

  Of the six other strangers who had come to town, Cardwell wanted to find Simon Jacks. He knew that Jacks would seek out a back table at the smallest, quietest saloon and wait there for him to find him—which he did, at the third saloon he checked.

  “What took you so long?” Jacks asked as Cardwell sat down across from him. “You saw me ride in.”

  “We saw all of you ride in,” Cardwell said, “but Davis
managed to attract some attention to us.”

  “What kind of attention?”

  “The law kind.”

  “I told you a long time you should get rid of him.”

  “I will,” Cardwell said, “after this job is over.”

  “He still thinks he’s gettin’ a full share?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right,” Jacks said, “you might as well get a beer and tell me everything that’s happened.”

  Simon Jacks did not look anything like the hard case Ben Cardwell knew he was. His clothes were not flashy, and the gun he wore on his hip was well worn and unremarkable. You couldn’t tell the kind of man he was unless you looked into his eyes.

  Jacks was about ten years older than Cardwell, and had been working with him for five years. He was more experienced than Cardwell, but Simon Jacks had never had the desire to be anyone’s leader. He was perfectly happy when someone gave him a job to do, and then paid him when it was done.

  He listened intently while Cardwell explained everything that had happened since their arrival in town, after first getting himself a beer from the bar.

  “I hope the rest of the men are smarter than Davis,” Cardwell finished.

  “Don’t worry,” Jacks said. “They won’t attract any unwanted attention. Tell me about these deputies.”

  “They’re young,” Cardwell said, “and brothers, and their father is the sheriff.”

  “A sheriff with sons as deputies?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  Jacks sat forward. “What’s their name?”

  “Shaye,” Cardwell said. “Why?”

  “The father, he’s Dan Shaye?”

  “Yeah. He was supposed to be some kind of big lawman in Texas a while back.”

  “Jesus,” Jacks said, “this changes things, Ben.”

  “How?”

  “You don’t know who these men are?”

  “Local law—”

  “Do you know about the Langer gang?”

  Cardwell hesitated, then said, “Wait a minute. They’re the ones?”

  Jacks nodded. “They hunted down the Langer gang, killed them all except for Ethan. Him they crippled and then put in Huntsville.”

  “Okay, wait,” Cardwell said, “wait a minute. This can still work.”