Vengeance Creek

by Robert J. Randisi

  “I—uh, you’re just, uh, talkin’ kinda different.”

  “When you take on a different name, you also take on a different way of talkin’, and of livin’,” Cory said. “Out here, I’m not tryin’ to fool anybody anymore.”

  “It must be hard,” Thomas said, “always tryin’ to remember to be someone else.”

  “You get used to it, after a while,” Cory said, “but it’s hard in the beginning.”

  “You can go back, you know,” Thomas said. “After this is all over. My pa and us, we’re not gonna tell anybody. Berto won’t say nothin’ either.”

  “I know,” Cory said. “I know that. It’s just somethin’ I’m gonna have to decide.”

  Thomas suddenly turned and faced Cory. “Ralph,” he said, “are you…likin’ this?”

  Cory stopped what he was doing, hung his head for a moment, then looked at the younger man.

  “Yeah, Thomas,” he said, “yeah, I’m pretty sure I am…but it ain’t gonna last.”

  “Whataya mean?”

  “Before we’re done,” Cory said, “I’m gonna have to kill somebody. You know it, and I know it.”

  “And that was the part you were tryin’ to get away from.”

  Cory nodded.

  “Ralph—”

  “Forget it, Thomas,” Cory said. “Just forget it. I get the feelin’ that by the time this is done, we’re all gonna have some thinkin’ to do.”

  59

  As Thomas and Cory reached the base of their mountain, Cardwell and Jacks arrived in the town of Trinidad, not far north of the Colorado border.

  “You know,” Jacks said, just as an observation, “we could head south into New Mexico, get lost there for a while.”

  “I’m not givin’ up my bank, Simon,” Cardwell said. “I been wantin’ to hit this one for a long time, and now I’m gonna do it. After that, we could retire to New Mexico if we wanted to.”

  Cardwell had been dangling that carrot in front of Jacks for days now. But the addition of Bart Durant to the mix was making Jacks unhappy. He hated Durant, and knew the man returned the feeling. The two would just as soon shoot each other as look at each other. There was going to have to be a lot of money involved to change that.

  A helluva lot.

  “Hey, wasn’t Bat Masterson the law here for a while?” Jacks asked.

  “’Bout eight years ago, I think,” Cardwell said, “in 1882, but I don’t think he was even here a year.”

  “Wonder where he is now?”

  “Denver, I think,” Cardwell said, “but not wearin’ a badge.”

  They rode into the center of town, which was bustling with activity. Folks were rushing to stores and the bank before closing time, and women were rushing home to get supper ready for their men and their families. Children were happy to be out of school and were enjoying their temporary freedom.

  “Where’s Durant supposed to meet us?” Jacks asked.

  “The Columbian Hotel.”

  “Where’s that?”

  Cardwell reined his horse to a halt and said, “Right there,” with a jerk of his chin.

  The Columbian was on the corner of Main and Commercial, and had been built eleven years ago, in 1879.

  “Looks expensive.”

  “We can afford it.”

  “We?” Jacks asked. “You think I’m payin’ for Durant’s room in that hotel—”

  “Okay, okay,” Cardwell said, “it’ll come out of my end. You happy now?”

  “Yeah, I’m happy.”

  “Come on,” Cardwell said, “let’s get the horses cared for, and then we’ll find Durant and get this over with.”

  “One hour,” Rigoberto Colon said, holding some of the dirt in his hand.

  “We’re closin’ on them,” James said. “Damn. If Thomas and Ralph had stayed—”

  “We cannot worry about that now,” Colon said, mounting up again. “We must decide what to do if we catch up to them.”

  “There’s no question,” James said. “We’ll take ’em.”

  Colon didn’t reply.

  “You got another idea, Berto?”

  “I was just thinkin’, Jefe.”

  “About what?”

  “They have changed direction.”

  “Whataya mean?”

  “They are going more east now, not so much north.”

  “Which means?’

  “One of two things.”

  “I’m listening, Berto.”

  “They are probably going to Trinidad.”

  “What’s there?”

  “Supplies,” Colon said. “Also, if they go to Trinidad and then head north, they avoid going over the mountains.”

  “So they’re takin’ the long way around.”

  “Sí.”

  “Which works for us if we’re right about where they’re heading,” James said.

  “Sí,” Colon said again.

  “But you said two things.”

  Colon looked at James. “Perhaps they still stop in Trinidad and then go south.”

  “Which means Thomas and Ralph are goin’ the wrong way.”

  “Sí.”

  James thought a moment, then said, “Well, either way, they’re headin’ for Trinidad, right?”

  “It would appear so.”

  “And how long will it take us to get there?”

  “About an hour.”

  “Let’s go, then,” James said. “If they’re there when we get there, we can decide what to do.”

  “And if not,” Colon said, “if they have already left, we’ll know whether they are riding north or south.”

  “Yeah.”

  As they headed toward Trinidad, James was acutely aware that his brother was up on a mountain because of his idea. If the bank robbers headed south, Thomas was going to be completely out of this hunt, and it would fall to him to apprehend them and bring them back.

  Or kill them.

  Suddenly, he wished he had “Ralph Cory” with him rather than Berto Colon.

  60

  “What mountains are these?” Thomas asked as he passed Cory a hunk of beef jerky. They had no coffee, but had built a fire for the warmth. They were washing down their beef jerky dinner with swallows of water from their canteens.

  “The Sangre de Cristo Mountains,” Cory said. “When we get to the other side you’ll see the Spanish Peaks.”

  “Spanish Peaks?” Thomas asked. “We have to go over more mountains?”

  “No,” Cory said, “we’re gonna go north of the peaks to the old Taos Trail. In fact, we don’t even have to go to the top of these mountains.”

  “Why not?”

  “We can take the Sangre de Cristo Pass. It’s a branch of the old Sante Fe Trail.”

  “So goin’ over may not be as rough as you said.”

  “Maybe not,” Cory said. “The passes just have to be open. I haven’t been there in a lot of years.”

  Thomas took a bite from his beef jerky and sat back, wondering where James was at that moment and what he was doing. If he and Colon managed to catch up to Cardwell and Jacks, and something happened…well, he’d have a lot of explaining to do to his father about why they split up.

  Thomas looked over at Cory and found the man staring up the mountain.

  “Ralph?”

  “Hm? Oh, I was just thinkin’…I’ve been doin’ a lot of things lately I thought I was done with.”

  “You mean like ridin’ over a mountain?”

  “Yeah,” Cory said. “I thought I’d be spending the rest of my life behind the counter of some store. I’m too old to be doin’ this.”

  “You’re my pa’s age,” Thomas said. “That ain’t too old.”

  “No?” Cory asked. “Ask your pa next time you see him how old he feels, especially when he’s in the saddle.”

  “You seem to be doin’ okay.”

  “My ass is killin’ me, Thomas,” Cory said.

  “But you told me you were enjoyin’ it.”

  “Some of it,
yeah,” Cory said. “Readin’ sign is somethin’ I’ve always gotten satisfaction from doin’. It’s like this writing in the ground that only some people can read, you know?”

  Thomas nodded. He didn’t know, so there was no point in commenting.

  “And my ass ain’t hurtin’ as much as it was,” Cory went on. “But I’ll know more about myself once we get over this mountain.”

  “And then when we get where we’re goin’?” Thomas asked.

  Cory looked down at the gun on his hip, and then touched it.

  “Yeah,” he said, “that’s when we’ll really see.”

  Thomas sat forward and stared at Cory.

  “Ralph,” he said, “You gotta tell me now if you’re gonna be able to use your gun when the time comes. I’ve gotta know if you’re gonna be able to cover my back.”

  “Thomas,” Cory said, “I’ll cover your back better than anyone you know, but I don’t know what’s gonna happen after that.”

  Thomas knew he should be concerned with the man’s well-being, but he was more concerned with catching these men after tracking them for weeks. Maybe there’d be more guilt for him when this was all over, but he’d have to deal with it then. There was a lot to be settled when this hunt was all over, so how could it hurt to have one more?

  He sat back against his saddle and said, “Okay, then.”

  “Okay,” Cory said. “You want first watch, or should I take it?”

  “Who’s gonna come up on us from behind?” Thomas asked. “Or from this mountain?”

  “Thomas,” Cory said, “we’ve gotten into the habit of settin’ watches. That’s not a habit you want to break right now.”

  “You’re right,” Thomas said. “I’ll take the first watch. I’m not ready to sleep yet.”

  “That’s because you’re young,” Cory said. “I’m ready to sleep for days.”

  “Good,” Thomas said. “I’ll wake you in four hours.”

  61

  Cardwell and Jacks entered the lobby of the Columbian Hotel in Trinidad, Colorado. The lobby was busy, but there was no sign of Bart Durant.

  “Where is he?”

  “Relax,” Cardwell said, hefting his saddlebags up on his shoulder. “He’ll be here. Let’s get a room.”

  “Rooms,” Jacks said, tapping his own saddlebags. “I want my own this time.”

  “Fine.”

  They walked to the front desk, where the clerk gave them a dubious look. They were covered with trail dust from days in the saddle and sleeping on the ground.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Two rooms,” Cardwell said.

  “And baths?” the man asked.

  “What are you, a wise—” Jacks started, but Cardwell put his hand on his colleague’s arm.

  “Sure,” he said, “we’ll want baths. After all, I’m sure we look terrible.”

  “Well,” the clerk said, relenting, “I’m sure you’ve been traveling for quite some time.”

  He turned the register around so they could each sign in, then handed them keys to rooms that were right across from each other.

  “I’ll have your baths drawn,” he added.

  “Thank you.”

  Cardwell led Jacks to the stairs.

  “Why the hell did you let him talk down to us like that?” Jacks demanded.

  “We don’t want to attract any attention, Simon,” Cardwell said. “And baths are a good idea. We stink.”

  Jacks lifted his sleeve and sniffed himself, then made a face. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  They went up the stairs and stopped outside their rooms.

  “You go for your bath first,” Cardwell said, “and I’ll find Durant.”

  “Why don’t I go with you?”

  “Because you guys might slap leather as soon as you see each other,” Cardwell said. “I need to talk to him first.”

  “You got a point there.”

  They unlocked their doors, but before entering the room, Cardwell looked up and down the hallway and said, “Hey.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t take your saddlebags down to your bath.”

  “I ain’t leavin’ them—”

  “Hey,” Cardwell said, “how’s it gonna look if you take saddlebags with you to take a bath?”

  “Like I want to keep them near me.”

  “Yeah,” Cardwell said, “like you got somethin’ in them that’s worth a lot of money.”

  “Like I got a lot of money in them.”

  “Exactly,” Cardwell said. “You might as well tell everyone what you’re carrying.”

  “So what do you expect me to do?”

  “Leave it in your room.”

  “Wha—”

  Cardwell closed the door to his room, stepped across the hall and pushed Jacks into his room, closing the door behind them.

  “Nobody knows what we have,” he said urgently. “We can both leave our bags in our rooms while we take baths and talk to Durant.”

  “You’re gonna leave yours in your room?” Jacks asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “I tell you what,” Cardwell said, slinging his bags off his shoulder, “I’ll leave them in your room.”

  “What?”

  “Sure, why not?” Cardwell asked. “You hold onto all the money.”

  Jacks narrowed his eyes. “Why would you trust me?”

  “Because there’s a lot more money waitin’ for us,” Cardwell said, “and I don’t think you want to miss out on it…do you?”

  “No, I don’t, but…”

  “But what?”

  Cardwell held his saddlebags out to Jacks, who finally reached out and took them.

  “Stick them under the bed,” he suggested. “That’s probably as safe a place as any. We’ll only be overnight, nobody’s gonna steal anythin’ from us.”

  Cardwell opened the door. “I’m just gonna wash my face and hands in my room, and then go look for Durant.”

  “I’ll take my bath,” Jacks said, “and then come right back up here.”

  “Good,” Cardwell said, “then I’ll meet you back here.”

  After Cardwell left, Simon Jacks put both sets of saddlebags on the bed and opened Cardwell’s. Sure enough, it was stuffed with money. He’d thought maybe Cardwell had taken the money out and replaced it with something else, but apparently the man actually was trusting him with all the money.

  That was extremely out of character for him.

  62

  Cardwell waited until Jacks had gone down to take his bath before leaving his room and going downstairs. He went across the lobby and into the saloon adjoining it. There he found Bart Durant, whom he’d telegraphed from Bene Mesa, sitting at a table with a beer. Cardwell walked over and sat across from him.

  “Where is he?” Durant asked.

  “Takin’ a bath.”

  “Does he have his gun with him?”

  “Of course.”

  “And the money?”

  “In his room.”

  “Your share and his?”

  “Yes.”

  Durant sat back in his chair. He was a morose-looking man in his forties who had been making his way with his gun for more than half his life. He and Simon Jacks had hated each other for a long time. Ben Cardwell didn’t know why, and he didn’t care. He was simply prepared to use that hatred to his advantage.

  “I get his share,” Durant said.

  “That’s right.”

  “And I’m in on the big job?”

  “That’s right,” Cardwell said. “All you have to do is meet me there…after.”

  “And the money?”

  “It’ll be in his room,” Cardwell said, “under the bed.”

  Durant studied Cardwell for a few moments, then said, “Okay.”

  “Just give me time to retrieve my share, get on my horse, and ride out,” Cardwell said, “then he’s all yours.”

  Cardwell stood up.

  “You really think t
he money’s gonna be there?” Durant asked.

  “Mine, or yours?”

  “Oh,” Durant said, “mine better be there.”

  “It’ll be there, Durant,” Cardwell said. “You just better take care of Jacks.”

  “I’ve been waitin’ to take care of Simon Jacks for years,” Durant said. “I ain’t about to miss my chance.”

  “Then I’ll see you soon,” Cardwell said.

  Durant nodded and lifted his beer mug. Cardwell turned and left the saloon. He went upstairs, forced the door on Jacks’s room, retrieved his saddlebags from beneath the bed, went outside, mounted his horse, and rode out of town.

  He headed north.

  James and Colon rode into Trinidad from one end as Ben Cardwell was riding out the other.

  “Where do we look?” James said aloud.

  “The livery,” Colon said. “We find the horse with the track, and then we find the man who belongs to the horse.”

  “Simple as that, huh?”

  Colon looked at James and grinned. “Sí, Jefe, simple as that.”

  They were riding past the Columbian Hotel when all hell seemed to break loose….

  Durant finished his beer, then slid his chair back, stood and walked into the lobby. He walked to the front desk and got the clerk’s attention.

  “Where are the bathtubs?”

  “Down that hall, sir,” the clerk said. “I can have one drawn for you. Are you a guest of the hotel?”

  “No,” Durant said, “I just want to surprise an old friend.”

  “Sir, I can’t let you—” the clerk started, but then he saw the money Durant was holding out to him. “Yes, of course, sir. I hope he’s very surprised.”

  “Don’t worry,” Durant said, “he will be.”

  Simon Jacks hated taking baths, so he took quick ones. He left his gun belt hanging on a chair next to the tub when he got in, so the gun was within easy reach. He was still feeling uneasy about Cardwell giving him all the money to hold. It just didn’t sit right—and yet leaving the saddlebags in the room made sense to him. A man holding his saddlebags too close at all times would certainly look like someone who had something valuable. That was all some men would need to target him, and Cardwell was right, they didn’t need the attention.

  But he bathed extra fast so he could get back to his room, where all the money from the Vengeance Creek job was underneath the bed. He was pulling on his trousers when he heard a floorboard creak outside the door. He grabbed his gun belt, freed the gun just as the door slammed open.