Return to Vengeance Creek

by Robert J. Randisi

  “They’re very capable, Mayor,” Shaye said. “Besides, I promised you I’d be here in case Cole Doucette showed up, didn’t I?”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” the mayor said. “I’m sorry about Harvey, and I’m sure your boys will drag Harry Fleming back here to stand trial. But I got this today, first thing in the morning.” He picked up a telegram from his desk.

  “What’s that?”

  “I put the word out on Cole Doucette,” the mayor said. “This telegram says he’s headed in this direction.”

  “But does it say he’s actually comin’ here?”

  “It doesn’t say that,” Snow replied, “but why else would he be coming this way?”

  “I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Shaye said. “How far away does it put him?”

  “In New Mexico,” the mayor said. “If he keeps coming, he could be here in four or five days.”

  “Well then,” Shaye said, standing, “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”

  “I think we have to do more than that,” Snow said.

  “Whataya mean?”

  “It also says he’s got some men with him.”

  “How many?”

  “I don’t know exactly, but since you sent both of your deputies out to chase down the Fleming brothers, maybe you better hire some new ones.”

  “Do you think I can just pin some tin on a few shirts and have deputies?” Shaye asked. “Men who’ll be able to face up to Cole Doucette in four days?”

  “I don’t know, Sheriff,” Mayor Snow said. “I guess that would depend on how fast and how well you can train them. Or maybe what you need to do is find men who can already handle a gun.”

  “I’m not about to pin some badge on a couple of hired guns, Mr. Mayor,” Shaye said. “If Cole Doucette really does arrive here, you’re just gonna have to leave it to me how we handle him. After all, that’s what you asked me to do.”

  Shaye turned and headed for the door.

  “Dan,” Mayor Snow said, “Doucette’s not about to hesitate to go through you to get to me.”

  “Well,” Shaye said, “that’s just somethin’ else we’ll have to see about, ain’t it?”

  ELEVEN

  In their haste to get away from Vengeance Creek, the Flemings did nothing to try to hide their tracks. This made it fairly easy for Thomas to trail them—at least, in the beginning.

  Dan Shaye was the best tracker Thomas had ever known, and his father had taught him everything he could. So when the tracks disappeared into a stream, he knew he didn’t just have two options—upstream or downstream—but that he had both options. He was going to have to pick one, and if he chose wrong, then he’d have to retrace his steps and go the other way. If that was the case, the Flemings would be able to put more miles between themselves and him.

  He sat his horse and took a moment to make up his mind. He knew the nearest town was called Forsythe, to the north. The question was, did the Flemings know that? And since they were on the run, would they ride to the nearest town or away from it? He decided that if he was on the run, he’d go south—downstream—away from Forsythe, which had its own sheriff. By now his Pa might have sent out some telegrams, warning nearby towns about the Flemings.

  He finally decided to stop putting so much thought into it, and simply turned his horse south and began riding.

  Harry Fleming grumbled almost the entire ride away from Vengeance Creek.

  “I don’t understand why we’re not going to Forsythe, Red,” he complained.

  “That’s why I’m in charge and you’re not, Harry,” Red said. “The posse that’s after us is gonna expect us to go to Forsythe. It’s the closest town to Vengeance Creek. They’d expect us to go there to get outfitted.”

  “So if we ain’t goin’ there, where are we gonna get outfitted then?”

  “We’re headed for an old line shack I know about,” Red said. “It’s only about five more miles. I got supplies waitin’ for us there. Once we pick them up, we’ll be on our way outta Arizona.”

  “Wait,” Harry said, reining in his horse abruptly. “We ain’t goin’ back to Vengeance Creek to burn it down?”

  Red rode a few feet farther before stopping and turning his horse.

  “Why the hell would we do that?”

  “Well . . . they put me in jail!” Harry complained. “They was gonna hang me, Red! You gonna let ’em get away with that?”

  “You killed a man, Harry,” Red said, “and you got caught. What did you think they was gonna do with ya? Pin a medal on your chest?”

  “Look,” the younger Fleming brother said, “if there’s a posse after us, then the town ain’t got no protection. We can just go back—”

  “Harry,” Red said, holding his hand up, “just stop talkin’, will ya? The more you talk, the dumber you sound. Once we get outta Arizona, ain’t no posse gonna be followin’ us.”

  “Yeah, but . . . I’m gonna be wanted.”

  “We’re already wanted in two other states, brother,” Red said. “That’s why we’re goin’ to Ol’ Mexico.”

  “Mexico?”

  “That’s right,” Red said. “Now, just follow me and shut up.”

  He turned his horse and began riding. Harry sat there for a few seconds, then spurred his horse on and shouted, “But all they eat in Mexico is beans. I hate beans!”

  James knew he’d never be the tracker his father was. Hell, he’d never be as good as Thomas, either. But this fella Candy didn’t seem to be doing anything to cover his tracks. Either he was stupid, in too much of a rush, or he wanted to be followed. If he was stupid or in a rush, James had to keep following. If he wanted to be followed, it meant he was leading James away from the Fleming brothers.

  He decided he had only one option, and that was to keep following. If he could catch up to the man, he might be able to convince him to tell him where the Flemings were headed. Thomas was on their trail alone, and for all they knew the two Flemings were on their way to meet the rest of the men. James knew how good his older brother was with a gun, but against a gang he’d need help.

  James pushed his mount whenever he could, especially when the trail was very clear, but there were times he had to walk the horse, so he could study the ground. Whether Candy was trying or not, sometimes the terrain simply made it hard to read any sign. Then, when he found it again, he could once again push on. But there was a lot of stop and go involved. Eventually it started to get dark, and he knew he had to make camp.

  Candy rode hell-bent-for-leather out of Vengeance Creek. His instructions were clear. Leave a trail that was easy to read, ride for about fifty miles, and then double back and meet Red and Harry Fleming in Mexico. But fifty miles would fill a day, and he knew he was going to have to camp for the night. What he wanted to do, though, was cover the mileage, double back, and then camp. That way no lawman dumb enough to keep moving at night would stumble over him in the dark.

  TWELVE

  Shaye was in the Renegade Saloon that night, nursing a beer, thinking about Harvey’s death and sending his boys out after the killers. It was the first time James had gone out on his own. Thomas had been out before, but only two or three times, and certainly never to track two killers. He probably should have gone with James, but that would have left the town with no lawman.

  He had to balance his responsibilities as a father with his duties as a peace officer. And there he had to take into consideration the fact that his sons were now grown men. He couldn’t be with them all the time, every step of the way; not anymore. Thomas had already proven himself, but this would be a good test for James, to determine if he should really be wearing a badge.

  He was finishing his beer when the batwings opened and the mayor stepped in, followed by two men wearing dour expressions and low-slung guns. Not a good combination.

  The mayor said something to the men, they turned, and walked to an empty table. They sat and ordered from one of the saloon girls while Mayor Snow walked over to join Shaye
at the bar.

  “Sheriff, can I buy you another?” the mayor asked.

  “Sure, why not.”

  Snow signaled the bartender for two beers.

  “What’s on your mind, Mayor?” Shaye asked, accepting the icy mug. “Who are your friends?”

  Mayor Snow took a swig from his own mug and said, “Those are your two new deputies. Their names are Hawko and Tayback.”

  Shaye put his beer back down on the bar. He didn’t know the men, but that didn’t matter.

  “What are you talkin’ about?” Shaye asked. “I told you this mornin’—”

  “Now, now, just hear me out,” Snow said, putting his beer down and holding his hands out in a placating gesture. “They’re good with their guns, and they’ll take your orders.”

  “You think so?” Shaye asked.

  The mayor looked at the two men, then back at Shaye. “You saying you don’t think they will?”

  “I’m sayin’ I’ve seen their type before,” Shaye said. “They don’t put their lives on the line for a deputy sheriff’s pay.”

  Snow grabbed his beer, stared into it and took a sip.

  “Oh, wait,” Shaye said. “How much did you promise to pay them?”

  “That doesn’t matter.”

  “It does to me,” Shaye said. “You think two money-guns are gonna take orders from a lawman who’s bein’ paid less than they are?”

  Snow looked over at the two men again.

  “So what do I do?” he asked. “I already told them they have the job.”

  Shaye once more picked up his beer.

  “That was your mistake,” he said. “Pay them off and send them on their way.” He sipped from his mug. “Where did you find them, anyway?”

  “They were just riding through town,” he said. “Stopped for a while. When I saw them they were sitting in front of the hotel. I know the look too, Dan. I knew they were for hire.”

  “Well, not for this job,” Shaye said. “I told you, I’m not puttin’ a badge on a hired gun.”

  “I get it,” the mayor said. “Pay them off, huh?”

  “You have to.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d consider—”

  “Nope,” Shaye said. “This is your mess to clean up. I already agreed to help you with Cole Doucette.”

  “Yeah, you did,” the mayor confirmed. “Okay.” He put his beer down and walked away.

  Shaye watched the politician make his way over to the two gunmen, and decided to stay in the saloon during the exchange.

  “We what?” Sam Hawko asked. He was the slightly older of the two.

  “You don’t have the job,” the mayor said.

  “But you said we did,” Paul Tayback said. He was the larger of the men.

  “I know I did,” Snow said, “but I didn’t check with the sheriff before I spoke.”

  “That’s too bad,” Hawko said. “We’re still gonna need to get paid.”

  “Of course,” Snow said. “For a . . . week?”

  “Sure,” Hawko said, “a week.”

  “It’ll have to be fifty cents on the dollar, though,” Snow added.

  “What’s that mean?” Tayback asked.

  “Half,” Hawko said. “He wants to pay us half.”

  “Oh, no,” Tayback said.

  “My partner’s right,” Hawko said. “We can’t take half. He’s a big boy. He eats a lot.”

  “Now look,” Snow said, “I spoke out of turn and I can’t, in good conscience, pay you in full for work you’re not going to do.”

  “No fault of ours,” Hawko said, shaking his head.

  “You’re right,” Snow said, “the fault is mine, but I’m trying to be reasonable here.”

  “Reasonable would be to pay what you owe us,” Hawko said.

  “But I don’t owe you anything because you didn’t do a job,” Snow said.

  Hawko smiled at him. “Again, that’s not our fault, Mayor. I think you better pay up.”

  Snow hesitated.

  Tayback said, “Make up your mind, Mayor. You’re a little low on law right now, so it ain’t like you got other options.”

  At the mention of another option, Mayor Snow looked over at the bar to see if Shaye was still there.

  THIRTEEN

  Shaye saw the mayor look in his direction and set down his beer. He assumed the hired guns were giving the mayor a hard time as he tried to cancel their deal. As he shook his head and walked over to the three men, he wondered why Snow didn’t just pay them.

  “Problem here, Mr. Mayor?” he asked.

  It wasn’t the mayor who answered the question, but one of the other men.

  “No problems, Sheriff,” Sam Hawko said. “The mayor is just tryin’ to go back on a deal we made.”

  “Look, fellas,” Shaye said. “I’m the one who told the mayor it was no deal.”

  “That’s okay, Sheriff,” Hawko said. “If you don’t want us, it’s no problem. We just need to get paid.”

  “I told them I’d pay them half what I offered,” the mayor said.

  “That doesn’t work for you men?” Shaye asked.

  “Not at all,” Hawko said. “We want what we’re owed.”

  “Well,” Shaye said, “seems to me you didn’t do any work, so you’re not owed anything.”

  “That’s what the mayor’s been tryin’ to tell us,” Hawko said. “And what we’re sayin’ is, that ain’t our fault.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mayor Snow said, “but I just can’t pay the full amount.”

  “Well,” Hawko said, “we ain’t leavin’ without our money.”

  “Now you’re just bein’ stubborn,” Shaye said. “See, I think the mayor’s offer of half was fair, but now I think you should just leave town.”

  Hawko studied Shaye for a few moments, then said, “If I’m right, Sheriff, you don’t have any deputies to back your play.”

  “If I’m right . . . which one are you?”

  “Hawko.”

  “If I’m right, Hawko,” Shaye said, “I don’t need any back-up.”

  The mayor took a few cautious steps back.

  Hawko studied Shaye again, then frowned.

  “Well,” he said, “surely you’ll let us stand first.”

  “Nope,” Shaye said. “You want to skin that hogleg, you’re gonna have to do it from where you are.”

  Tayback looked at Hawko. No matter how fast a man was, he was at a disadvantage if seated, especially if seated at a table.

  “Whataya say, boy?”

  Hawko frowned.

  “What’re our options?” he asked.

  “Draw or take your guns out slow, with two fingers, and put them on the table. Your choice.”

  “You’d make us walk outta here with no guns?”

  “You can have them back,” Shaye said, “unloaded.”

  “What if we just go out, load ’em up again, and come back in?”

  “I think once you boys are outside the saloon,” Shaye said, “you’ll talk it over and come up with a better idea than that.”

  Hawko looked at Snow, then at Shaye again.

  “The mayor didn’t tell us your name,” he said.

  “It’s Sheriff Dan Shaye,” Mayor Snow said, before Shaye could speak up.

  Hawko looked at Shaye, nodded, then looked at Tayback.

  “Take out your gun, Paul.”

  “Yeah!” Tayback said like that was the only move that made sense.

  They removed their guns and gingerly laid them on the table.

  “Now you can stand up and back away,” Shaye said.

  Both men did so.

  “Mayor, unload both guns.”

  Mayor Snow stepped forward and, with shaky hands, ejected the shells from each weapon onto the table, then put the guns back down.

  “Okay, boys,” Shaye said, “take back your guns and walk on out.”

  “Sure, Sheriff,” Hawko said. “We never meant you no disrespect.”

  “I know you didn’t.”

  Hawk
o and Tayback picked up their empty guns and holstered them, then looked longingly at the bullets still rolling around on the table.

  They started to walk to the doors, but Hawko turned to say one more thing.

  “You know,” he said to Shaye, “your mayor oughtta have more confidence in his lawman.”

  “I agree with you.”

  “Especially when it’s Dan Shaye,” Tayback said.

  “Let’s go, Paul,” Hawko said.

  Tayback actually touched the brim of his hat and said, “Sheriff,” conveying respect.

  The saloon was so quiet that after the two men left, the sound of retreating horses could be easily heard. The two gunnies were riding out fast.

  Shaye scooped up the bullets in his left hand, dropped them into the pocket of his vest, then looked at the mayor.

  “Dan,” Snow said, “I was just trying to help.”

  FOURTEEN

  Thomas was frustrated.

  He had ridden downstream two days ago, picked up the Fleming brothers’ trail, and had been following it ever since.

  Until two hours ago.

  The terrain had become rock hard, and while he knew his father would be able to follow the trail anyway, Thomas had lost it. All he could do was continue to ride in the same direction and hope he could pick up the trail again.

  He was riding in a desolate section of Arizona, south of Tucson, and just north of Mexico. They must have been heading for the border. If Thomas crossed into Mexico, he’d have to remove his badge and go on as a civilian. He didn’t know if his father would approve of that, but he wouldn’t find out about it until he got back to Vengeance Creek.

  An hour later, he was riding along the Santa Cruz River and came within sight of a town called Tubac. He had never been to Tubac, but he knew there was a history of Apache attacks there. In the early ’sixties, during the war, there was a siege between the male population, Confederate militia, and Apaches.

  He also knew that after the siege, the town was deserted as its residents had left and gone to Tucson. There might still be some people living there, but it would be a very few.

  He broke away from the river and headed for the town.

  Red and Harry Fleming crossed the border into Mexico and headed for Nogales.