Return to Vengeance Creek

by Robert J. Randisi

  “Well, I’m James Shaye, deputy from Vengeance Creek. I’m trackin’ two men, the Fleming Brothers, and my brother, Thomas. He’s also a deputy.”

  “Have a seat, son,” Dewey said.

  “I don’t have time—”

  “You’ll have time for this,” Dewey said. “I guarantee it.”

  James frowned, but sat down.

  “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you,” Dewey said. “We just got the word from Nogales, across the border.”

  “What word is that, Sheriff?”

  “Your brother,” Dewey said, “he’s dead.”

  “What?” James felt cold inside.

  “Seems the Flemings shot him.”

  “How?” James asked. “In the back?”

  “Face-to-face,” Dewey said. “In the street. At least, that’s what people are sayin’.”

  James jumped to his feet.

  “That can’t be,” he said. “My brother’s alive.”

  “Why would you say that?” Dewey asked.

  “Because those two wouldn’t have been able to take Thomas in a fair fight,” James said. “He’s too fast.”

  “Well,” Dewey said, “Red Fleming is supposed to be pretty quick with a gun, himself . . . and there were two of them.”

  “I don’t care,” James said. “I won’t believe my brother’s dead until I see the body.”

  “You’d have to go across the border for that. You’d have no jurisdiction, and you might end up dead, too.”

  “How’s that?”

  “The Flemings are still there.”

  “So they’re supposed to have killed my brother,” James said, “and they didn’t leave town?”

  “Like I said,” Dewey answered, “you and your brother have no jurisdiction over there, so it’s not like they killed a lawman.”

  “As far as I’m concerned,” James said, “a lawman’s a lawman, no matter where he goes.”

  “Okay,” Dewey said. “Okay, sit back down a minute.”

  James sat.

  “You wanna ride right over there and find out what happened?”

  “I do.”

  “Well, be smart about it,” Dewey said.

  “How do I do that?”

  “First, take off your badge and put it in your pocket,” Dewey said. “Second, don’t let anybody in this town know you’re the other deputy’s brother. Third, keep your head down. There are people in this town who will send the Flemings a message if they learn you’re a deputy, and then the Flemings will know you’re comin’. Fourth, there’s a sheriff over there named Montoya. He can’t be trusted.”

  “He works for the Flemings?”

  “He works for himself,” Dewey said, “as I do. But I wouldn’t trust him to do the right thing.”

  “And you?”

  “Me? I do the right thing about half the time. I have a gambling habit.”

  “I see. You’re very honest.”

  Dewey smiled. “Like I said, half the time.”

  “So what do you suggest I do?” James asked.

  “Nothin’ abrupt,” Dewey said. “Somebody saw you ride into town. You’re a stranger. What somebody would normally do is have a drink, maybe a steak, and spend the night. Tomorrow mornin’ you can head over the border at a real leisurely pace.”

  “Tomorrow? But—”

  “If you’re brother is really dead, he’ll still be dead tomorrow. If he’s still alive, what’s the hurry?”

  “If he’s still alive,” James said, “I want him to stay that way.”

  “You can both stay that way as long as you don’t attract the wrong attention. Look, just do it my way for today. Tomorrow you can go across the border and find out.”

  “Can you find anythin’ out for sure before then?” James asked.

  “I can try.”

  “Is there a telegraph office in town?”

  “Yes, but not across the border.”

  “I was just thinkin’ of sendin’ one back to Vengeance Creek.”

  “Well,” Dewey said, “you don’t wanna tell your father anythin’ until you know for sure.”

  “You’re right.” James stood up. “Do you have suggestions for a place to drink, eat and stay?”

  “I have a few.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  James checked into a hotel, then went across the street to the saloon for a beer. According to Sheriff Dewey, these were places Thomas went while he was in town.

  “What else did he do?” James had asked.

  “He talked to a girl named Belle at the saloon across from the hotel,” Dewey said. “And also a man named Adam Grey, a gambler in town.”

  “What else is Grey besides a gambler?” James asked.

  “I’m sure he sent word across the border to the Flemings that your brother was comin’.”

  “Why are you tellin’ me this?”

  “Because I want you to stay away from these two people,” Dewey said.

  But James wanted to at least have a look at this Belle, and maybe even Grey.

  The saloon was busy, so he walked to the bar without attracting attention. His badge was in his pocket, as Dewey had suggested.

  He ordered a beer, then looked around while he drank it. There was some gambling going on—poker and faro—but nobody who matched the description Dewey had given him for Adam Grey. However, he immediately spotted Belle. Dewey had described her perfectly. For one thing, she was older than the other girls.

  He watched as she moved around the saloon, talking to customers, serving drinks. He wanted to ask her about Thomas, but he decided Sheriff Dewey was right about not calling attention to himself.

  He finished his beer, left the saloon and went to the restaurant Dewey had suggested. When he walked in, he saw Dewey sitting there at a table, eating alone. The lawman waved him over.

  “Have a seat,” he invited.

  “Is that what you call keepin’ my head down?” James asked. “Eating with the local law?”

  Dewey smiled. “I eat with a lot of people. Siddown. You’re attractin’ more attention just standin’ there.”

  James sat.

  “Bring my guest a steak,” Dewey told the waiter when he came over. “Rare okay?” he asked James.

  “Fine.”

  “See that table in the center of the room?”

  “The one with two men?”

  “Yeah,” Dewey said, “the older one is Adam Grey, the gambler.”

  “And the younger one?”

  “Just a business associate of his. Not important.”

  “Oh. Why are you pointin’ him out? So I can stay away from him?”

  “No,” Dewey said, “because from what I’ve learned, he’ll be the only person who can tell you if your brother is really dead.”

  James looked over at Grey. “I see.”

  “If you wanna ask him,” Dewey said. “I mean, if you don’t wanna wait to go across the border tomorrow and find out for yourself.”

  “So I walk over there and ask just ask him, out of the blue?”

  “You could do that,” Dewey said. “Or we could eat first. He hasn’t even ordered yet.”

  Hunger pangs gnawed at James’s stomach, so he said, “I think maybe we can eat first.”

  “Good choice,” Dewey said.

  James and Dewey finished their steaks well before Adam Grey and his companion finished theirs.

  “Are you going to come over with me?” James asked.

  “No, I can’t do that,” Dewey said. “I still have to live in this town.”

  “Gotcha.” James pushed his seat back. “So all that stuff about not callin’ attention to myself?”

  “I also heard that the Flemings rode out of Nogales today,” Dewey said. “So Grey won’t be able to send word that you’re comin’.”

  “Understood.” He started to stand up.

  “By the way,” Dewey said.

  “Yeah?”

  “You can put your badge back on if you like, just to make your point.�
�

  THIRTY-FOUR

  When James walked over to Adam Grey’s table, he was wearing his badge. Not that it meant much, since he had no jurisdiction in Nogales on either side of the border. But it made him feel better.

  As he stood in front of the man, Grey’s companion looked up at him.

  “Adam Grey?” he asked.

  “That’s right.” Grey squinted at James’s badge. “You’re a little out of you bailiwick, aren’t you, Deputy?”

  “I think you met my brother,” James said. “Also a deputy. Thomas Shaye?”

  Grey frowned. “I think I might have—”

  “Mind if I sit?” James pulled out a chair and dropped into it.

  “Sam, why don’t you take a walk,” Grey said to the other man.

  “I haven’t finished—”

  “Sam!”

  “Yeah, okay.” Sam stood up. “Don’t let the waiter take my plate.”

  “I’ll keep an eagle eye on it,” James promised, even though Sam wasn’t talking to him.

  “What’s on your mind, Deputy?”

  “I understand you might have some information for me.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “About my brother.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  James leaned forward. “Is he dead or alive?”

  “Ah . . .”

  “I’m told you’re the only one on this side of the border who really knows.”

  “I think you’ve been misinformed,” Grey said. “I don’t know anything about what goes on over there.”

  “Then I’ll tell you,” James said. “Supposedly, the Fleming brothers shot and killed him. If I get over there and find out that’s true, I’m going to hunt them down, and then I’ll be comin’ back here for you.”

  “For me?” Grey asked. “That hardly sounds fair. What did I do?”

  “I know you have a connection to them,” James said. “Apparently you warned them that Thomas was comin’. And you’d warn them about me, except that they’ve left Nogales.”

  “Have they?” Grey asked.

  “That’s the word.”

  “You seem to have more information than a young man who just arrived in town should have,” Grey said. “Possibly from your supper companion?”

  “Sheriff Dewey was actually warnin’ me to keep away from you,” he lied, covering for the local lawman.

  “That was good advice.”

  “I’m warnin’ you, Grey, no matter what the sheriff says,” James said, “if I find out you had information and you withheld it from me, I’ll be back for you.”

  “That badge doesn’t get you any privileges around here, son,” Grey said. “If I was you, that’s the thing I’d remember.”

  James was in a quandary. When he stood up, should he walk back to Dewey’s table or just walk out? Make it look like he’s mad at both Dewey and Grey, further covering for Dewey?

  “We’re done here,” Grey said. “I’d like to finish my supper.”

  James stood.

  “If you see Sam out there, send him in, will you?” Grey asked.

  James decided his best course of action would be to just walk out of the restaurant. Dewey had helped him, and he didn’t want to damage the man’s credibility in his town any more than he had to.

  The waiter came over as James started to leave, obviously mistook him for Sam, and asked, “Is the gentleman finished?”

  “Yes,” James said, “you can remove the plate.”

  James had no choice after that but to go back to his hotel. He didn’t want to be seen with Sheriff Dewey anymore, and didn’t want to run into Adam Grey again.

  He was sitting in his room, stewing about Thomas. If his brother was, indeed, dead he’d have to send his father a telegram to that fact. If he did, however, he knew his father would message him back to return to Vengeance Creek immediately. James was not about to do that, not if Thomas was dead at the hands of the Fleming brothers and they were still on the loose. So he wouldn’t send his father such a telegram. Hopefully, he’d never have to. To that end, he decided Thomas was not dead. He couldn’t be. He’d find out tomorrow when he crossed the border to Nogales on the Mexican side that his brother was still alive and well.

  He considered going to sleep so he could get a very early start in the morning when there was a knock on the door. Figuring the only person it could be was the sheriff, he nevertheless took his gun to the door with him. After all, Adam Grey could be sending somebody for him, after his threat—or promise—to the man.

  “Who is it?”

  “My name is Belle, Deputy,” a woman’s voice said. “Please, I must speak to you. Sheriff Dewey told me where you were stayin’.”

  James opened the door carefully, just a crack, and peered out. He saw the woman from the saloon he’d assumed was Belle.

  “What do you want?” he asked, opening the door.

  “Oh, please,” she said, “let me in before somebody sees me.”

  “Worried about your reputation?” he asked.

  “Worried about stayin’ alive if Adam Grey finds out I came here to talk to you.”

  James made a quick decision.

  “All right, come in.” He stepped back, allowed her to enter, and closed the door. “Now, why are you here?”

  “You’re that deputy’s brother, right? His name was Thomas?” she asked, anxiously.

  “That’s right. I’m James.”

  “Are you goin’ across the border tomorrow?”

  “That’s right, I am. Did your boss send you to talk me out of it?”

  “I told you,” she said. “He doesn’t know I’m here. And I don’t want him to find out.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “To tell you,” she said, “to let you know that your brother is alive. Thomas is alive!”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  “Are you sure?” James asked.

  “Positive.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I heard Adam talkin’ about it,” she said. “A man came here from across the border, told him there was a shooting, that your brother was involved, that he was shot, but he wasn’t dead.”

  “And the Flemings?”

  “Oh, they shot him,” she said. “That’s all I heard.”

  James sat down on the bed, put the gun in his holster hanging on the bedpost.

  “When was that?” he asked.

  “Just yesterday.”

  “So Thomas was still alive yesterday.”

  “Yes.”

  “And today the sheriff heard that the Flemings rode out,” James said.

  “I wouldn’t believe everythin’ the sheriff tells you.”

  “Does he work for Grey?”

  “No,” she said, “but he owes him money. That might be the same thing.”

  “As far as I can see, the sheriff has only done right by me, so far.”

  “Well,” she said, “if I was you, I wouldn’t believe anybody.”

  “Does that include you?”

  “It does,” she said, “but I’m only tellin’ you what I heard. You’ll find out for yourself tomorrow who’s tellin’ the truth.”

  She was right. Once he got to Nogales on the Mexico side, he’d know for sure who the liars were.

  “Miss Belle—”

  “Just Belle,” she said.

  “Belle, thanks for comin’ here tonight,” James said. “One way or the other, I’ll be back through here, hopefully with my brother.”

  “I hope so,” she said. “This town would be much better off without Adam Grey. Maybe one of you will kill him.”

  “Or arrest him,” James said.

  “Whichever,” she said. “I should get back to my room.”

  He walked her to the door.

  “Are you Grey’s woman?” he asked.

  “I owe him a lot of money, too,” she explained, “so I’m his woman when he wants me to be.”

  “I understand.”

  He opened the door f
or her.

  “One more thing,” he said.

  “Yes?”

  “Why’d you come here tonight to tell me this?”

  “Like I said,” she replied, “this town would be better off without Adam Grey. I’m hopin’ he did somethin’ to piss you Shaye boys off.”

  “Time will tell,” he said.

  THIRTY-SIX

  James rode into Nogales on the Mexico side the next morning.

  There was quite a difference between the two, but he wasn’t interested in the comparison at that moment. What he was interested in was the sheriff’s office.

  “Montoya’s his name,” Dewey had told him the day before. “You can probably trust him as much as you can trust me.”

  Which wasn’t much, James thought.

  James dismounted and entered the office without knocking. It was early, not yet siesta time, still his entry brought Sheriff Montoya’s boots down off his desk with a bang.

  “Are you Sheriff Montoya?” James asked.

  “Si, señor,” Montoya said, “that is my name. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m lookin’ for my brother.”

  “And who is your hermano, señor?”

  “Deputy Sheriff Thomas Shaye.” James took his badge out of his pocket and dropped it on the man’s desk. “I’m Deputy James Shaye.”

  Montoya picked up the badge and looked at it.

  “It is a very nice badge, señor,” he said, handing it back, “but it means nothing here.”

  “That’s why I’m not depending on my badge to get me what I want,” James said.

  “And what is the señor depending on?”

  “My gun. Do you want me to take that out, too?”

  “No, no, señor,” Montoya said, “no guns. Por favor, not this early in the day. If you want your brother, I will take you to him.”

  Montoya stood up, strapped on his gun, and grabbed his hat from the peg on the wall.

  “Vamanos,” he said. “Follow me, please.”

  “If you’re takin’ me into some kind of trap . . .” James warned.

  “Aieee,” Montoya said, “you are as mistrustful as your brother. Por favor, señor, no trap. I assume you are also searching for the Fleming brothers?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, they are gone,” Montoya said. “There is no danger, no trap. Will you follow me?”