Vengeance Creek: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

19

Cardwell had taken into account the fact that the bank was in the center of town. His men were spread out in front so they could handle trouble from any direction. Two of them saw Dan Shaye running toward them, the early morning sun glinting off his badge, and they opened up on him. One bullet struck Shaye in the hip, made him stagger and fall, but he drew his gun as he did so and fired back.

James came running from the same end of town as his father. He’d had a longer run, and when he got there, he saw that his father was down but was firing. “Pa!”

He drew his gun, ran to where his father was kneeling on the ground. He fired two shots of his own, then grabbed Shaye and dragged him behind a horse trough.

“Pa? You hit?”

“Yeah, I’m hit, James,” Shaye said, the pain plain in his voice.

“Bad?”

“Can’t tell yet,” Shaye said.

The robbers were still firing, keeping them pinned down. Shaye assumed that the first two shots he’d heard had come from inside the bank. There were no more shots from there.

“James, where’s Thomas?”

“Other end of town, Pa, checking hotels,” James said. “He should be here soon.”

“Gotta warn him—” Shaye said, but then there were shots from another quarter, and he knew they were too late.

Thomas came running onto the scene from the other direction, and was immediately fired upon. The shots flew uselessly around him, and he took cover immediately behind a bunch of barrels in front of the hardware store. From where he was, he could see the bank but not his brother or his father. He returned fire, but a barrage from three other men forced him to duck back down behind the barrels. From the writing on them, he knew the barrels were filled with nails. They were plenty good cover against the fusillade of shots being laid down at him.

He knew his father and brother would either hear the shots and come running or had already done so. He could hear other shots beyond the bank when the men stopped firing at him. Apparently, his father and James were in the same situation he was.

“There were other shots bein’ fired,” James said to his father once all the shooting had stopped for the moment.

“Thomas,” he said. “James, look around. Has anyone else responded to the shootin’?”

James looked around them, but there were no townspeople coming to their aid. If anyone had heard the shots, they were hiding inside until the danger passed.

“No one, Pa,” he said.

“Epitaph all over again,” Shaye said.

“What do we do, Pa?”

“Can you see the bank?” Shaye asked. “I assume that’s what this is all about.”

James craned his neck. “I can see the front door.”

“James,” Shaye said, “if there are men inside the bank, we can’t let them leave—whether it’s with money or a hostage, or both.”

“Nancy,” James said, rising into a crouch.

“Don’t do anything stupid, son,” Shaye said.

“We can’t do anything at all, pinned down like this,” James complained.

“We can see the door,” Shaye said. “That’s something.”

James looked at his father, saw the blood on his hip and thigh.

“How bad are you hit, Pa?”

“I think the bullet took a chunk out of my hip and kept on goin’,” Shaye said. “It’s not bad, but it would help if we stopped the bleeding.”

“Let me shift you back a little so you can watch the bank entrance, and then I’ll see about that.”

He gripped his father beneath his arms and moved him just a bit, then removed his bandanna and tried to plug the wound. He needed his father’s bandanna as well, but eventually got the bleeding under control.

“Hurt?” James asked.

“A lot,” Shaye said.

“I wonder why they’re not shootin’ anymore,” James said.

“We’re not tryin’ to move,” Shaye said, “and Thomas probably isn’t either.”

James looked at his father. “Or he’s…”

Jacks looked out the front window. One of his men saw him, waved, and used sign language to fill him in on the situation.

“What’s goin’ on?” Cardwell demanded.

“Looks like our boys have got the law pinned down,” Jacks said, turning to look at Cardwell. There were four sacks at the man’s feet, all filled with money. On the floor in front of the manager’s office was the foolish manager, who had come running out holding a gun. Cardwell had gunned him down immediately, and the manager fired a couple of harmless shots as he went down.

“What about the law?”

“Best I can figure,” Jacks said, “they might have an angle on us.” He moved to another window. “Looks like they’re on both sides, under cover.”

“What about Davis? With the horses?”

Jacks peered both ways. “I can’t see the horses.”

“He might have them in an alley,” Cardwell said.

Jacks turned to face Cardwell fully. He had his gun in his hand and his hand at his side. The other employees were grouped in one corner of the bank.

“Your call, Ben,” Jacks said.

“Take these money bags over to the door,” Cardwell said. “I’m thinkin’.”

Jacks came over and dragged the canvas bags over to the door. Cardwell walked over to where the bank employees were grouped. There were four of them, two women and two men, and they all looked frightened.

“Is there another way out?” he asked. “Side door? Back door?”

When there was no answer, he raised his gun, cocked the hammer back, and pointed it at one woman.

“I’m only gonna ask one more time.”