Vengeance Creek: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

40

Ben Cardwell and Simon Jacks came to the town of Blue Mesa, Arizona, at around dusk. It was only a few miles from the borders of Colorado and Utah Territory. From there they could go on to either, or they could split up and go their separate ways.

Jacks was having second thoughts about doing that, though. While he had not counted the money in his saddlebags, he knew it was more than he’d ever had at one time before. That was due to Ben Cardwell, and he knew it. Even once they combined the contents of their saddlebags and then split the money in half, he would have more money that he’d ever had before—but was that enough? Apparently, not for Ben Cardwell. He’d been talking for days about this bank he knew of in Colorado.

“You think this is a lot of money?” he’d asked Jacks, tapping his saddlebags. “This ain’t nothin’.”

Cardwell could be an asshole sometimes, but for the promise of more money Jacks thought he could put up with it. He liked not having to do any of the planning himself.

“We been ridin’ for days,” he said as they rode into Blue Mesa. “Is this where we finally count the money?”

Cardwell had refused to count up the money until they could do it in a hotel room, and so far they hadn’t passed a town he wanted to stop in.

“This is it,” he said, “and then we can either stay together or go our separate ways.”

“I think I’d kinda like to see this other bank you been talkin’ about,” Jacks said.

Cardwell smiled and said, “I thought you might.”

At that same moment, Sean Davis was preparing to spend another night in a cold camp. He was a day’s ride from Blue Mesa, although he didn’t know it. He had a feeling he knew where Cardwell and Jacks were heading. Cardwell had always talked about this one bank he wanted to hit—said that it might even be his last job. Davis just hoped that the two men wouldn’t split up at some point, because then he’d have to choose which trail to follow. He didn’t much care about Simon Jacks, who just did whatever Cardwell told him.

The one he wanted to catch up to was Cardwell.

“They’re headin’ northeast,” Ralph Cory said.

“You sound surprised,” Thomas said.

“I thought they’d head for Utah Territory.”

“And where do you think they’re headed now?” James asked.

“Well, it could still be Utah,” Cory said, “but it might be Colorado.”

“I expected them to split up by now,” Rigoberto Colon said.

They were all sitting their horses, waiting for someone—Thomas, most likely—to decide if they should camp or get another half hour under their belts before dark, and now they turned and looked at the Mexican.

“It was just a thought,” he said, shrugging. “They must have split the money by now, no?”

“I don’t think so,” Cory said.

Thomas and James looked at him.

“I think they’re waiting to reach a town where they might be able to get some rest, split the money, and plan their next move.”

“We’ve only been tracking them a few days,” Thomas said.

“They’ve been pushing their horses,” Cory said, “and so have we.”

“And what about the man in the middle?” James asked.

Now the eyes of the other three men landed on him.

“I mean the man between us and them.”

“Same thing,” Cory said. “We’re all pushing our animals, and we either have to rest them or risk having them go lame beneath us.”

They’d bypassed several small towns, as the tracks they were following indicated that the other two men had done the same.

“You got a town in mind?” Thomas asked Cory.

“No,” Cory said, “just something bigger than the ones we’ve passed, but not too big, and something strategically situated.”

“What is strat—strati—” Colon started.

“He means a town located someplace…handy,” James explained to him.

“In what way?”

“Well,” Cory said, “it would be on the borders of two or three different states, or territories.”

“Like Arizona, Utah Territory, and Colorado?” Thomas asked.

“Exactly,” Cory said. “If they split up there, they’ve got their choice of where to go.”

“But we can still track them, right?” James asked.

“We can…” Cory said.

“Unless?” Thomas asked.

“Unless they switch horses.”

“We better keep movin’, then,” James said.

“Wait,” Thomas said. “Ralph is right, the horses need rest.”

“And so do we?” Colon offered.

“I can keep ridin’—” James said, but his older brother cut him off.

“No,” he said. “We’ll camp here, James.”

“But—”

“We’re still a couple of days behind them, James,” Cory said. “It’s not going to do any harm to camp for the night and get a fresh start in the morning.”

“But if they stop in a town—”

“Then we’ll be able to get some information about them when we reach it,” Cory finished. “It’s actually the best thing for us if they do stop.”

“And split the money?” James asked. “And switch horses?”

“They do all that and they’ll attract attention, leaving us a bigger trail to follow,” Cory said. “Let’s do like your brother says and camp for the night.”

All eyes fell on James, who squirmed beneath the attention.

“All right,” he said reluctantly. This was all still a learning experience for him. He wanted to absorb all he could from “Ralph Cory.”

“Same chores, everyone,” Thomas said. He dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to Colon. The others did the same, and the Mexican went off to take care of the horses.

While Cory went to find some wood for a fire, James said to Thomas, “Do you trust him?”

“Cory?” Thomas asked. “Or Berto?”

“Well…both of ’em.”

“Pa trusted them enough to send them along with us,” Thomas said, clapping his brother on the back. “That’s good enough for me.”