Vengeance Creek: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

50

Sheriff Jarrod Gibney looked up as his office door burst open and four men came tumbling through.

“What the hell—”

“Deputy James Shaye, Sheriff,” James said, introducing himself. “From Vengeance Creek, Arizona.”

“Arizona?” Gibney asked. “Deputy, you’re a little out of your bailiwick, ain’t ya?”

“That may be,” James said, “but I got a prisoner for you.”

“That’s so?” The sheriff stood up, showing that his belly had popped a button at the bottom of his shirt. There was also something on his bushy mustache, maybe left over from breakfast. “What’d he do?”

“He’s part of a gang that robbed our bank and killed everyone who worked in it.”

“Everyone?”

“Every last employee,” James said.

“I ain’t killed nobody.”

“Might be some paper on this one, Sheriff,” Cory said.

“These fellas also deputies?” Gibney asked.

“Posse,” James said. “This here’s Ralph Cory, that’s Rigoberto Colon.”

“Three man posse?”

“Four,” James said. “My brother’s comin’ up behind us. He’s also a deputy.”

“I haven’t heard nothin’ about this Vengeance Creek bank job you’re talkin about—” the sheriff started, but James cut him off.

“Can we talk about it after we put him in a cell, Sheriff?”

“Huh? Oh, sure. Follow me.”

They went into a back room, where there was only one cell. Cory and Colon remained in the office, while James and Gibney put Davis inside the cell.

“We’re still trackin’ two men, Sheriff,” James said. “We’d like to leave Davis here so we can get on with it.”

“Well…for how long?”

“Until we come back.”

“And what do I do if you don’t come back?”

“Contact Sheriff Dan Shaye in Vengeance Creek,” Cory said. “He’ll arrange to have the prisoner picked up.”

Gibney looked at Cory. “Do I know you?” he asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“You look real familiar to me.”

“I get that a lot,” Cory said. “I’ve got that kind of face.”

“Sheriff,” James said, “my brother should be along shortly. His name’s Thomas Shaye. If you’d tell him what happened here and that we continued on our way, I’d be much obliged.”

Now Gibney looked at James. “You’re awful young to be a deputy, ain’t ya?”

“I’m old enough,” James said. “Will you give my brother that message?”

“Well, yeah, but…I don’t know about keepin’ this feller here for too long—”

“I’m gonna talk with him before we leave,” James said, “see what he can tell me about the others we’re chasin’.” He turned to Colon and Cory. “Why don’t you fellas meet me in the saloon?”

Cory, relieved not to have to remain in the office with a lawman who might have recognized him from his bounty hunting days, said, “That suits me.”

“Sí, me also,” Colon said.

“We’ll see you later,” Cory said, and the two men left the office.

“That Cory feller sure looks familiar,” Gibney said.

“I’m gonna talk with the prisoner,” James said. “Would you sit in so you can tell my brother what’s been said?” He figured this would also keep the man from dwelling too long on where he’d seen “Ralph Cory” before.

“Sure, okay,” Gibney said, and they went into the single cell block.