Vengeance Creek: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

4

Shaye and James made late rounds together in an awkward silence. They stopped in several saloons, checked the locked doors of some businesses, made sure the parts of the town that were shutting down for the night were secure, then headed back to the office.

“Pa?” James said on the way.

“Yes, James?”

“You miss Ma, don’t you?”

Shaye hesitated, then said, “I miss Ma and Matthew, James.”

“So do I.”

After a couple more blocks Shaye said, “Why did you ask me that?”

“Um, you hide it real well,” James said. “I mean, you’re…quiet. Somebody lookin’ at you couldn’t tell, you know?”

“Men wear their grief differently, James,” Shaye said. “Look at Thomas. He wears it as quietly as I do.”

“But Thomas talk to me about it.”

“He does?”

“Well…when I ask ’im.”

Shaye put his arm around his younger son’s shoulders. “James, whenever you ask me, I’ll talk to you about it too. How’s that?”

“That’d be good, Pa,” James said. “That’d be real good.”

When Cardwell and Davis registered at the Palace Hotel, Cardwell checked the register to see if any of his other men had arrived yet. They took one room with two beds, went upstairs to drop off their rifles and saddlebags.

“I saw you checkin’ the book,” Davis said. “Anybody else here yet?”

“No,” Cardwell said, “we’re first.”

“I know any of these other fellas?”

“No,” Cardwell said. “I figured you might have a problem double-crossing somebody you know.”

“Not if there’s enough money involved.”

“This bank’s supposed to hold a lot,” Cardwell said. “Lots of ranchers in the area bank here.”

“How do you know that?”

“I got somebody on the inside who’s been keepin’ me informed,” Cardwell said.

“You trust them?”

“I trust the information.”

“You gonna cut them in?”

“I’ll have to see about that.”

Davis went to the window and looked down at the street. “Awful quiet around here once the sun goes down,” he commented.

“We’ll see how busy she is when the sun comes up,” Cardwell said. “Gotta remember this is a weekday too. Folks worked all day and went home to eat and sleep. Weekend might be a little livelier.”

“Why don’t we find a part of town that’s livelier now?” Davis asked. “I could sure use a beer and a woman about now.”

“So could I,” Cardwell said. “Let’s go find ’em.”

Thomas stopped in at the Road House Saloon, where the bartenders and saloon girls all knew him.

“Beer, Tom?” Al Baker asked him.

“Yep.”

Baker, who not only worked the bar but owned the place, placed a cold mug in front of Thomas, who paid him. Thomas had long ago told Baker that whether he was wearing a badge or not, he paid his way. The older man respected him for that.

“Hi, Tommy.” A blonde in a red dress sidled up to him, pressing her hips firmly against his. He could feel the warmth through both their clothes.

“Hello, Belinda.”

“Been a while since you came to see me.”

He didn’t want to tell her that he only came around when he was depressed, and that he’d had a few good weeks until now.

“Been busy.”

“Too busy for me?” She stuck out her lower lip and blinked her eyes. She was a few years older than him, and while he liked her, the little girl trick didn’t suit her.

“Don’t do that,” he said. “You look silly when you do that.”

“Ooh,” she said, removing her hips from his, “somebody’s in a bad mood.”

“Foul,” he corrected her. “I’m in a foul mood.”

“Well,” she said, “I’ll leave you alone, then,” and she flounced away.

Belinda was pretty enough, but not tonight. Tonight it would take a lot to change his mood—maybe even a miracle.