Vengeance Creek: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

59

As Thomas and Cory reached the base of their mountain, Cardwell and Jacks arrived in the town of Trinidad, not far north of the Colorado border.

“You know,” Jacks said, just as an observation, “we could head south into New Mexico, get lost there for a while.”

“I’m not givin’ up my bank, Simon,” Cardwell said. “I been wantin’ to hit this one for a long time, and now I’m gonna do it. After that, we could retire to New Mexico if we wanted to.”

Cardwell had been dangling that carrot in front of Jacks for days now. But the addition of Bart Durant to the mix was making Jacks unhappy. He hated Durant, and knew the man returned the feeling. The two would just as soon shoot each other as look at each other. There was going to have to be a lot of money involved to change that.

A helluva lot.

“Hey, wasn’t Bat Masterson the law here for a while?” Jacks asked.

“’Bout eight years ago, I think,” Cardwell said, “in 1882, but I don’t think he was even here a year.”

“Wonder where he is now?”

“Denver, I think,” Cardwell said, “but not wearin’ a badge.”

They rode into the center of town, which was bustling with activity. Folks were rushing to stores and the bank before closing time, and women were rushing home to get supper ready for their men and their families. Children were happy to be out of school and were enjoying their temporary freedom.

“Where’s Durant supposed to meet us?” Jacks asked.

“The Columbian Hotel.”

“Where’s that?”

Cardwell reined his horse to a halt and said, “Right there,” with a jerk of his chin.

The Columbian was on the corner of Main and Commercial, and had been built eleven years ago, in 1879.

“Looks expensive.”

“We can afford it.”

“We?” Jacks asked. “You think I’m payin’ for Durant’s room in that hotel—”

“Okay, okay,” Cardwell said, “it’ll come out of my end. You happy now?”

“Yeah, I’m happy.”

“Come on,” Cardwell said, “let’s get the horses cared for, and then we’ll find Durant and get this over with.”

“One hour,” Rigoberto Colon said, holding some of the dirt in his hand.

“We’re closin’ on them,” James said. “Damn. If Thomas and Ralph had stayed—”

“We cannot worry about that now,” Colon said, mounting up again. “We must decide what to do if we catch up to them.”

“There’s no question,” James said. “We’ll take ’em.”

Colon didn’t reply.

“You got another idea, Berto?”

“I was just thinkin’, Jefe.”

“About what?”

“They have changed direction.”

“Whataya mean?”

“They are going more east now, not so much north.”

“Which means?’

“One of two things.”

“I’m listening, Berto.”

“They are probably going to Trinidad.”

“What’s there?”

“Supplies,” Colon said. “Also, if they go to Trinidad and then head north, they avoid going over the mountains.”

“So they’re takin’ the long way around.”

“Sí.”

“Which works for us if we’re right about where they’re heading,” James said.

“Sí,” Colon said again.

“But you said two things.”

Colon looked at James. “Perhaps they still stop in Trinidad and then go south.”

“Which means Thomas and Ralph are goin’ the wrong way.”

“Sí.”

James thought a moment, then said, “Well, either way, they’re headin’ for Trinidad, right?”

“It would appear so.”

“And how long will it take us to get there?”

“About an hour.”

“Let’s go, then,” James said. “If they’re there when we get there, we can decide what to do.”

“And if not,” Colon said, “if they have already left, we’ll know whether they are riding north or south.”

“Yeah.”

As they headed toward Trinidad, James was acutely aware that his brother was up on a mountain because of his idea. If the bank robbers headed south, Thomas was going to be completely out of this hunt, and it would fall to him to apprehend them and bring them back.

Or kill them.

Suddenly, he wished he had “Ralph Cory” with him rather than Berto Colon.