He headed north.
James and Colon rode into Trinidad from one end as Ben Cardwell was riding out the other.
“Where do we look?” James said aloud.
“The livery,” Colon said. “We find the horse with the track, and then we find the man who belongs to the horse.”
“Simple as that, huh?”
Colon looked at James and grinned. “Sí, Jefe, simple as that.”
They were riding past the Columbian Hotel when all hell seemed to break loose….
Durant finished his beer, then slid his chair back, stood and walked into the lobby. He walked to the front desk and got the clerk’s attention.
“Where are the bathtubs?”
“Down that hall, sir,” the clerk said. “I can have one drawn for you. Are you a guest of the hotel?”
“No,” Durant said, “I just want to surprise an old friend.”
“Sir, I can’t let you—” the clerk started, but then he saw the money Durant was holding out to him. “Yes, of course, sir. I hope he’s very surprised.”
“Don’t worry,” Durant said, “he will be.”
Simon Jacks hated taking baths, so he took quick ones. He left his gun belt hanging on a chair next to the tub when he got in, so the gun was within easy reach. He was still feeling uneasy about Cardwell giving him all the money to hold. It just didn’t sit right—and yet leaving the saddlebags in the room made sense to him. A man holding his saddlebags too close at all times would certainly look like someone who had something valuable. That was all some men would need to target him, and Cardwell was right, they didn’t need the attention.
But he bathed extra fast so he could get back to his room, where all the money from the Vengeance Creek job was underneath the bed. He was pulling on his trousers when he heard a floorboard creak outside the door. He grabbed his gun belt, freed the gun just as the door slammed open.
“Durant!” he shouted.
In that moment he knew he’d been betrayed. He was supposed to be in the tub, up to his neck in water when Durant burst in. An easy target for his hated enemy.
Durant looked shocked as Jacks raised his gun. But the man had quick reflexes, and before Jacks could fire, he backed out of the room and ran down the hall toward the lobby.
Shoeless, Jacks chased him. He knew he had to finish Durant quick and get to Cardwell before the man could leave town.
He ran out into the hall, dropped to his knees as Durant fired two quick shots at him before running out into the lobby. Jacks chased him, came out into the lobby as people were scrambling for cover.
Durant turned in the middle of the lobby and fired at Jacks. One bullet struck the wall behind Jacks, while the other plowed into the desk clerk. As the man fell to the floor, Jacks stepped over him and returned fire.
“Damn you, Durant!” he shouted. “Damn you!”
Durant was furious. Things had not gone as planned, and he blamed Cardwell for that. If he hadn’t had to wait long enough for the man to get out of town, Jacks would have been easy pickings in the tub. He also blamed Jacks for taking such a quick bath. Didn’t the man know baths were for soaking in?
People were running through the lobby or simply hitting the floor to get out of the way of flying lead. Durant had two choices. He could run upstairs and go after the money, or head out into the street—but what if the money wasn’t there? No, the best thing to do was take care of Jacks first and then go for the money.
He decided to take the fight out into the street. Jacks had no boots on, and that might be an advantage.
He turned and went out the front door, firing two shots behind him for cover…
James and Colon heard the shots and reined their horses in. Suddenly, the front door of the hotel began belching out people.
“What the hell—” James said.
“Dismount!” Colon shouted.
Both men dropped from their horses and drew their guns just as a man with a gun came running out of the hotel, firing wildly behind him.
“Berto.”
Colon put his hand on James’s arm. “Wait.”
The man with the gun reached the street and turned around, waiting for someone. At that moment a second man came through the door, shoeless, gun in hand. He spotted the man in the street and both men began firing at the same time. The man in the street got the worst of it as two bullets slammed into his chest. James and Colon saw blood spurt from his back as the bullets went right through him. The man’s gun flew from his hand as he fell onto his back in the dirt.
Jacks put two bullets into Durant’s chest, and he’d never felt such satisfaction before. As the man fell onto his back, he saw two men watching, and one of them was wearing a badge. He recognized him from Vengeance Creek. It was one of the Shaye deputies. Jesus, had they trailed him here?
Jacks knew he was never going to get a chance at that sonofabitch Cardwell unless he got through this deputy. The man was just staring, not sure of what was happening. Jacks realized that while he knew who the deputy was, the young lawman did not know him.
He had to take the boy out while he had the chance….
“What the hell was that about?” James asked.
“I do not know,” Colon said.
James started as the man fired in their direction. He heard Colon grunt and go down, looked over and saw him holding his shoulder. He grabbed for his own gun as the man pulled the trigger again. He didn’t find out later that the only thing that had saved his life was that Jacks’s gun was empty. He didn’t know that, however, when he pulled the trigger of his own gun and shot Simon Jacks in the chest.
63
It was deathly quiet on the street once the shooting stopped. Then James heard the sound of men running. When he turned, he saw three men with badges advancing on him, their guns out. Instantly, he put his hands in the air, his gun still in his right.
“It’s all over!” he shouted. “It’s over!”
“Drop the gun!” the man wearing the sheriff’s badge hollered back. “Drop it!”
“Easy! Take it easy,” James said. “I’m a lawman.” He looked down at Colon, who was holding his hand over his shoulder, ribbons of blood running through his fingers. “My friend needs a doctor.”
“Drop the gun, I said.”
James obeyed, dropping his pistol to the ground. The lawman took in the picture before him, then said to his deputies, “Check on those other two.”
“Right, Sheriff,” one of them said.
The lawman was tall, square-shouldered, with a face that looked as if it had been carved from granite.
“I’m Sheriff Sam Dean. Identify yourself,” he said.
“I’m Deputy James Shaye, from Vengeance Creek, Arizona.”
“Arizona?” The man frowned. “You’re a little out of your jurisdiction. Let me see your badge.”
James moved his arms so the man could see his badge.
“Toss it over here.”
James hesitated, then took it off and tossed it to the man, who caught it deftly in his left hand. The sheriff looked at it, then put it in his pocket.
“Hey!” James protested.
“You’ll get it back…when I’m sure it’s yours.”
James was going to protest again, but a groan from Rigoberto Colon changed his mind.
“My friend needs a doctor.”
“He’s with you?”
“Yes.”
“Also a deputy?”
“No, he’s just…with me.”
“Part of your posse, I suppose?”
“That’s right.”
“Sheriff,” one of the deputies said, “they’re both dead.”
“That one killed that one,” James said, pointing, “and I killed him.”