Chapter 4 - Silas Creed
Silas Creed had aged elegantly.
Cade hated him for that.
Some men collected their crimes in their faces.
Creed looked as though he collected interest.
He stepped into the jail carrying no visible weapon.
He did not need one.
Sheriff Vale stood beside him.
Outside waited armed men.
“Cade Thorn,” Creed said. “Eleven years.”
“Not long enough.”
Creed smiled.
“And Taza’s little sister.”
Nalin moved toward the bars.
“You knew him.”
“I employed him.”
“You tried to kill him.”
Creed’s expression remained pleasant.
“History depends greatly on who survives.”
Cade gripped the medallion in his palm.
“That why you brought me here?”
“I didn’t bring you.”
“No?”
“I merely arranged circumstances.”
Vale laughed.
Cade looked at him.
“The stagecoach driver.”
Creed nodded.
“Paid to mention a young Apache woman being dragged into Dry Creek.”
Cade remembered the driver at Mescal Crossing.
A nervous man drinking coffee who had spoken loudly about three ranch hands abusing a woman outside the Silver Dollar.
Cade had changed his route.
Predictable.
Again.
“What do you want?”
Creed looked at Nalin.
“The token.”
“No,” she said.
Vale moved toward the cell.
Creed raised one finger.
The sheriff stopped.
“What does seventeen mean?” Nalin asked.
Creed studied her.
“Your uncle discovered old records.”
“Which records?”
“Ones that belonged to me.”
Cade understood.
“The rifles.”
Creed’s smile thinned.
“Much more than rifles.”
Cade remembered the strange ledger Taza found beneath the wagon seat.
Names.
Numbers.
Army officers.
Ranchers.
Freight companies.
He had seen it for perhaps thirty seconds before gunfire began.
“You were selling weapons.”
“To people who purchased them.”
“To both sides.”
Creed shrugged.
“Sides change.”
Nalin stared at him.
“You armed men who attacked Apache camps.”
“Yes.”
“And sold weapons to Apache raiders too?”
“Yes.”
Creed did not bother pretending morality.
“Fear is good business, Miss Nalin. Frightened settlers purchase protection. Frightened ranchers hire guards. Frightened Army officers request larger budgets. Frightened Apache bands trade livestock, silver, information. Every conflict has men who pray for peace.”
He smiled.
“And men who invoice war.”
Cade felt old disgust return.
“Why Dry Creek?”
“Railroad.”
Of course.
Creed continued.
“A new freight line will cross this territory within eighteen months. Dry Creek becomes a supply town. Land values multiply.”
“What does Nalin’s uncle have to do with it?”
“He owned water.”
Nalin’s eyes narrowed.
Her uncle’s ranch lay east of town.
A spring-fed creek crossed it.
In Arizona, water was sometimes worth more than silver.
Creed said, “Rail companies require water rights.”
“So you burned him out.”
“I offered money.”
“He refused.”
“Yes.”
“Then Gabe killed him.”
Creed looked mildly annoyed.
“Gabe was instructed to frighten him.”
Nalin surged at the bars.
“You burned an old man alive.”
“Gabe drinks.”
Cade watched Creed carefully.
“So Gabe is expendable.”
“Everyone is eventually.”
Including Vale.
Vale heard it.
Cade saw his jaw tighten.
Useful.
Creed extended his hand toward Nalin.
“The token.”
She closed her fist.
“No.”
Creed sighed.
“That token identifies one of the original freight crates. Your uncle found it beneath his floorboards.”
Nalin frowned.
“How did it get there?”
Creed looked at Cade.
Cade understood before he spoke.
“Taza.”
Nalin turned.
Cade nodded.
“After the ambush, Taza had time before they caught us.”
“What did he do?”
“He hid something.”
“Where?”
“I never knew.”
Creed said, “Apparently he managed to send part of it home.”
Nalin stared.
“My uncle never told me.”
“He may not have understood.”
Creed moved closer.
“But shortly before his death he wrote to a territorial newspaper asking whether freight token seventeen meant anything.”
Nalin’s expression hardened.
Creed continued.
“The letter was intercepted.”
“By Vale?”
Vale said nothing.
Nalin looked at the sheriff.
Creed smiled.
“Useful man.”
Cade shifted his weight against the cell wall.
“What evidence are you actually afraid of?”
Creed’s eyes moved to him.
“Always the right question eventually.”
“The token alone proves nothing.”
“Correct.”
“Then there is something else.”
Creed remained silent.
Nalin understood.
“My uncle found it.”
Creed’s face gave away almost nothing.
Almost.
“The ranch,” she whispered.
Cade looked at her.
“You think something is still there?”
“My uncle tore up part of the floor before Gabe came.”
“What part?”
“His bedroom.”
Creed’s smile vanished.
There.
Nalin had not known the significance until now.
Neither had Creed.
Cade almost smiled.
Creed stepped toward Vale.
“Change of plan.”
Vale frowned.
“What plan?”
“We leave tonight.”
“With them?”
“With her.”
Cade said, “And me?”
Creed looked at him.
“You die attempting escape.”
Vale stiffened.
“That wasn’t the agreement.”
Creed did not even look at him.
“The agreement changed.”
Cade saw the sheriff’s hand tighten around his belt.
Good.
Creed had made the oldest mistake powerful men made.
He assumed people beneath them had no pride.
Vale said, “You said trial.”
“A trial creates records.”
“You said Thorn would hang.”
“He still will.”
“After killing me?”
Creed finally faced him.
“I did not say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Silence.
Cade glanced at Nalin.
She saw it too.
The trap had cracked.
Not enough.
But a crack.
Creed turned to leave.
Before reaching the door, he looked back.
“Sheriff, move the woman to the rear cell.”
Vale remained still.
Creed’s voice cooled.
“Now.”
Vale unlocked the outer gate.
Cade watched his hands.
Key ring.
Six keys.
One brass.
One iron.
Nalin moved slowly.
As Vale opened her cell, Cade suddenly staggered.
He let his knees collapse.
Vale instinctively looked down.
Nalin acted.
She drove her scraped palm into Vale’s face.
Cade seized his shotgun.
The weapon fired into the ceiling.
Wood exploded.
Vale shouted.
Nalin grabbed the key ring.
Creed ran for the door.
Cade slammed the shotgun stock into Vale’s stomach.
The sheriff folded.
Nalin found the cell key.
Outside, men shouted.
Boots pounded toward the jail.
Nalin unlocked Cade.
He grabbed the shotgun.
“One shell left.”
“How many men?”
“Too many.”
The rear window shattered as a bullet tore through.
Cade ducked.
Nalin pulled Vale’s revolver.
Creed shouted from outside:
“Kill Thorn! Take the woman alive!”
Cade looked toward the back wall.
No door.
One barred window.
One stove.
One desk.
Nalin pointed at the stove pipe.
“Roof?”
Cade smiled despite the pain.
“You climb?”
“Better than you.”
Another bullet struck the wall.
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Cade shoved the desk beneath the stove pipe.
“Prove it.”
