In the Renegade Saloon, Red Fleming and his six men were lined up at the bar. Fleming and Candy were off to one side, while the other five men stood at the other end, laughing and drinking.
“Gimme another drink,” Fleming said to the bartender.
The man came over with a bottle and filled his shot glass. Fleming reached out and grabbed the bartender’s arm.
“Leave the bottle.”
“Yeah, sure,” the bartender said, and put it down.
“Red,” Candy asked, “when are we gonna go look for some Shayes?”
“We ain’t,” Fleming said. “They’re gonna find us.” He pushed the bottle toward Candy. “Have another.”
“You wanna be drunk when they find us?” Candy asked.
“I don’t get drunk when I drink,” Red Fleming said. “I get faster.”
“What about them?” Candy asked, indicating the other men.
“They’ll get drunk,” Fleming said, “and then dead.”
“So you’re willin’ to sacrifice them to get your brother out of jail?”
“Every last one of ’em.”
“And me?”
“No,” Fleming said. “Of course not you, Candy.”
Candy studied Fleming’s profile as the man stared into his own whiskey glass, then pushed the bottle away.
When the Shayes reached the saloon, Daniel stopped and peered over the tops of the batwing doors.
“There’s a group of men at the bar,” he said to his sons. “Take a look, James.”
He moved aside so James could take his place.
“That’s them,” James said, “Those are the men I saw ride in. Is one of ’em Red Fleming?”
“I don’t know,” Shaye said, “but let’s find out.” He turned to Thomas. “Don’t draw unless I do.”
“Okay.”
Then, remembering that his son was faster than he was, he added, “Unless it becomes absolutely necessary.”
“Got it.”
Thomas and James bookended their father and the three of them entered the saloon.
Red Fleming had been watching the batwings in the mirror behind the bar. When the lawmen walked in, he wasn’t surprised. He nudged Candy, who looked over his shoulder, then moved down to the men at the end of the bar.
“Okay,” he said, “it’s time for you fellas to earn your money.”
“Those three?” one asked.
“Yep.”
“They don’t look like much.”
“Just do your jobs,” Candy said, and moved back toward Red as the lawmen approached the bar.
“Red Fleming?”
One of the men turned as Shaye said his name.
“Can I help you, Sheriff?”
“Shaye,” the lawman said, “my name’s Sheriff Shaye. These are my deputies—”
“And your sons,” Fleming finished. “Yeah, I heard of you.”
“Then you’ve also heard that we have your brother in our jail.”
“Oh, yeah. I heard.”
Thomas noticed that Fleming’s gun was on his left hip, and his whiskey glass was in his right hand. It was standard practice for a gunman to leave his gunhand free.
“So, is that why you came to town?” Shaye asked. “To break him out?”
“We came to town to have some drinks,” the man said. “That’s all. Breaking into your jail, that would be against the law. We don’t break the law. Ain’t that right, boys?”
“That’s right, boss,” one of them said, and the others nodded and laughed. “We never break the law.”
“Wouldn’t even think of it,” another said.
“So why don’t you lawmen go and shoot a stray dog or somethin’,” a third man said, causing more laughter.
James bristled. “Tell me, if I go back to the office and look through our wanted posters, what will I find? Pictures of any of you, maybe?”
“And what if you did?” the man who mentioned the stray dog asked. “What would the three of you do to the six of us, huh?”
“Wait a minute,” Shaye said, looking at his sons. “Six?”
“What?” James asked.
“There were seven men when we came in,” Shaye said. “Now there’s six.”
“You’re right,” Thomas said.
“What are you talkin’ about?” the man who answered to Red Fleming’s name demanded.
“You’re not Fleming,” Shaye said.
“The jail!” Thomas said. “Damn!”
“Wait a minute!” the false Fleming—actually Candy—said.
“Go!” Shaye shouted to Thomas.
Thomas turned and ran for the door.
“Hold it!” Candy yelled.
“Go for that gun and we’re gonna have some big problems,” Shaye said to Candy.
The other five men were fidgety now, watching Candy for a signal.
Candy, on the other hand, was calming down. Fleming hadn’t said anything about getting into a shoot-out with the law. He just wanted to get his brother out of jail.
“Okay, hold on, now,” he said to Shaye. “Nobody said anythin’ about goin’ for their guns.”
“No,” Shaye said, “you were just supposed to keep us busy here long enough for Fleming to get his brother out.”
Candy didn’t answer. He held his hand up to the other men, to keep them from doing something stupid.
“If somethin’ bad happens in my jail,” Shaye said, “you’re all gonna pay for it.”
“Well then,” one of the other men said, “maybe we should just go for our guns, huh, Candy?”