Pearl River Junction

by Robert J. Randisi

“The kind of trouble you fellas must be used to by now.”

  “Okay,” Thomas said. “Thanks.”

  “Can you take it outside?” the bartender asked. “I gotta close up.”

  “Don’t worry,” Thomas said. “We’re not lookin’ for trouble.”

  Somehow that didn’t ease the bartender’s mind. He went back behind the bar.

  “What do you wanna do, Thomas?” James asked.

  “I’d like to get out of here and back to our hotel without trouble,” Thomas said, “but my guess is that’s not gonna be up to us.”

  James turned for the first time and looked at the three men.

  “They look like ranch hands, Thomas,” he said. “Not gun hands.”

  “But they’re wearin’ guns, James,” Thomas said. “They’re wearin’ guns.”

  “Let’s try ’em.” Cobb said.

  “What?” Franks asked.

  Cobb turned and looked at his two compadres.

  “Come on, they don’t look like much. One of them’s hardly old enough to shave. Let’s brace ’em, see how tough they are.”

  “B-but…ain’t they lawmen?” Martin asked.

  “Not no more, they ain’t,” Cobb said. “Besides, them two ain’t wearin’ no badges.”

  “I don’t know—” Martin said. “I think we better get back to the ranch, Cobb.”

  “Nobody cares what you think, Kel,” Cobb said. He looked at Franks. “Whataya say, Harley? Wanna have some fun?”

  Harley Franks had just enough beer and whiskey in him from a whole night of drinking that the idea appealed to him. They worked hard punching cows all the time. Where was the harm in having some fun?

  “Why not?” he said. “What do we do?”

  Cobb turned as he heard chairs scraping the floor and saw the two Shayes standing up, getting ready to leave.

  “You two just follow my lead,” he said to Franks and Martin. “We make them back down and we’ll be the ones with a rep, not them.”

  “I’m a cowhand,” Martin said, confused. “I don’t want a rep.”

  Nobody was listening.

  23

  “Let’s just leave, James,” Thomas said. “There’s nothin’ else we can do.”

  “All right.”

  They pushed their chairs back and stood up. The bartender was behind the bar, watching all five men warily. There was a shotgun under the bar, but he wasn’t going to get involved.

  As they headed for the door, one of the men pushed away from the bar, followed by the other two, although Thomas could see one of them was moving reluctantly.

  “Hold on, gents,” the man said. “What’s your hurry?”

  “No hurry,” Thomas said. “It’s closin’ time and we’re leavin’.”

  “But we ain’t even met yet,” the man said. “My name’s Cobb. What’s yours?”

  “It’s a little late to be makin’ new friends, don’t you think?” Thomas asked. “Besides, I get the feelin’ you and your partners already know our names.”

  “Shaye, right?” Cobb asked. “Dan Shaye’s sons?”

  “That’s right,” James said. “What about it?”

  “I was just wonderin’,” Cobb said, chuckling. “Didn’t your daddy give you your own names?”

  “Friend,” Thomas said, “we don’t have time for this. Move out of the way. We’re leavin’.”

  “With your tails between your legs?” Cobb asked.

  “What?” James asked. Thomas put a steadying hand on his little brother’s arm.

  “That’s the only way you’re leavin’,” Cobb said. “With your tails between your legs…ain’t that right, boys?”

  “Uh, right,” Franks said.

  “Um…” Martin said.

  Thomas looked at the other two men. One looked confused and the other simply looked drunk.

  “You fellas gonna let your friend’s mouth get you into all kinds of trouble?” he asked them. “Because that’s what he’s doin’. He’s lookin’ for trouble.”

  “And he’s gonna find it,” James added.

  “You boys got guns on,” Thomas said. “You ready to use ’em?”

  “Hey…” Harley Franks said. “Hey…nobody said anything about no gunplay.”

  “Well,” Thomas said, “your friend says we’re leavin’ here with our tails between our legs. The only way we’re gonna do that is if you fellas know how to use those guns of yours.”

  “Cobb—” Martin said.

  “Shut up, Kel. They’re bluffin’.”

  “Bluffin’?” Thomas said. “What would we be bluffin’ about, Cobb?”

  “You ain’t gonna use them guns.”

  “Why not?” Thomas asked. “You seem to know our reputation. What makes you think I won’t kill you to get by you and then go back to my hotel and sleep like a baby?”

  Cobb stared at Thomas. James looked at the other men, both of whom were shuffling their feet nervously.

  “Time for you two to go,” he said.

  Martin and Franks exchanged a glance.

  “Now!” James snapped. “Last chance.”

  Both men jumped, then turned and headed for the door.

  “Sorry, Cobb,” Franks said on his way out.

  Both men went through the batwing doors so quickly that they swung back and forth violently in their wake. Cobb didn’t turn his head or take his eyes off Thomas. It was as if he were afraid to, afraid that Thomas would shoot him down if he did.

  “Now it’s your turn,” Thomas said. “Turn around and walk away.”

  “With my tail between my legs?”

  “That’s exactly—” James started, but Thomas cut him off.

  “No,” Thomas said. “You can leave with your…dignity, if you like. Let’s just say this was all a mistake.”

  Cobb continued to stare at him.

  “Back out if you want,” Thomas said. “We’ll wait.”

  Joe Cobb kept his hand away from his gun and started taking steps backward. Eventually, he had to turn his head to find the door, but he did it quickly. It wasn’t until he had one foot out the door that he stopped and turned back.

  “I can’t do it,” he said.

  Thomas turned his head and looked at James.

  “Step away,” he said.

  James obeyed.

  “Bartender?” Thomas said. “You watchin’ this?”

  “Uh, y-yes, sir.”

  “Good.” He turned back to Cobb. “Last chance.”

  “I can’t,” Cobb said and went for his gun.

  Thomas’s hand flashed down, drew his gun, and fired before Cobb had a chance to clear leather. The impact of the shot to the man’s chest tossed him through the batwing doors and off the boardwalk, where he landed on his back in the street.

  “Jesus…” the bartender said.

  “Yeah…” James said.

  Thomas ejected the spent shell, replaced it, holstered the gun, and then said to James, “We’ll have to wait here for the law.”

  24

  At breakfast the next morning, Thomas and James told their father what happened after he left the Wagon Wheel the night before.

  “Did the sheriff come?” Shaye asked.

  “He did,” Thomas said. “The bartender backed my story that Cobb gave me no choice.”

  “And you still have your gun?” Shaye asked. “He’s not holding you over for a hearing?”

  “No,” Thomas said. “I thought he was going to, but I think he let us go because of our names.”

  Shaye thought about that for a moment.

  “I guess I hadn’t realized what kind of reputation tracking the Langer gang down had given us,” Shaye said.

  “Not to mention Vengeance Creek,” Thomas said.

  Shaye rubbed his face with both hands.

  “So our rep first got you into trouble—and then out.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Maybe my plan to hole up in Winchester at the ranch was the right one,” he said.

  “I don’t kn
ow, Pa,” Thomas said. “Don’t that sort of sound like…hidin’ out.”

  “Yep, it sounds a lot like hidin’ out,” Shaye agreed.

  “Well, why should we?” Thomas asked, looking from his father to James and back. “It ain’t like we’re outlaws.”

  “We got nothin’ to be ashamed of, Pa,” James said.

  “No, you’re right, James,” Shaye said. “We don’t—but we’ll have to think about all this later. Today we got something else to take care of.”

  “Matthew’s kid,” James said.

  “If it is Matthew’s,” Thomas said. “Pa, what do we do if it is?”

  “I don’t know yet, Thomas,” Shaye said. “I’m just trying to go one step at a time.”

  “Well,” Thomas said, “I wanna talk to this girl. I wanna see this child.”

  “So do I,” James said.

  “You both will,” Shaye said, “but we’ll do it her way—for now.”

  “What if it ain’t her way?” James asked. “What if she’s doin’ this because the sheriff’s tellin’ her to?”

  “I’ll find out, James,” Shaye said. “I’ll know a lot more after this afternoon.”

  The waiter came with their breakfast and they stopped talking and ate in silence, each man alone in his thoughts.

  “Are you sure this is the right thing to do?” Marion Cotton asked her husband that morning.

  “I don’t see what else there is to do,” Cotton said. “Belinda wants to see Shaye.”

  “But we’ve told her she can stay here with us.”

  “If Shaye is the boy’s grandfather, he has a right to know and to see him, don’t you think?”

  “I suppose so,” she said. “I’ve just come to love that little boy so much.”

  Cotton reached across the table and covered her hand with his.

  “I know, honey. I know.”

  Dan Shaye and his sons killed the morning just sitting on chairs out in front of their hotel. Around eleven thirty-five Shaye got to his feet.

  “Might as well mosey over to the sheriff’s office,” he said. “You boys going to wait right here?”

  “Sure, Pa,” James said.

  “And you going to stay out of trouble?”

  “Yes, Pa,” Thomas said.

  “Good. I’ll be back soon.”

  They watched him cross the street and walk toward the sheriff’s office.

  “Are we gonna sit right here?” James asked.

  “You bet we are,” Thomas said. “We can’t get into trouble doin’ that…can we?”

  25

  As Shaye approached the sheriff’s office, the door opened and Sheriff Cotton stepped out.

  “Right on time, Shaye,” the lawman said.

  “Actually, I’m a little early.”

  “Five minutes or so,” Cotton said. “I was just stepping outside to wait for you.”

  “Well, I’m here,” Shaye said. “Can we go?’

  “Sure,” Cotton said. “This way.”

  “I know which way you live,” Shaye said and the two men started walking north.

  “Belinda is very nervous about meeting you, Shaye,” Cotton said. “I hope you’ll be…considerate.”

  “I’m not here to scare her, Sheriff,” Shaye said. “I’m just here to find out the truth.”

  “Well, Belinda’s no liar—if that’s what you’re implying.”

  “I’m not implying anything,” Shaye said. “I’m just saying…Don’t worry. I’m not going to attack her.”

  “Well, I’ll be there while you talk to her, so I know you won’t,” Cotton said.

  “What about your wife?”

  “She’ll stay with the boy.”

  “I want to see him too.”

  “In time, you will. Okay, here’s my house.”

  They walked to the front door of the small one-story house. From the porch Shaye could see the schoolhouse James had told him about.

  Cotton opened the door and allowed Shaye to precede him into the house. He showed him into a modestly furnished living room. From past experience Shaye knew that the house usually came with the job.

  “Wait here and I’ll fetch Belinda.”

  Shaye nodded and Cotton left the room. He surprised himself by feeling nervous about meeting the girl. Or maybe he was more nervous about possibly having a grandson.

  Moments later Cotton came back into the room leading a young woman. Shaye saw immediately that she was the kind of woman a young man would find hard to resist. Or possibly even an old man. She was extremely lively, with long black hair, pale skin, and the kind of body he had seen on many young women in saloons, only she was wearing a plain gingham dress, not a revealing peasant blouse or gown.

  “Dan Shaye,” Riley Cotton said, “meet Belinda Davis. Belinda, this is Daniel Shaye.”

  “Belinda,” Shaye said, removing his hat. “It’s nice to meet you. I came in response to your letter.”

  “Mr. Shaye,” she said very formally, “it’s very nice to meet you.”

  She put out her hand and he shook it gently.

  “I’m sorry it took so long to get here,” Shaye said, “but your letter didn’t reach us until—”

  “I understand,” she said, cutting him off. “I knew sending you that letter was a long shot. I’m just glad it finally reached you.”

  “Why don’t we all sit down?” Sheriff Cotton suggested.

  “Actually, Riley,” Belinda said, “I’d love to have some coffee. Perhaps Mr. Shaye would as well?”

  “But…Marion is with Little Matt.”

  Belinda smiled at him and said, “I thought maybe…well, could you get it…please?”

  “Well…” The lawman looked confused. “All right.”

  From the looks of things, Belinda had Sheriff Cotton wrapped around her little finger. And from the look on Cotton’s face, he didn’t exactly think of her as a daughter.

  She watched as Cotton left the living room to go to the kitchen, then turned back to Shaye with her arms folded across her breasts.

  “You pretty much get your way here, don’t you?” Shaye asked.

  “They’re nice people,” Belinda said, “but they can’t give me what I want…what I need.”

  “And I can?”

  “You and your sons, yes.”

  “We don’t have much money—”

  “I’m not looking for money, Mr. Shaye,” Belinda said.

  “Then what is it?”

  “I’m looking for protection.”

  “Protection? From who?”

  “Do you know a man named Jeb Collier?”

  “Collier?” Shaye thought for a moment. “No, can’t say I do.”

  “He’s an outlaw,” Belinda said. “He also thinks he’s my son’s father.”

  “And you need protection from him?” Shaye asked. “What about the sheriff?”

  “The sheriff and his wife have been wonderful to us,” she said, “but there’s no way he’d be able to handle Jeb and his gang.”

  “Gang? How big a gang?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Four, maybe more. Jeb’s brother Ben, Jeb’s longtime friend Clark Wilson. Maybe one or two others.”

  “Well, if you’re worried they’re going to come to town, that would be the sheriff’s job—”

  “The sheriff isn’t related to my son,” Belinda said. “You are. You’re his grandfather.”

  “Well…that remains to be seen,” Shaye said. “I have to tell you, I have a hard time believing my son Matthew and you…well, especially after meeting you—”

  “You don’t think I was good enough for your son?” she demanded.

  “Don’t get all riled up,” Shaye said. “Good’s got nothing to do with it. I think my son was a little too…I don’t think he could have handled a woman like you.”

  “Matthew was a handsome young man, Mr. Shaye.”

  “That may be,” Shaye said, “but I don’t think he could have carried on a…relationship with a woman without me or one of h
is brothers knowing about it.”

  Shaye could smell coffee from the kitchen and figured the sheriff would be returning any minute.

  “What did you want to tell me that you didn’t want the sheriff to hear?” he asked.

  “I just don’t want the sheriff thinking he’s going to protect me and Little Matt,” she said. “Jeb and his gang would kill him. I don’t want to be the cause of Marion becoming a widow.”

  “The sheriff’s got deputies—”

  “Mr. Shaye,” Belinda said, “you’ve been in this town long enough to get the feel of it. This is Texas, yes, but this is not the Wild West. This town is too damned civilized to withstand Jeb Collier and his men.”

  “What do you want my sons and I to do, Belinda?” he asked. “Stand up to them when they come here? Or take you away before they arrive?”

  “Jeb Collier has spent the last two years in Yuma Prison,” she told him. “By my reckoning, he either got out a few weeks ago or he’ll get out a few weeks from now. I’m not dead sure he’ll come here, but I believe he will. He believes that I’m his and that my son is his. I’m here to tell you that neither is true.”

  “Did you love my son, Belinda?”

  “I can’t say that I did, Mr. Shaye,” she said. “I’m trying to be honest with you here. I liked Matthew and we…we have a son together.”

  “Let’s say for a moment that’s true,” Shaye said. “Did Matthew know you were pregnant?”

  “No, I never told him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Truthfully, I thought Jeb would kill him.”

  “Jeb knew you were pregnant?”

  “He found out just before he went to prison.”

  “Yuma is a long way from here,” Shaye said. “How did he end up there instead of, say, Huntsville?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “He was wanted in Arizona for something, I don’t know what, but I know he got two years.”

  “Belinda…this…relationship you had with my son, was it in Epitaph? Because I don’t remember you from there and I don’t remember anyone named Collier and his gang being there.”

  “You don’t believe me,” she said.

  He didn’t have time to answer because the sheriff came in carrying some cups and a pot precariously on a tray.

  “I’m not used to this, so I’m hoping I don’t drop it,” Cotton said.

  “I’ll take it, Riley,” she said, grabbing the tray from him with practiced hands. Shaye noticed the change in her demeanor as she once again showed more refinement than she had during their conversation. Her no-nonsense attitude disappeared.