Pearl River Junction

by Robert J. Randisi

  “I’m sure he was,” Shaye said. “Let’s go, boys.”

  Sheriff Cotton stopped into the telegraph office and said to the clerk, “Hey, Beau.”

  “Mornin’, Sheriff.”

  “You had a man in here this morning sending a telegram,” the lawman said.

  “Three,” Beau said, “he sent three.”

  “Where to?”

  “I ain’t supposed to say, Sheriff.”

  “You can tell me, Beau,” Cotton said. “I’m the law.”

  “Well…I guess you’re right.”

  The clerk turned and retrieved the three handwritten slips that Shaye had written out.

  “One to the sheriff of Epitaph, one to a lawman in New Mexico, and another to a lawman in Arizona, near Yuma.

  “Did he get any replies?”

  “One.”

  “What did that say?”

  “I can tell you that by heart,” Beau said, “’cause I remember. It was something about a feller who was in Yuma for two years and just got out last month. What was his name?”

  “Collier?” the sheriff asked. “Jeb Collier?”

  “That’s the one,” Beau said. “How’d you know that?”

  Cotton smiled.

  “Lucky guess.”

  The young clerk laughed and said, “Must be lucky guesses like that’s the reason you’re the sheriff.”

  “Yep,” Cotton said, “must be. Thanks, Beau.”

  “Glad to help, Sheriff,” the clerk said, “but, uh, you won’t tell nobody where you got the information, right?”

  “Don’t worry,” Cotton said, “it’ll be our secret, Beau.”

  32

  Jeb Collier stared across the table at his brother Ben, who was fidgeting in his chair.

  “Ben,” he said, “go to the bar and get us four more beers.”

  “Anythin’s better than just sittin’ here,” Ben said.

  As Ben left, Jeb said to Clark Wilson, “If he don’t sit still, I’m gonna shoot him.”

  “Ben got like that when you got put away, Jeb,” Wilson said. “Antsy. He can’t never sit still. Maybe it’ll change now that you’re back.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “So what’re we doin’ here?” Wilson asked.

  They were about a week out of Pearl River Junction in a Texas town called Waco.

  “We’re waitin’,” Jeb said.

  “For what?”

  “We takin’ the bank here too?” Dave Roberts asked.

  “No,” Jeb said, “we ain’t. You got any money left from the last two jobs we pulled, Dave?”

  Roberts hesitated, then said, “Some.”

  “You’re gonna have to learn not to spend it all on whores and booze so fast,” Jeb said.

  “And gamblin’,” Wilson said.

  “I can spend my money on what I want,” Roberts said grudgingly.

  “I ain’t sayin’ you can’t,” Jeb said, “just not so damn fast. You and my brother go through your money so fast…we ain’t gonna pull a job every week, ya know?”

  Ben came back with four beers, spilled a little out of each of them as he put them down.

  “What’re ya talkin’ about?” he asked.

  “Spendin’ money,” Wilson said. “And I asked your brother what we’re doin’ here.”

  “What are we doin’ here?” Ben asked.

  “He says waitin’.”

  “Waitin’ for what?”

  “And now you’re all caught up, Ben,” Wilson said.

  “Just shut up and listen, all of you,” Jeb said. “The last town we stopped in I sent a telegram.”

  “When’d you have time to do that?” Ben asked.

  “When you were spending the last of your money on whores and booze,” Jeb said.

  “And gamblin’,” Wilson added. He turned his attention to Jeb. “Who’d you send a telegram to?”

  “Vic Delay.” He pronounced the name Dee-lay.

  “Delay?” Wilson asked. “He’s a cold-blooded killer. Why’d you contact him?”

  “I just want a little insurance when we go into Pearl River Junction after Belinda and my kid,” Jeb said. “Struck me that the town—and the local law—might not take too kindly to us grabbin’ a little kid and a woman.”

  “We don’t know what kind of law they got there,” Wilson said.

  “All the more reason to have some insurance.”

  “Vic Delay,” Wilson said, again, shaking his head.

  “Vic’s okay,” Ben said. “I like Vic.”

  “And some of his boys,” Jeb said. He was ignoring Ben’s remark and responding to Wilson’s.

  “Jesus.”

  “Hey,” Jeb said, sitting forward in his chair, “if the Pearl River Junction bank looks good, we’ll probably take it while we’re there. Vic and his men will come in handy.”

  “I never understood why you became friends with him,” Wilson said. “We’re thieves, not killers. That’s why you only got two years in Yuma, ’cause we never killed anybody during a job.”

  “I killed people,” Ben said. “I killed plenty of people.”

  Jeb and Wilson continued to ignore Ben, as did Dave Roberts, only he seemed to be ignoring everybody. He wasn’t included in any decisions and was never asked any questions or opinion, so he generally just sort of wandered off in his head until his name was called.

  “Dave!” Jeb said.

  “Yeah? Huh?”

  “Go out in the street and watch for Delay and his men,” Jeb said. “Show ’em in here when they get here.”

  “Sure, Jeb.”

  “Ben, go with him,” Jeb said. “You’re drivin’ me crazy in here.”

  “What am I doin’?” Ben complained.

  “You can’t sit still, damn it!” Jeb said. “You’re makin’ me feel like I’m in a stagecoach.”

  “Aw, Jeb—”

  “Get up and git.”

  Both men stood up and walked out the batwing doors of the little saloon. Jeb picked it because there was no music, no gambling, and no women.

  “They’re probably gonna end up in another saloon,” Wilson said, “or a whorehouse.”

  “Between ’em,” Jeb said, “they ain’t got the price of one whore.”

  “Jeb, you sure about Vic Delay?”

  “I’m sure, Clark,” Jeb Collier said. “A little bit of insurance never hurt nobody.”

  33

  Vic Delay didn’t like Jeb Collier, but he saw in Jeb something that Collier didn’t even see in himself: a killer. In that way he felt that he and Jeb Collier were kindred spirits. So when he got the telegram from Jeb asking him to meet him in Waco, he agreed.

  Delay knew a lot of killers, but in none of them did he sense what he did in Jeb Collier and he wanted to be there the day it came out.

  “You know what this fella Delay looks like?” Dave Roberts asked Ben when they were outside.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Roberts waited for Ben to elaborate. When Ben didn’t, Roberts asked, “So, what does he look like?”

  “He’s scary-lookin’,” Ben said.

  “Whataya mean, scary-lookin’?”

  Ben shuddered.

  “You’ll know when you see him,” he said. “It’s somethin’ in his eyes.”

  “How can somebody’s eyes be scary?”

  “Don’t take my word for it,” Ben said. “Take a look for yourself.” Ben pushed off the pole he’d been leaning against. “Here he comes now.”

  Riding into Waco, down the main street, Delay spotted Ben Collier, who he disliked even more than his brother—but Ben had no redeeming qualities to make up for it. Delay thought Ben Collier was a waste of air and was surprised and disappointed that somebody hadn’t killed him by now.

  “That looks like the brother,” Lou Tanner said.

  “Yeah.” Tanner was Delay’s right hand and had been riding with him much longer than the other two men, Roy Leslie and Bill Samms.

  “I could put a bullet into him from here,” T
anner offered, knowing how Delay felt about Ben Collier.

  “Forget it,” Delay said. “Some day his own brother will probably do it.”

  The four men reined in their horses in front of Ben Collier.

  “Jeb’s in this little saloon, Mr. Delay,” Ben said, nervously.

  “Who’s this?” Delay asked, indicating Roberts.

  “Uh, this is Dave Roberts.”

  Delay stared at Roberts until the other man looked away, then dismounted, followed by his men.

  “Want us to take care of your horses, Mr. Delay?” Ben asked.

  “No,” Delay said, “leave ’em. We don’t know if we’re stayin’, do we?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “But I tell you what,” Delay said, handing Ben his horse’s reins. “You can stay out here and watch ’em for us.”

  “Sure, Mr. Delay, sure,” Ben said.

  Delay turned and walked into the saloon, followed by Tanner and the other two men.

  Ben turned to Dave Roberts and looked at him expectantly.

  “Jesus,” the other man said.

  “I told you.”

  “Them’s are the deadest eyes I ever seen,” Roberts said. “He’d just as soon kill ya as look at ya.”

  “Yeah,” Ben said. “That’s why I don’t mind stayin’ out here and watchin’ his horse.”

  “Me neither.”

  Jeb Collier saw Vic Delay as soon as he entered the saloon, followed by Lou Tanner and two men he didn’t know. He stood up as the man approached, because you never knew what to expect from a killer like Delay.

  “Vic,” he said.

  “Jeb,” Delay said.

  “Beer?”

  “Sure.”

  “Clark?” Jeb said. “Why don’t you get Vic a beer and then take his men over to the bar. Hello, Tanner.”

  “Jeb,” Lou Tanner said.

  “Lou,” Delay said, “take the boys over to the bar with Wilson.”

  “Sure, Vic.”

  Wilson brought a beer back to the table for Delay, another for Jeb, and then went to join Delay’s boys at the bar.

  “So,” Delay asked Collier, “when did you get out?”

  “A few weeks ago.”

  “Do anything worthwhile since then?”

  Jeb Collier named the two banks he and his men had hit since his release from Yuma.

  “Those were you?” Delay asked. “You didn’t waste any time.”

  “I needed some traveling money.”

  “To travel where?”

  “Pearl River Junction.”

  Vic Delay drank some beer and said, “Never heard of it. What’s there? A bank?”

  “They got a bank, sure,” Collier said, “but I’m headed there for another reason.”

  “Like what?”

  Jeb hesitated then asked, “You got any kids, Vic?”

  “No,” Delay said with a laugh. “What would I do with a kid?”

  “Well, I might have one.”

  “Might?” Delay asked. “You mean you don’t know?”

  “That’s what I’m goin’ to Pearl River Junction to find out.”

  Delay sat back in his chair.

  “That’s why you asked me to meet you here?” he asked. “To go there with you?”

  “Basically, yeah.”

  “You know, Jeb,” Delay said, “there ain’t a lot of things I do that ain’t for money.”

  “I ain’t askin’ for a favor, Vic,” Jeb said. “There’s money there.”

  “How much?”

  “I don’t know,” Jeb said, “but there’s a bank, for sure. Once I’m done with my business there, we’ll hit the bank and leave town.”

  “You’re gonna pick up your kid?”

  “I’m gonna talk to my gal, see if the kid she had while I was in Yuma is mine, and then…”

  “And then what?”

  “And then I don’t know,” Jeb said. “I’ll have to make up my mind once I know for sure.”

  “Does this gal have a husband you’re gonna have to deal with?”

  “I don’t know,” Jeb said. “For all I know, we may have to deal with the whole town.”

  “The law?”

  “That too.”

  Delay thought about it, then said, “Okay, it sounds like it might be interesting…might be fun.”

  Jeb Collier knew what Vic Delay thought of as fun. To Delay “fun” and “killing” usually had the same meaning.

  “Yeah,” he agreed, “it might be.”

  34

  Shaye proposed to his sons that they go to the nearest saloon and discuss the events of the afternoon. They were all for it. They stopped into one they hadn’t been to before called the Junction Saloon.

  It was still early in the day, so there were not many other men in the place. Still, they chose to stand at the bar rather than take a table.

  “All right,” Shaye said once they all had a beer in hand, “let’s hear it.”

  “She’s very pretty,” James said.

  His father and brother stared at him.

  “Belinda, I mean,” James added. “Very pretty, don’t you think?”

  “That was fairly obvious, James,” Thomas said, “but that’s not what we’re supposed to be talkin’ about.”

  “James,” Shaye said, “what did you think of the boy?”

  “Well,” James said slowly, “just from lookin’ at him, I think he’s Matthew’s son.”

  “Thomas?” Shaye asked.

  “I disagree,” Thomas said, “and I think James has been influenced by Belinda Davis bein’ so pretty.”

  “I have not.”

  “Come on, James,” Thomas said, “if your tongue had been out any farther, you would have stepped on it.”

  “And you didn’t think she was good-lookin’?” James demanded.

  “Of course she’s good-lookin’, James,” Thomas said, “but that’s not the point.”

  “Thomas is right, James,” Shaye said. “Our concern is the boy, not his mother.”

  “But if Matthew is the father,” James said, “wouldn’t he want us to help the mother as well as the boy?”

  “He probably would,” Shaye said.

  “So we’re back where we started,” Thomas said. “Is this Matthew’s son?”

  “I say yes,” James said.

  “I say no,” Thomas replied. “What about you, Pa?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Pa,” Thomas said, “if the Collier gang gets here and we haven’t decided, what will we do? Stand up to them for her? Even though she might not be the mother of Matthew’s son?”

  “I think,” Shaye said, “if the Collier gang arrives while we’re still here and the sheriff needs help, we should probably give it to him.”

  “It’s not our fight, Pa,” Thomas said.

  “It is if the boy is our blood,” James said. “Our nephew, Pa’s grandson.”

  “It’s our fight if anyone needs help, isn’t it, Thomas?” Shaye asked.

  “It was when we were wearing badges, Pa,” Thomas said. “I’m not so sure it is now.”

  “What about if she’s just a woman who needs help?” James asked.

  “I’m not so sure she’d need help against any man,” Thomas said. “She’ll probably be able to handle Jeb Collier as easily as she has the sheriff or as easily as she would you, James.”

  “Just because I think she’s pretty doesn’t mean—”

  “That’s enough about the girl,” Shaye said, interrupting. “I need time to think, boys, to decide what to do.”

  “I think we should leave town,” Thomas said. “Tomorrow…or even now.”

  “I think we should stay,” James said.

  “I know where you both stand,” Shaye said. “I’ll let you know what I decide to do. The two of you should make up your own minds.”

  “I’m gonna take a walk,” Thomas said, “and do some thinkin’. I’ll see you both back at the hotel.”

  With that he left the saloon, the batw
ing doors flapping in his wake.

  “What’s he got against the girl, Pa?”

  “She’s manipulative, James,” Shaye said.

  “Maybe not, Pa,” James said. “Maybe you’re wrong about her.”

  “I don’t think so, James,” Shaye said, “but like I said, you and your brother have to make up your own minds.”

  “I understand, Pa,” James said. “I guess I should take a walk and do some thinkin’ of my own.”

  “I’ll see you at the hotel,” Shaye said. “I’m going to have another beer.”

  James passed through the batwing doors with much less force than his brother had.

  Just outside the saloon James ran into Sheriff Cotton.

  “Where’s your pa?” the lawman asked.

  “Inside.”

  “And your brother?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “And where are you off to?”

  “Just takin’ a walk.”

  “Can I ask what you decided?”

  “We haven’t decided anything yet, Sheriff,” James said. “We’re still thinkin’ it over.”

  “I see. Well, I think I’ll go in and see your pa.”

  James nodded and walked away as the sheriff entered the saloon.

  Shaye saw the lawman enter and called the bartender over.

  “A beer for the sheriff.”

  “Comin’ up.”

  Cotton joined Shaye at the bar.

  “I saw your youngest boy outside,” he said. “Sorry I missed you all at my house.”

  “That’s okay.”

  The barman set a beer on the bar and Cotton picked it up.

  “What did your boys think of Belinda?”

  “They have different opinions. How about your wife?”

  “She’s afraid Belinda will leave and take Little Matt away with her,” Cotton said.

  “So you’ll both just let her get away with playing you along all this time?” Shaye asked.

  “Maybe she just did it to feel safe,” Cotton said, “but then, she doesn’t seem to think I can handle Jeb Collier.”

  “And his gang,” Shaye reminded him.

  “Yeah,” Cotton said, taking a drink from his mug. “And maybe she just needed a woman to take care of the boy, because she couldn’t.”

  “And now your wife loves him.”

  Cotton wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “We both do, actually.”

  “So I guess we all have some thinking to do on the subject, don’t we?” Shaye asked.