Pearl River Junction: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

9

The four men were on the run, but they weren’t wanted in Wyoming. They’d come to Winchester to hide out for a while, but this opportunity was too good to pass up.

“I never heard of them,” Paul Brocco said with a shrug.

“That’s because you’re stupid, Paul,” George Griffiths said.

Paul sniffed, the way he always did when one of the other three men called him stupid.

“Don’t gotta be smart to hear a name,” he argued. “I ain’t never heard of no Dan Shayne.”

“It’s Shaye, you moron,” Lem Sanders said. “Dan Shaye and his two sons. They cleaned up the Langer gang.”

“All of ’em,” the fourth man, Ray Dolner, added. “I heard the pa, he got Aaron, and the oldest son, he got Ethan.”

“Thomas,” Griffiths said, “Thomas Shaye. I hear he’s pretty good with that handgun.”

“And the other one?” Paul asked. “He looks real young. Can’t be all that tough.”

“I tell you what, Paul,” Griffiths said. “You can have the young one.”

“Have him?” Paul asked. “For what?”

Dolner turned to face the others, who closed ranks so they couldn’t easily be overheard.

“We’re gonna take Shaye and his boys, are we?” he asked.

“Ain’t they lawmen?” Sanders asked.

“I don’t see no badges on them,” Griffiths said. “I think they was lawmen, but they ain’t no more.”

“We come here to lie low, George,” Dolner said.

“I know that, Ray,” Griffiths said, “but we didn’t know they was here. We take ’em fair and square and we’re gonna have big reputations. A fair fight’s a fair fight.”

“You wanna take ’em fair?” Dolner asked.

“Hell, why not?” Griffiths asked. “There’s four of us and three of them.”

“That don’t sound fair,” Paul said.

“Shut up, Paul,” the other three men said.

Brocco fell silent and pouted.

“Where do we do it?” Dolner asked. “In here?”

“No,” Griffiths said. “That barkeep’s got a shotgun behind the bar for sure. You see the way he was eyein’ us?”

“Outside, then,” Sanders said.

“Yeah,” Griffiths said. “Outside.”

“When?” Dolner asked.

“No time like the present,” Griffiths said. “We finish our beers and wait outside. They gotta come out sooner or later.”

“Okay, then,” Dolner said.

“Fine with me,” Sanders said.

“Me too,” Paul chimed in.

“Shut up, Paul!” they all said.

Abner carried three fresh mugs of beer over to the table the Shayes were seated at.

“Fresh one,” he said.

“We ain’t done with these—” Thomas said, but Abner shushed him by slamming the mugs down on the table.

“Four men came in,” he said. “They look like bad ones and they was interested in you.”

With that he collected the other half-finished beers and took them back to the bar with him.

“Pa?” James asked.

“I saw them when they came in,” Shaye said. “They’re a wrong bunch, all right. See? This is why we stay out at the ranch most of the time.”

“You think they know who we are?” James asked.

“If they didn’t know, they heard it from somebody,” Thomas said.

“Likely,” Shaye said.

“What do we do?” James asked. “They’re gonna be waitin’ outside, ain’t they?”

“Likely,” Shaye said again.

“I could go out the back way and get the sheriff,” James said.

“That might work,” Thomas said, “except for one thing.”

“What’s that?” Shaye asked.

“Ain’t no back way out of here, Pa.”