13
The guard opened the door to allow Jeb Collier to leave Yuma Prison.
“Thanks,” Jeb said.
“I got three months,” the guard said.
“What?”
“The guards are all bettin’ on when we’ll see you in here again. I got three months. I mean, I figure you gotta get caught, then tried, and then they’ll ship you over here…yeah, three months is about right.”
“You got it wrong, Lane,” Jeb said. “I ain’t never comin’ back here.”
“Well,” Lane said, “don’t tell me you’re goin’ straight?”
“Straight?” Jeb frowned, as if he didn’t know what that word meant.
“Yeah,” Lane said, scratching his grizzled gray cheek, “like I figured. I been a prison guard for a lot of years…nigh on to thirty, I think, here and other prisons, and you’re the worst I’ve seen.”
Jeb looked back at the prison, and then at Lane. “I been in worse places, Lane.”
“You got this place wired, that’s for sure,” Lane said. “Everybody doin’ your work for you…guards workin’ for you…”
“Not you, though, huh?”
“No,” Lane said, “not me. Like I tol’ you. I been at this too long. You’ll be back, Jeb.”
“I don’t think so, Lane.”
Lane laughed.
“I’ll keep your cell clean.”
Jeb tried to think of a good response, but then decided that the best response would simply be to never return there.
He walked out the door.
Ben Collier watched as his brother walked out the front gate of Yuma Prison, a free man after two years.
“There he is,” Clark Wilson said.
“I see him,” Ben said.
Wilson and Dave Roberts exchanged a glance, but remained silent. They were both glad to see Jeb Collier leaving Yuma Prison. The past two years had been lean ones under Ben Collier. Jeb was always the brains of the two brothers.
However, Ben was the mean one, so they kept quiet.
Ben Collier moved forward to meet his brother with open arms.
“Hey, Ben!”
Jeb grabbed his larger, though younger, brother and hugged him tightly. Ben put his older brother in a bear hug and lifted him off his feet.
“Jesus, you’re killin’ me!” Jeb shouted. “Put me down, you big ox.”
Ben put Jeb back on his feet and backed away.
“I’m just so damn glad to see you, Jeb.”
Jeb looked past his brother to where Roberts and Wilson were standing with four horses.
“Boys,” he said.
“Boss,” Wilson said. Roberts nodded.
“You got my gun?”
“Right here.” Ben turned. “Dave.”
Roberts moved to one of the horse and fetched a gun belt from the saddlebags. He handed it to Ben, who turned and presented it to his brother.
Jeb took the gun belt and strapped it on.
“You don’t know how naked I’ve felt without this,” he said, adjusting it on his hip.
“You think you should be puttin’ that on right in front of the prison?” Ben asked.
“Why not?” Jeb asked. “I’m out, ain’t I? I’m a free man.”
“Why don’t we get away from here before they change their minds?” Ben asked.
Jeb smiled and patted Ben on the shoulder.
“That’s not such a bad idea, brother,” he said. “I’ve also been itchin’ to be on a horse again.”
Wilson walked the fourth horse over to Jeb.
“This horse any good?” he asked.
“I picked it out myself,” Ben said.
“Clark?” Jeb asked, looking at Wilson.
“It’s a good animal, boss.”
Jeb nodded. Wilson was a much better judge of horseflesh than his brother Ben was.
“Okay, then,” Jeb said. “Let’s ride.”
They rode for half a day and then camped, still in Arizona.
“Sorry we don’t got better than beans for ya, Jeb,” Ben said.
“Hey,” Jeb said, “I’m eatin’ them under the open sky. This is the best meal I’ve had in two years.”
“Well,” Clark Wilson said, reaching into his saddlebag, “you probably ain’t had none of this in two years.”
He came out with a bottle of whiskey.
Jeb’s eyes lit up. “Give that here.”
“It ain’t the best stuff—” Wilson started, handing it over.
“It’s whiskey,” Jeb said. “That’s all that matters.”
He uncorked the bottle, lifted it to his lips, and took several big swallows. The rotgut burned its way down to his stomach, where it started a fire.
“Goddamn!” he said, lowering the bottle, his eyes watering. “That was good. So was them beans.”
He stoppered the bottle and passed it back to Wilson.
“Now,” he said, “tell me about Belinda.”
“Aw, Jeb,” Ben said, “why you wanna bother with her—”
“You know where she is, don’t you?” Jeb asked. “Ben, you’re supposed to know where she is.”
“We know where she is, Jeb,” Wilson said.
“And the kid?” Jeb asked. “She’s got the kid?”
“She’s got ’im,” Ben said.
“Him? It’s a boy, right?”
“It’s a boy.”
“What’d she name him?”
“We don’t know that,” Ben said.
“That’s okay,” Jeb said. “We’ll find out.”
“How we gonna do that, Jeb?” Ben asked.
“Easy,” Jeb said. “We’re gonna ask her.”
Later, when Ben and Dave Roberts were asleep, Jeb and Clark Wilson sat around the fire together.
“We’re sure glad you’re out, Jeb,” Wilson said.
“You been givin’ Ben a hard time, Clark?” Jeb asked.
“No,” Wilson said. “We did like you wanted, made him think he was in charge, but Jeb…he was always makin’ the wrong decision, ya know?”
“I know, Clark,” Jeb said, “but I knew I could count on you to keep him from gettin’ killed.”
“Believe me, there were times we all almost got killed.”
“Well, things’ll change now that I’m out.”
“Maybe we can make some money?”
“We’re gonna make plenty of money.”
“You been makin’ plans while you was inside?”
“Plenty of plans.”
“What’re we gonna hit first? A bank? A train?”
“First,” Jeb said, “we’re gonna go and see Belinda.”
Wilson shook his head. “Jeb.”
“This is somethin’ I gotta do, Clark,” Jeb said. “Where is she?”
“A town called Pearl River Junction,” Wilson said, “in Texas.”
“So that’s where we’re headed,” Jeb said. “Pearl River Junction.”
Wilson poured himself another cup of coffee and leaned back.
“What?”
“We need money, Jeb,” Wilson said. “We’re broke.”
“Broke?”
“All we got,” Wilson said, “is what you got in your pocket.”
Which wasn’t much. They’d given him a few coins when he left Yuma and the clothes he’d been wearing when he first arrived.
“Okay, Clark,” Jeb said. “Okay. Does Pearl River Junction have a bank?”
“It does.”
“Then we’ll kill two birds with one stone,” Jeb said. “We’ll go there and see Belinda and we’ll hit the bank.”
“That’s okay,” Wilson said, “but we’re gonna need some money to get there.”
“Clark,” Jeb asked. “you got somethin’ in mind, don’t ya?”
“Yep,” Wilson said, “I got somethin’ in mind.”
“Okay, then,” Jeb said, “pour me some more coffee and tell me what you got.”