Pearl River Junction: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

35

Eventually, Shaye and Cotton moved to a table in the back and the saloon began to fill up.

“I heard about Collier,” Cotton said at one point.

“I thought you might check with the telegraph clerk.”

“Why’d you think that?” the sheriff asked.

“It’s what I would have done.”

“How many men do you think he’s coming here with?”

“I guess that would depend on how badly he wants Belinda and the boy,” Shaye said. “And if I was him, I’d plan on taking the bank too.”

Cotton rubbed his temples.

“All I’ve got are two young deputies.”

“I’ve only seen one.”

“The other one is part-time.”

“And how much experience have you had with someone like Jeb Collier?” Shaye asked.

“Not much,” Cotton said. “In fact, Belinda may be right about me. I may not be able to handle him.”

Shaye shook his head.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Cotton said. “I’m not going to ask you and your boys to stay and help me. I mean, if you’re convinced that Little Matt is not your grandson, you have no reason to stay.”

“I haven’t made my mind up about that yet.”

“And your sons?”

“They have to make up their own minds.”

Cotton thought a moment, then asked, “Do you think they’d hire on as deputies?”

“Maybe,” Shaye said. “I can’t speak for them.”

“Are they both capable?”

“Very,” Shaye said. “Thomas is the more capable of the two. He’s older, a bit wiser, very good with a gun. He reminds me of me when I was younger.”

“And James?”

“James is more like his mother,” Shaye said. “She had hopes that he’d make something of himself—a doctor, a lawyer.”

“Not a deputy?”

“No. Not a lawman, like his father.”

“Do you miss it?” Cotton asked. “Wearing a badge?”

“That’s something I’m not sure about as well,” Shaye said. “You see? I’ve got a lot of thinking to do.”

“I can imagine.”

“But first,” Shaye said, “there’s the matter of helping you against Jeb Collier and his men.”

“You’d do that? But why?”

Shaye shrugged.

“Once he’s taken care of, my sons and I can take our time making up our minds about the boy,” Shaye said. “This way we’re under the gun—and I hate being under the gun.”