Pearl River Junction: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

3

“Grandson?” Thomas asked, aghast.

“Your nephew.”

“Nephew?” James asked, gaping.

Shaye nodded and said, “Little Matt.”

“Pa,” Thomas said, “what are you talkin’ about?”

“This girl,” Shaye said, “claims that she had Matthew’s baby.”

Thomas and James were both stunned. Then Thomas asked, “But…when?”

“She says the boy is two years old.”

They had left Epitaph for good about two years ago. The girl could have gotten pregnant before they left, but…

“But Pa…Matthew?” Thomas asked. “I don’t think Matthew was ever with a girl.”

“James?” Pa asked.

James blushed and said, “Pa, I don’t know. He never told me anything about bein’ with a girl, but…”

“But he did know a girl by this name?’

“Well, yeah…I knew her too, sort of, but…I never thought he…he did anything with her.”

“Why didn’t I know her?” Thomas asked. “Why didn’t I know he was sweet on a girl?”

“No offense, big brother, but Matthew tended to talk to me a little more than he did to you.”

Thomas didn’t argue. More than once he’d lamented the fact that he had not spent more time with Matthew while he was alive.

“James, what kind of girl was she?”

“I don’t know…a nice girl, I guess…”

“A nice girl who got pregnant?”

“I told you, Pa,” James said. “I didn’t know her that well.”

“The question is,” Thomas said, “how well did Matthew know her?”

“Well,” Shaye said, refolding the letter, “I guess we’re not going to get the answer to that question here.”

“You gonna write to her?” James asked.

“This letter was sent three months ago,” Shaye said. “There’s no telling if she’s even still in Pearl River Junction.”

“So are we going to go there?” Thomas asked.

“We’re going to have to send some telegrams first,” Shaye said. “Check the situation out. At least find out if she’s still there.”

“And then what?” James asked.

“She can’t be tellin’ the truth, Pa,” Thomas said. “Not about Matthew.”

“We’ll have to see, Thomas,” Shaye said. “If this girl’s boy in Matthew’s son, we’re going to have to help her.”

“And if it’s not?”

“We’ll see,” Shaye said. He stood up. “I’m going to make supper tonight. I want you boys to go to the barn and take that wire off the buckboard and store it in a corner.”

“Off the buckboard?” Thomas asked. “I thought we were gonna start stringin’ it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow we’re going to town to send those telegrams.”

“We can start on the wire while you do that, Pa,” James said.

“No,” Shaye said. “I don’t want to start on the wire if we’re going to end up leaving town. Let’s find out what we’re doing first.”

“But Pa—” James started, only to be cut off by Thomas.

“Okay, Pa,” he said, standing up, “you’re the boss. Come on, James.”

James opened his mouth to say something, but Thomas grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him toward the door.

“I should have supper ready by the time you’re through,” Shaye said.

“Fine,” Thomas said and yanked James out the door with him.

“What’re you doin’?” James asked as Thomas released his hold on him.

“You’re the one who doesn’t want to be a rancher,” Thomas said. “We could be headin’ for Pearl River Junction in a couple of days instead of stringin’ wire.”

“But I thought you wanted to get started—”

“I don’t want to do this back-breakin’ work any more than you do, James,” Thomas said.

“But…but you act like you do.”

“That’s for Pa’s sake.”

“So you wanna go back to bein’ a lawman?”

“I want to get back on the trail and see what happens,” Thomas said. “Once Pa gets back on a horse and away from here, maybe he’ll have a change of heart.”

“And wanna wear a badge again?” As they headed for the barn, James trotted to keep up with Thomas, whose legs were longer.

“A badge…maybe he’ll just want to start man hunting again.”

“You mean…like bounty huntin’?”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know if I wanna be a bounty man, Thomas.”

“James,” Thomas said as they reached the barn and stopped in front of the buckboard filled with barbed wire, “anythin’s better than this.”

In the house Shaye threw together a quick meal, frying up some salted meat and opening some cans he’d bought that day. None of the Shayes were good cooks. Since Mary’s death, meals had become totally different to them, just something to soothe the rumblings in their bellies.

Shaye prepared the meal by rote, his mind elsewhere. If there was a grandson out there—Matthew’s blood, his own blood—it was their duty to make sure the boy was raised right. If it turned out not to be Matthew’s son, then the girl needed to stop saying it was.

Shaye wasn’t sure which way his hopes were leaning.