Pearl River Junction: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

57

When Bill Samms and Roy Leslie rode in, they were also watched by all four men—Dan Shaye, Thomas, James, and Sheriff Cotton.

“Where’s Thad?” Shaye asked Cotton as the two strangers rode by.

“I don’t know,” Cotton said. “Making rounds, I guess.”

“The boy would like to prove himself, wouldn’t he?” Shaye asked.

“I think so,” Cotton said, “even more because you and your boys are here, though. Not just to me.”

One of the riders turned his head and looked right at Shaye, then turned away.

“Neither of these men are Collier either,” Shaye said. “I think I’m going to go and look for Thad.”

“Why?” Cotton asked. “What are you worried about?”

“I’m just worried,” Shaye said. “A young man like that, eager to prove himself, will not necessarily follow orders.”

“All right,” Cotton said. “I’ll wait here. If you go to the south end of town, you might end up at the livery at the same time as these two riders who just came in.”

“I’ll do my best to stay out of trouble,” Shaye said.

It was the liveryman who found Thad first. He was bending over him when the other two strangers reached the stable.

“Hey there!” Samms shouted.

Charlie Styles, who owned the livery, looked up at the two men.

“Be with ya in a minute, gents,” he said. “Got me a unconscious deputy here.”

“That a fact?” Leslie asked. “How’d that happen?”

“Don’t rightly know,” Styles said. “You leavin’ your horses for the day?”

“Likely,” Samms said.

“This fella’s got him a few lumps, but he’s still breathin’,” Styles said. “Guess he won’t mind if I take care of business first.”

Styles left Thad in the stall where he was lying and went to take care of the two horses.

When Shaye reached the livery, the two strangers were just leaving.

“Deputy,” one of them said by way of greeting.

Shaye touched his hat and nodded.

“Looks like one of your partners found some trouble,” the other man said.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ll see,” the man said and he and his partner kept walking, laughing together.

Shaye entered the livery and saw Charlie Styles leaning into one of the stalls.

“What’s going on?” her asked.

Styles looked up and said, “Busy day in here. Got one of your young fellers in here.”

Shaye walked over to the stall and saw Thad lying on the ground. His face was bruised and there was some blood coming from his nose. He’d obviously been beaten.

“Is he alive?”

“He’s breathin’,” Styles said.

“Get me a bucket of water.”

“Sure thing.”

As Styles went for the water, Shaye leaned over Thad, touching him, trying to determine if there were any other injuries that were not immediately evident, like a broken bone.

“Thad? Come on, boy.” He slapped the young deputy’s face. “Wake up, lad.”

“Here’s your water,” Styles said, appearing with a bucket.

“Dump it on him,” Shaye said. “Might be the only way to wake him up.”

“Should I get the doctor, then?”

“Dump it on him and then we’ll see.”

“Here ya go, lad,” Styles said and dumped the water on Thad, cackling all the while.

“Okay, old-timer,” Shaye said to Styles as Thad came sputtering to life, “that’ll do it.”

Style went away, taking his empty bucket with him, still laughing.

“Jesus—” Thad said. “What the—”

“Easy, boy,” Shaye said as Thad tried to jump to his feet. “Stay down a minute longer and tell me what happened.”

Thad wiped his face and shook it to get water out of his eyes.

“Gimme a minute.”

Shaye allowed him his minute and during that time noticed that Thad’s gun was still in its holster.

“Two men,” Thad said finally. “I saw them ride in, so I thought I’d check them out.”

“You were told not to brace anyone.”

“I just thought—”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I wanted to question them,” Thad said, “but they wouldn’t answer any questions. They…laughed at me. Didn’t think I was really a deputy. They…beat me up, left me in here, I guess.”

“Can you get up?”

“I…I think so.”

Shaye extended his hand and pulled Thad to his feet. The boy staggered a moment, then caught his balance.

“Find your hat,” Shaye said.

He waited while Thad hunted up his hat, reshaped it, and placed it on his head.

“How do you feel?” Shaye asked.

“Okay.”

“No permanent injury?”

Thad flexed his arms and hands, felt his face.

“No,” Thad said, “just some lumps.”

“Good. Now we can get back to work.”

“Are we gonna arrest them?”

“The men who beat you up? No.”

“What? Why not?”

“Why should we?”

“They beat me up! I’m a deputy.”

“Not for long if you disobey an order again. You were told not to engage any of these men.”

“I just thought—”

“It’s the sheriff’s job to think, Thad,” Shaye said. “It’s your job to follow his orders.”

“So we’re just gonna let them get away with it?”

“If we put them in a cell, they’d be out in no time,” Shaye said. “That’s not how we want them. When they make their move, we have to be ready. And you,” Shaye said, pointing for emphasis, “have to do what you’re told from now on. Understood?”

Thad looked down, shuffled his feet, and said, “Yeah, I understand, Mr. Shaye.”

“Good,” Shaye said, “we’re going back to the office now.”

As they started walking back, Thad asked, “Do you have to tell the sheriff about this?”

“What would you tell him about the bruises on your face? That you fell down? Would you rather he thinks you’re clumsy?”

“No, I guess not.”

A few moments later Thad said, “Mr. Shaye, do you think the sheriff will fire me?”

“For making a mistake?” Shaye asked. “And paying for it with a few lumps? Thad, if you admit to it and learn from it, I don’t think you’ll loose your job over it—unless I read Sheriff Cotton completely wrong.”

“He’s a decent man,” Thad said. “I thought I could learn a lot from him, but now I think I could learn a lot more from you.”

“I may be more experienced than Riley Cotton,” Shaye said, “but there are a lot of things about being a man he can teach you that I can’t.”

“A man?” Thad asked. “Or a lawman?”

“Take your pick, Thad,” Shaye said. “There are a lot of the same qualities in both.”