Pearl River Junction: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

6

“I’m tired of waitin’,” James said.

Sheriff Kennedy had left them and they had ordered another pot of coffee. They were almost to the bottom of that pot and Shaye was talking about ordering still another.

“I can’t drink any more coffee, Pa,” Thomas said.

“Ah…neither can I,” Shaye admitted. “Okay, let’s pay the check and get out of here.”

Thomas and James stopped on the boardwalk outside the café to wait for their father. While they were waiting, they both saw the clerk from the telegraph office crossing the street toward them.

“Hey,” Thomas said as the man started to go by them, “is that the reply for Dan Shaye?”

“Yes, sir,” the man said, “he wanted me to bring it right over to him.”

“That’s okay,” Thomas said, “we’ll take it.”

“But he said—”

“It’s okay,” James said. “We’re his sons.”

“Oh…o-okay.” The clerk handed the telegram to Thomas, turned, and went back across the street.

“You boys ready?” Shaye said, coming out behind them.

Thomas turned to Shaye, holding the telegram.

“You got an answer, Pa.”

Shaye took the yellow piece of paper from his son and unfolded it.

“What’s it say?” James asked.

“Just an answer from Mayor Garnett,” Shaye said. “He says he’ll check on the girl and get back to me later today.”

“Damn,” James said. “So what do we do now?”

“We stay in town and wait.”

“We’re gonna make people nervous, Pa,” Thomas said.

“That’s too bad,” Shaye said, refolding the telegram and putting it in his shirt pocket. “Boys, I’m sorry I’ve been so blind about this town.”

“That’s okay, Pa,” Thomas said. “We know how you feel about the ranch, about wearin’ a badge again.”

“I tell you what we’re going to do,” Shaye said. “Let’s get outfitted to hit the trail.”

“We going to Pearl River Junction?”

“I figure we’re going to have to go, one way or another,” Shaye said. “If she’s not still there, it’s the last place we know she was. Maybe somebody there will be able to tell us where she went. We’ll know better when we hear from Garnett again. Meanwhile, let’s go over to the general store and get some supplies.”

They stepped down from the boardwalk together into the street and started across.

From the window of the sheriff’s office, Deputy Canton watched as the Shayes left the café and crossed the street.

“Looks like they got an answer,” he said over his shoulder to Sheriff Kennedy.

“Lyle, get away from the window.”

Canton turned and looked at the sheriff.

“Don’t you think I should follow them, see where they’re goin’?” he asked. “What they’re gonna do?”

“I think you should leave them alone,” Kennedy said. “I think we should all just leave them alone. They haven’t done a thing wrong since they got here.”

Canton gave Kennedy a funny look.

“Look, Lyle,” the sheriff said, sitting back in his chair, “you want to follow them? Be my guest.”

“Really?”

“Don’t talk to them unless they talk to you,” Kennedy instructed. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And try not to be obvious, Lyle,” Kennedy said.

“I won’t be,” Canton said, “I promise.”

The eager young deputy was out the door before Kennedy could ask him if he knew what the word “obvious” meant.