Vengeance Creek: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

12

Shaye was sitting in his office while his sons took turns keeping an eye on the strangers. When the door opened and a man entered, he looked up, expecting one of the boys. Instead it was Harry Chalmers, who was a clerk for the mayor and, like him, also a lawyer. Chalmers was about the same age as Thomas.

“Sheriff.”

“Afternoon, Harry. What can I do for you?”

“Mayor Timmerman sent me over to tell you—uh, ask you—to come over and see him.”

“What’s botherin’ the mayor?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Chalmers said. “He doesn’t tell me everything.”

“That’s funny,” Shaye said, “I thought he did, Harry.”

“Sheriff,” Chalmers said, “I don’t think the mayor tells anyone everything, not even Mrs. Timmerman.”

“Uh-huh,” Shaye said. “Okay, tell the mayor I’ll be over shortly.”

“Shortly?”

“Oh, you thought I’d come right over with you?”

“Well…”

“Go back and tell the mayor…shortly.”

“Okay,” Chalmers said, “but, uh, today, right?”

“Yes, Harry,” Shaye said, “today.”

Shaye didn’t make the mayor wait very long, just long enough for the man to realize he wouldn’t come running whenever he was called. About a half hour later he appeared in the mayor’s office.

“Ah, Sheriff,” Harry Chalmers said from behind his desk, “I’ll tell the mayor you’re here.”

“You do that, Harry.”

Chalmers knocked on the mayor’s door and entered, then returned and held the door open.

“You can go right in, Sheriff.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

Shaye slid past the clerk into the mayor’s office. Timmerman remained seated, making a statement that way. He was a large, barrel-chested man in his fifties who, even in just the year Shaye and his sons had been in town, had put on weight. Shaye knew they were the same age, but Timmerman looked considerably older.

“Ah, Sheriff Shaye,” Timmerman said, “thanks so much for coming over.”

“Harry seemed to think it was important, Mayor,” Shaye said. “Some town business I should know about?”

“No, Sheriff,” Timmerman said, “it’s more of a, uh, personal matter. Have a seat, will you?”

Shaye sat down opposite the man, wondering what kind of personal business they could possibly have.

“Sheriff…Daniel…can I call you Daniel?”

“I prefer Dan, if that’s all right with you, Mayor.”

“All right, Dan,” Timmerman said.

Shaye knew the man’s name was William, but he wasn’t about to call him “William,” or “Will” or “Bill,” for that matter. “Mayor” was good enough for him.

“What’s on your mind, Mayor?”

“Well, actually…Dan…I want to talk to you about one of your sons.”

“One of my deputies?”

“I know they’re your deputies, but I need to talk to you about one of them as your son.”

“And which one would that be, Mayor?”

“The young one,” Timmerman said, “James.”

Shaye took a moment to study the mayor and scratch his head.

“What about James?” he finally asked.

“You know my daughter, Nancy.”

“Not really,” Shaye said. “I mean, I know you have a daughter, but I don’t know her.”

“Well, Nancy works at the bank,” Timmerman said, “and it has come to my attention that your son James has been, uh, well…hanging around my daughter.”

“Hanging around?” Shaye asked. “What does that mean, mayor?”

“Well, he’s always around the bank, and this morning he was in the café where my wife and daughter were having breakfast.”

“Mayor,” Shaye said, “my son Thomas and I were both with James in the café this morning. We were all having breakfast there. Is that a problem?”

“Well…no, not as such, but—”

“What does that mean, ‘as such’?” Shaye demanded.

“Sheriff,” Timmerman said, “I’m sure you appreciate my position in the community.”

“As a lawyer? Or as mayor?”

“Both, actually, as well as a father.”

“We’re both fathers.”

“But that’s where our similarities end,” Timmerman said. “I’m a politician, Sheriff.”

“And I’m a lawman,” Shaye said. “Maybe that’s why I’m havin’ trouble understanding what you’re trying to say here. You’re talkin’ like a politician.” Shaye leaned forward. “Why don’t you just say what you want to say right out?”

Timmerman sat back in his chair, as if trying to maintain his distance from Shaye.

“All right, then,” he finally said. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for your son, James, to pursue a relationship with my daughter.”

“What makes you think James has any intention of doin’ that?” Shaye asked.

“Nancy has told me how he comes around the bank and…looks at her.”

“My son goes to the bank because he has a deposit there.”

“So he’s not interested in Nancy?’

“Not that I know of,” Shaye said. “She’s kind of a…skinny thing, ain’t she?”

“Nancy’s very pretty,” Timmerman said. “Everyone in town knows that.”

“Mayor, did Nancy tell you that James has spoken to her? Told her he’s interested in her?”

“Well, no—”

Shaye stood up. “I don’t think we have anything else to talk about,” he said. “My son is not interested in your daughter.”

Shaye walked to the door, opened it and stopped there. He looked at Timmerman, who was still leaning back in his chair.

“But just for the record,” Shaye said, “don’t ever try to tell me that my son is not good enough for your daughter.”

“I wasn’t—”

“That’s exactly what you were tryin’ to do,” Shaye said, “in your politician way.”

Shaye walked out without another word. He closed the door gently, although he wanted to slam it, then walked out past Chalmers and closed the outer door gently as well. Moments later Chalmers heard the downstairs door slam.

After James had some food and took care of some other business, he returned to spell Thomas.

“Any change?” he asked, taking the seat.

“Yeah,” Thomas said. “They had a conversation.”