Vengeance Creek: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

2

Thomas and James finished their rounds in time for supper, and Shaye took them over to the Carver House Café for steaks and conversation.

It was dinnertime, but the Carver House kept a table open for Shaye and his deputies at all times. On the way to their table they exchanged nods with the mayor and several members of the town council and their families.

“You know what I notice?” James asked as they sat down.

“What, James?” Shaye asked.

“Nobody ever asks you to eat with them, Pa,” the younger Shaye said. “Not since we first came to this town.”

“Why should they do that, son?” Shaye asked. “We aren’t friends with these people, we just work for them.”

“You had a lot of friends in Epitaph, Pa,” James argued.

“A lot of good that did your mother a year ago in the street,” Shaye said. “I know you boys haven’t forgotten what today is.”

“No, Pa,” Thomas said, giving his brother a hard look. “We remember.”

“Stop looking at your brother that way, Thomas.”

“I’m sorry for bringin’ it up, Pa,” James said, putting his head down.

“Nothing to be sorry for, son,” Shaye said. “You boys have got minds of your own. That’s kinda what I wanted to talk to you about tonight.”

At that point the waiter came and Shaye ordered steak dinners for the three of them.

“Burn ’em,” he told the waiter, who already knew that.

“Pa,” Thomas said, “if we got minds of our own, I’d kinda like to have mine rare…if that’s okay?”

“That’s fine, Thomas,” Shaye said. To the waiter, he added, “Burn two of ’em and make one rare…unless…” He paused to look at James.

“Burnt is fine with me, Pa,” he said.

Shaye looked at the waiter and nodded.

“Comin’ up, Sheriff.”

“Thomas,” Shaye asked as the waiter moved off, “how long you been eating your steaks rare?”

“Uh, whenever I’m not with you, Pa.”

“Boy,” Shaye said, “you eat your steaks however you please, you hear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And that goes for you too, James.”

“Yes, Pa.”

The waiter came back with three mugs of beer, which the three men hadn’t even had to ask for.

“Beer okay, Thomas?” Shaye asked, picking his up. “You haven’t gone and acquired a taste for whiskey, have you?”

“No, Pa,” Thomas said. “Beer’s fine.”

“Me too, Pa.”

“You better not be drinking whiskey, young man,” Shaye said to James. “You’re barely twenty.”

“I’m a man full growed, Pa.”

Shaye hesitated, then took a gulp of beer before speaking.

“That you are, James,” he said. “You both proved that to me last year. So, James, I guess if you want to drink whiskey—”

“I don’t, Pa,” James said. “It burns too much going down.”

Shaye laughed. “You get a little older, son, you’re gonna learn to like that burn.”

“What was it you wanted to talk to us about, Pa?” Thomas asked.

“You boys have been good sons, and good deputies,” Shaye said, “but I think it’s time for you to choose for yourselves.”

“I really do like my steak rare, Pa,” James insisted.

“I’m talking about your lives, James,” Shaye said, “not your steaks.”

“Whataya mean, Pa?” Thomas asked.

“I mean you don’t have to be law men if you don’t wanna be,” Shaye said. “If you boys want to take off your badges, or even move on, I’ll understand.”

“Move on?” Thomas repeated.

“You—You want us to leave, Pa?” James asked.

“Only if you want to,” Shaye said hurriedly. “I’m not trying to chase you boys away. I just want you to know that I realize that you’re men, and that you have your own lives.”

“I don’t know about James, Pa,” Thomas said, “but I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to stay here and be your deputy. And maybe, someday, when I’ve learned all that you can teach me, I can become a sheriff myself.”

Shaye reached out and touched his son’s arm. “You’ll make a fine sheriff some day, Thomas, or even a federal marshal. I’m glad you want to stay.”

Both Shaye and Thomas looked at James.

“Well, don’t look at me,” the younger man said. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere. Maybe I don’t wanna be a sheriff someday, but right now I’m happy to be your deputy, Pa.”

“I appreciate that, James,” Shaye said, touching his youngest son’s arm as well. One thing Mary had tried to instill in Shaye early on was that they ought to treat all three boys the same way and not show favorites.

“What do you want to do, James?” Thomas asked. “Be a banker, maybe?”

“Thomas…” James said warningly.

“A banker?” Shaye asked, smiling. “Is there something I should know?”

“Well…” Thomas said.

“Thomas!”