Pearl River Junction Read online

  Pearl River Junction

  Robert J. Randisi

  A Debt to the Dead

  For Daniel Shaye and his boys, the law comes second, family first. So when a letter -- an urgent cry for help -- arrives from a woman who claims to be the mother of a child sired by Shaye's late son, Matthew, the former lawman and his clan saddle up and head out for Pearl River Junction.

  The desperate young woman may not be telling the whole truth -- lying instead about her boy's parentage to get the Shaye guns behind her as protection from a cold killer and his bloodthirsty gang. There's a whirlwind of death and destruction blowing in, and now Dan and his sons are directly in its path. But Shaye taught his sons well to stand up for justice -- and that even a town full of strangers is worth fighting for . . . and dying for.

  THE SONS OF DANIEL SHAYE

  PEARL RIVER JUNCTION

  ROBERT J. RANDISI

  1

  “Rider comin’.”

  Thomas Shaye looked up at the sound of younger brother James’s voice. Both young men were bare-chested and sweaty, as they were working in the midday Wyoming heat, sinking fence posts. Two gun belts hung from the most recently erected post and Thomas walked over to be near his as the rider drew closer.

  “Can you see who it is?” he asked James.

  “No, but I know it ain’t Pa.”

  Dan Shaye had ridden into town to purchase more supplies for the work that needed to be done around their ranch, which they had only recently purchased. And he’d taken the buckboard, so there’d be no reason for him to be riding toward them at this time of the day. It’d be several more hours before their father returned from the town of Winchester.

  “James.”

  James turned in time to see Thomas toss him his gun belt. He caught it at the last moment, but instead of strapping it on he simply slung it over one shoulder.

  Thomas started to strap his onto his hips, but then stopped when he recognized the rider.

  “Ain’t that Rafe Coleman?”

  “I think you’re right.”

  Instead of strapping the gun on, Thomas simply folded the gun belt and held it in his left hand. There seemed less of a chance of needing it now that they’d identified the rider, but it would still be easy for him to draw it if the need arose.

  “Afternoon, Rafe,” Thomas said as the rider reached them.

  Rafe Coleman was about Thomas’s age, mid-twenties, and ran errands around Winchester. The man reined in his horse, but remained mounted.

  “You know my brother James?”

  “Yessir,” Rafe said. “Howdy.”

  James nodded.

  “What brings you out here, Rafe?”

  “Got a letter for your pa.”

  “Pa’s in town,” James said.

  “Truly?” Rafe asked, frowning. “Geez, I guess I coulda saved myself a ride out here, huh?”

  “You didn’t see him there?” Thomas asked.

  “No, sir,” Rafe said. He removed his hat and wiped his brow on his sleeve. “If’n I had I wouldn’ta rode out here.”

  “Guess not,” James said.

  “Sure woulda saved me some time, though,” Rafe complained. “Damn.” With that he turned his horse and rode on.

  Thomas regarded the small envelope for a moment. The handwriting was small and cramped, somehow feminine. The return address said Pearl River Junction, Texas, but there was no name. Thomas knew that Pearl River Junction was a town not far from Epitaph, where their mother had been killed while their pa, Dan Shaye, had been the law. He’d deputized his three sons and they’d tracked down the killers. They also lost their brother Matthew, killed by the same man.

  Thomas shoved the letter into his shirt pocket, removed his gun belt, and hung it back on the post.

  “Well, what is it?” James asked.

  “Like Rafe said, just a letter for Pa.”

  “From who?”

  “Don’t say.”

  “Ain’t you gonna read it?”

  “It’s for Pa.”

  “So?”

  “I ain’t openin’ Pa’s mail, James,” Thomas said. “Now come on, let’s get these posts in. We’re both gonna catch hell if we don’t finish today.”

  “What’s the good of fencin’ in land when we got no livestock?” James groused.

  “The livestock will come later,” Thomas said. “You know Pa’s got plans.”

  “We ain’t farmers, Thomas.”

  “No, we’re ranchers.”

  “We ain’t ranchers neither,” James said, “We’re lawmen.”

  “We were lawmen,” Thomas said. “That’s in the past.”

  “Thomas,” James said, grabbing his brother’s arms, “just ’cause Pa don’t want to be a lawman anymore don’t mean we can’t.”

  “James—”

  “No, listen,” James said. “We could find a town that would hire us: you as sheriff and me as a deputy.”

  “First of all, you don’t get hired as sheriff, you get elected.”

  “Marshal, then.”

  “And second, we ain’t got the experience—or the years.”

  “You’re old enough to be a marshal,” James said. “I can be your deputy.”

  “James—”

  “Why do we have to quit just because Pa wants to?”

  “We don’t,” Thomas said. “We can go our separate ways and do what we want. Pa said so.”

  “Then let’s do it.”

  “Separate ways, James,” Thomas said. “If you want to go and be somebody’s deputy, go ahead.”

  “And what are you gonna do?”

  “Stay right here.”

  “For how long?”

  “Until I decide what I want to do with my life,” Thomas said, “or, little brother, at least until these fence posts are put it. Now can we get this done?”

  In the town of Winchester Dan Shaye was waiting in the general store for his order to be filled. While he waited he went over to look at the new shirts. When he’d gotten dressed that morning, he’d realized that his shirt had no holes on the left side, where he used to pin his badge. There was a time, years ago, when his wife Mary had been doing the laundry and had pointed out how all his shirts had these pin holes in them.

  “Why don’t you just slide the pin through the same hole every time you put on your badge?” she’d demanded.

  “Why don’t you make every apple pie you make taste the same?” he’d countered.

  “My pies do taste the same, Daniel Shaye,” she’d responded. “They’re delicious every time. You say so yourself.”

  She’d defeated him with words as she usually did. He touched the new shirts, felt the smoothness of the cotton. He didn’t really need any new shirts, but most of the ones he had at home still had the pin holes in them from his badge. If he was going to leave the law behind forever, maybe he should get rid of those shirts and buy some of these new ones.

  “Wanna add some shirts to your order, Mr. Shaye?” the clerk asked from behind him.

  Shaye stared at the new shirts for a few moments more, then removed his hand and turned to face the man.

  “No,” he said, “I don’t think so. I guess I can still get some wear out of the shirts I’ve got.”

  2

  When Shaye pulled the buckboard to a halt in front of the house, both Thomas and James came out to help unload.

  “You boys finish those fence posts?” he asked, dropping down from the seat.

  “Yeah, Pa,” Thomas said. “They’re all in.”

  “Good,” Shaye said, “then we can start stringin’ this wire tomorrow morning.”

  First they took in the items that belonged in the house, then Shaye told James to take the buckboard with the wire to the barn and tak
e care of the team.

  “While I’m doin’ that, Pa,” James said, “Thomas can show you your letter.”

  As James drove the team away, Shaye looked at his oldest son and asked, “What letter?”

  “Rafe brought this out for you today,” Thomas said, producing the letter from his pocket and handing it to his father.

  Shaye read the front and said, “Pearl River Junction.”

  “We know anybody from there, Pa?”

  Shaye thought a moment, then shrugged and said, “Not that I can think of.”

  Thomas waited a few moments, then asked, “Are you gonna open it?”

  “Is there a pot of coffee on the stove?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, let’s get some and then I’ll open it.”

  They both went inside and Thomas poured out two cups of coffee while Shaye sat down at the kitchen table and opened the envelope. Thomas sat across from him and set a cup in front of his father.

  “Thanks,” Shaye said. He took a sip before unfolding the letter to read it. It had been folded so many times to fit into the envelope that it took a second or two to open it. Thomas waited patiently while his father read. They’d bought this run-down ranch almost a year ago, and in all that time they’d never received a telegram or a letter. Thomas knew that some of his mother’s family were still out there, but there wasn’t any way they’d have known where to find them.

  He watched his father’s face and saw the change in it as he read the words on the page.

  “What is it, Pa?”

  Shaye lowered the letter and looked at his son.

  “Do you know a girl named Belinda Davis?”

  “Belinda…” Thomas repeated. “No, I don’t think so. Is that who the letter is from?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who is she?”

  “I don’t know,” Shaye said.

  “How did she find us?”

  “The letter went to Vengeance Creek first,” Shaye said. “Then it got forwarded here.”

  “How’d they know to do that?”

  “Once we settled here, I sent word to Vengeance Creek that we were here,” Shaye said.

  “Why?”

  “Just in case.”

  “Just in case…what?”

  “I thought…” He paused and tried again. “Well, in case any of your mother’s people wanted to find us.”

  “But why would—”

  “It doesn’t matter now,” Shaye said, cutting Thomas off. He looked at the letter again, then lowered it as James entered.

  “James,” Shaye asked, “did you ever know a girl named Belinda Davis?”

  “Belinda?” he said. “Sure.”

  “You did?” Thomas asked.

  “Come on, Thomas,” James said, “she was that gal in Epitaph that Matthew was sweet on. Pretty little black-haired thing?”

  “Matthew was sweet on her?” Shaye asked.

  “Yeah, Pa,” James said, “Why?”

  “That’s who the letter is from,” Thomas said.

  “What does she want, Pa?”

  “Well,” Shaye said, “She says she’s not doing too good and wants our help.”

  “How?” Thomas asked. “Does she want money?”

  “Just says she wants help.”

  “So why would she ask you?” Thomas asked.

  “Well,” Shaye said, looking at both his sons, “apparently she thinks that I should take some interest in my grandson.”

  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.

  4

  Thomas didn’t like the town of Winchester.

  The first time the Shayes rode into town, a year or so ago, he didn’t like the way it felt. The people eyed them in a funny way, a way he knew his father could not miss, and yet Dan Shaye insisted that this was where they were going to settle. Not in town, but on a small ranch just outside of town that he knew was for sale cheap.

  Every time Thomas rode into Winchester, he had the same feeling—and this was no exception. Maybe this girl’s baby wasn’t Matthew’s son at all, but maybe the little tyke was going to pry them away from Winchester, Wyoming, once and for all.

  The three of them reined in their horses in front of the telegraph office and dismounted.

  “Go over to the café and get a table, boys,” Shaye said. “I’ll join you for breakfast after I’ve sent my telegrams.”

  Eating at the café—at any café—was a treat for Thomas and James and they were looking forward to it today. Eating away from home was the only time they really looked forward to a meal as something other than a necessity.

  As they were shown to a table, Thomas felt the eyes of the other early diners on them.

  “I don’t know what they’re so all-fired curious about all the time,” James said.

  “You feel it too?”

  “Every time we come into town.”

  “I felt it the first time we rode in, but I didn’t wanna upset Pa,” Thomas said. “He seemed so set on settling here.”