“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.
7
“What are you lookin’ at?” James asked Thomas.
They were in the general store and Thomas was standing at the front window, looking out.
“The deputy,” Thomas said. “He followed us here. He’s across the street.”
They both turned and looked at their father, who was standing at the counter.
“Think Pa saw him?” James asked.
“If I saw him, Pa saw him,” Thomas said. “Doesn’t matter, I guess. He’s not gonna do anythin’.”
“Think the sheriff sent him?”
“No,” Thomas said. “I think Pa and the sheriff have an understandin’. The deputy’s on his own.”
“You boys lookin’ at the deputy?” Shaye asked, coming over to join them.
“Yeah, Pa,” James said. “You want me to go talk to him?”
“No,” Shaye said, “let him be.”
“Are we finished here, Pa?” Thomas asked.
“They’re holding our order for us,” Shaye said. “Let’s go back to the telegraph office and see if anything else has come in.”
The three of them walked down the street to the office with the deputy behind them.
Mayor Ben Carter opened the door to the sheriff’s office and marched right in.
“Mornin’, Ben,” Kennedy said.
“The Shayes are in town, Adam,” Carter said brusquely. “Have you seen them?”
“Saw them and spoke to them.”
“What do they want?”
“To be left alone, I guess.”
“No, I mean—”
“I know what you mean, Ben,” the lawman said. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll pour you a cup of coffee.”
“I don’t want to sit down,” the mayor said and then promptly sat down. Kennedy went to the coffeepot, poured a cup, and handed it to the man.
“Ben,” he said, “Dan Shaye and his boys have lived here for over a year. Don’t you think it’s time you gave them a break?”
“As soon as we let our guard down,” Carter said, “somethin’ will happen. Mark my words.”
“They’ve been law-abidin’ citizens since they got here.”
“I know that,” the mayor said, ”but that don’t mean trouble won’t come huntin’ them, does it?”
Kennedy sat himself back behind his desk.
“Tell me somethin’,” he said. “How would you feel if they were wearin’ badges?”
“Badges?” Carter asked. “What badges?”
“Deputy’s badges.”
“Deputy’s—you mean here? In Winchester?”
“That’s what I mean.”
“Well…” Carter frowned, scratched his head. “If they were lawmen here, I guess that wouldn’t be so bad. I mean, if folks knew they were on the side of the law, I guess that’d make ’em…less fearful, don’t ya think?”
“I suppose so,” Kennedy said. “I mean, if we endorsed them, that might put folks at ease…”
“Why don’t you ask them?”
“You’re the mayor,” Kennedy said, “you ask ’em.”
“Me? I—I can’t.”
“Have you ever talked with Dan Shaye at all since he and his boys arrived here?”
“Well…no…”
“With either of his sons?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Carter hesitated, then said, “That’s always been your job.”
“Well…it may not matter anyway.”
“Why not?”
“They might be leavin’.”
“Leavin’? When?”
“Probably tomorrow.”
“For good?”
“I don’t know,” Kennedy said. “They didn’t say anything about sellin’ their property. Might just be a temporary thing.”
“When will we know?”
“Later in the day, I guess,” Kennedy replied. “Seems he sent out some telegrams and he’s waitin’ for some replies.”
“Can we find out what those telegrams said?”
“Not legally.”
“But you could—”
“I won’t, Ben,” Kennedy said. “We’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”
“Well…if they’re leavin’ town, even for a while…that should give us a breather…”
Kennedy knew the only one who needed a breather was the mayor. Carter had been as tense as a guitar string since the Shayes first arrived in Winchester.
“Okay…well, I’ll leave you to it, then,” Carter said. “We’ll, uh, do like you said and wait and see.” He went to the door, opened it, and turned back. “And let’s talk about that…that badge thing, huh?”
“Sure.”
“I mean, havin’ them as lawmen here might even be good for the town.”
“Right.”
“Not that I want to replace you…”
“Of course not.”
“Just…you could probably use the competent help, right?”
“Right.”
“All right,” Carter said, appearing calmer than when he’d entered, “okay. I’ll, uh, wait to hear from you.”
“I’ll let you know what happens, Ben.”
Carter nodded, looked as if he were going to say something else, then thought better of it and went out the door.
It must have been even more than the year they’d lived in Winchester since any of the Shayes had worn a badge. Sheriff Kennedy wondered if any of them were itchin’ to put one back on. Even having one of them as a deputy would give him something he’d never had before—as Mayor Ben Carter had put it, a “competent” deputy.
8
Sheriff Harvey Dillon of Epitaph, Texas, had also sent Dan Shaye a telegram telling him he’d check Pearl River Junction to see if the girl still lived there. That meant that they didn’t know anything they hadn’t known before.
“When another response comes in,” Shaye told the clerk, “one of us should be at the Golden Garter Saloon.”
“Yes, sir.”
Outside Shaye told Thomas and James the news, which was no news.
“So what do we do now?” James asked.
“We stay around town until we hear somethin’,” Shaye said.
“And if we don’t hear?”
“We’ll leave in the morning,” Shaye said. “Head for Pearl River Junction. Whatever happens happens.”
“When’s the Golden Garter open?” Thomas asked.
“Today,” Shaye said, “when we get there. Come on…”
When they reached the Golden Garter Saloon, Dan Shaye banged on the door with his fist.
“What the hell—” The doors swung open and the owner of the saloon, Abner Moore, a black man in his sixties, appeared.
“Come on, you old geezer, open up. Me and the boys are thirsty.”
“Dan Shaye, that you?” Moore asked, squinting against the sun. “When the hell did you start drinkin’ early?”
“Today,” Shaye said, “only we aren’t gonna do much drinking unless you let us in.”
Abner looked at Thomas.
“What’s got into this man, boy?”
“He just found out he might be a grandpa,” Thomas said.
“Well, hell’s bells, man,” Abner said, staring at Shaye. “Why didn’t you say so?”
He stepped back, unlocked the batwing doors, and let the Shayes enter.
“Blessed events is somethin’ that’s got to be celebrated,” Abner said. “What’ll you boys have?”
“Three beers, Abner,” Shaye said, “and make ’em cold ones.”
If Dan Shaye had one friend in Winchester, it was Abner Moore. The two had hit it off from the moment they first met.
“My beers is always cold, goddamn it.”
Abner drew four beers and set them on the bar.