“Jesus, you’re killin’ me!” Jeb shouted. “Put me down, you big ox.”
Ben put Jeb back on his feet and backed away.
“I’m just so damn glad to see you, Jeb.”
Jeb looked past his brother to where Roberts and Wilson were standing with four horses.
“Boys,” he said.
“Boss,” Wilson said. Roberts nodded.
“You got my gun?”
“Right here.” Ben turned. “Dave.”
Roberts moved to one of the horse and fetched a gun belt from the saddlebags. He handed it to Ben, who turned and presented it to his brother.
Jeb took the gun belt and strapped it on.
“You don’t know how naked I’ve felt without this,” he said, adjusting it on his hip.
“You think you should be puttin’ that on right in front of the prison?” Ben asked.
“Why not?” Jeb asked. “I’m out, ain’t I? I’m a free man.”
“Why don’t we get away from here before they change their minds?” Ben asked.
Jeb smiled and patted Ben on the shoulder.
“That’s not such a bad idea, brother,” he said. “I’ve also been itchin’ to be on a horse again.”
Wilson walked the fourth horse over to Jeb.
“This horse any good?” he asked.
“I picked it out myself,” Ben said.
“Clark?” Jeb asked, looking at Wilson.
“It’s a good animal, boss.”
Jeb nodded. Wilson was a much better judge of horseflesh than his brother Ben was.
“Okay, then,” Jeb said. “Let’s ride.”
They rode for half a day and then camped, still in Arizona.
“Sorry we don’t got better than beans for ya, Jeb,” Ben said.
“Hey,” Jeb said, “I’m eatin’ them under the open sky. This is the best meal I’ve had in two years.”
“Well,” Clark Wilson said, reaching into his saddlebag, “you probably ain’t had none of this in two years.”
He came out with a bottle of whiskey.
Jeb’s eyes lit up. “Give that here.”
“It ain’t the best stuff—” Wilson started, handing it over.
“It’s whiskey,” Jeb said. “That’s all that matters.”
He uncorked the bottle, lifted it to his lips, and took several big swallows. The rotgut burned its way down to his stomach, where it started a fire.
“Goddamn!” he said, lowering the bottle, his eyes watering. “That was good. So was them beans.”
He stoppered the bottle and passed it back to Wilson.
“Now,” he said, “tell me about Belinda.”
“Aw, Jeb,” Ben said, “why you wanna bother with her—”
“You know where she is, don’t you?” Jeb asked. “Ben, you’re supposed to know where she is.”
“We know where she is, Jeb,” Wilson said.
“And the kid?” Jeb asked. “She’s got the kid?”
“She’s got ’im,” Ben said.
“Him? It’s a boy, right?”
“It’s a boy.”
“What’d she name him?”
“We don’t know that,” Ben said.
“That’s okay,” Jeb said. “We’ll find out.”
“How we gonna do that, Jeb?” Ben asked.
“Easy,” Jeb said. “We’re gonna ask her.”
Later, when Ben and Dave Roberts were asleep, Jeb and Clark Wilson sat around the fire together.
“We’re sure glad you’re out, Jeb,” Wilson said.
“You been givin’ Ben a hard time, Clark?” Jeb asked.
“No,” Wilson said. “We did like you wanted, made him think he was in charge, but Jeb…he was always makin’ the wrong decision, ya know?”
“I know, Clark,” Jeb said, “but I knew I could count on you to keep him from gettin’ killed.”
“Believe me, there were times we all almost got killed.”
“Well, things’ll change now that I’m out.”
“Maybe we can make some money?”
“We’re gonna make plenty of money.”
“You been makin’ plans while you was inside?”
“Plenty of plans.”
“What’re we gonna hit first? A bank? A train?”
“First,” Jeb said, “we’re gonna go and see Belinda.”
Wilson shook his head. “Jeb.”
“This is somethin’ I gotta do, Clark,” Jeb said. “Where is she?”
“A town called Pearl River Junction,” Wilson said, “in Texas.”
“So that’s where we’re headed,” Jeb said. “Pearl River Junction.”
Wilson poured himself another cup of coffee and leaned back.
“What?”
“We need money, Jeb,” Wilson said. “We’re broke.”
“Broke?”
“All we got,” Wilson said, “is what you got in your pocket.”
Which wasn’t much. They’d given him a few coins when he left Yuma and the clothes he’d been wearing when he first arrived.
“Okay, Clark,” Jeb said. “Okay. Does Pearl River Junction have a bank?”
“It does.”
“Then we’ll kill two birds with one stone,” Jeb said. “We’ll go there and see Belinda and we’ll hit the bank.”
“That’s okay,” Wilson said, “but we’re gonna need some money to get there.”
“Clark,” Jeb asked. “you got somethin’ in mind, don’t ya?”
“Yep,” Wilson said, “I got somethin’ in mind.”
“Okay, then,” Jeb said, “pour me some more coffee and tell me what you got.”
14
By the time Dan, Thomas, and James Shaye rode into Pearl River Junction, it had been almost four months since the letter had been sent from Belinda Davis.
Pearl River Junction was a good-sized town, one that was still growing. As they rode down the main street, the Shayes could see that many of the buildings were newly erected. In fact, they could still smell the new wood that had been used to build them. In the center of town was a new two-story building built of brick that was the town’s City Hall.
The streets were bustling with traffic at midday: horses and buckboards in the street and a lot of pedestrian traffic on the boardwalks.
“Looks like a lively town,” James said.
“Yeah,” Dan said, “the kind that harvests trouble.”
Thomas remained silent, but his eyes took in everything. He noticed that he, his father, and his brother were attracting some curious looks, most notably from a group of men in front of one of the saloons and from a deputy as they rode past the new brick sheriff’s office, which was right next to City Hall.
“Pa…”
“I see ’em, Thomas.”
“See who?” James asked, looking around.
“Lawman, givin’ us the eye,” Thomas said.
“So what? We ain’t doin’ anything wrong.”
“We’re strangers,” Shaye said. “That’s enough to make people curious. Wait a minute.”
Thomas and James reined in their horses while Shaye turned his horse and rode over to where the deputy was standing, watching them.
“Hello, Deputy.”
“Howdy,” the young badge toter said. “Just passin’ through?”
“Actually, no,” Shaye said. “We’re looking for a livery that’ll take our horses for a few days.”
“All the way to the end of the street, then go left, not right,” the deputy said. “You’ll see it.”
“Thanks.”
“When you’re done, come by the office,” the man added. “The sheriff’s gonna want to talk to you.”
“We’ll do it,” Shaye said. “Thanks.”
He turned his horse and rode back to his sons.
“He didn’t ask many questions,” he told them. “I guess he’s going to leave that to his boss. Come on, we’ll take care of the horses and then talk to the sheriff.”
“We’re not gonna get a hotel first?” James asked.
“After,” Shaye said.
“Why are we so eager to report to the local law?” James asked.