breakfast on the table for her husband and her sons. Since her death—and since their move—he was unable to sleep for more than a few hours each night, so he got into the habit of rising first and trying to have breakfast ready for Thomas and James. The only problem was he was not a very good cook. On the trail he was passable—beans and coffee being his specialty—but in the kitchen he was a disaster. The boys often fretted about whether he would have breakfast ready when they woke up.
Today he made coffee, and nothing else. Took pity on his own stomach as well as his sons’.
“I thought we’d go to the cafe for breakfast today,” he told them when they came into the kitchen.
“Suits me,” Thomas said, frowning into his coffee. “Not that I’m insultin’ your cookin’ or nothin’, Pa.”
“That’s all right, son,” Shaye said. “I can insult my own cookin’ enough for the three of us.”
“Flapjacks ain’t bad when you make ’em, Pa,” James offered.
“I know,” Shaye said, “I noticed how much butter and sugar syrup you slather on them because they’re so good.”
James looked away, put his coffee down half finished.
“All right, then, deputies,” Shaye said. “I can see you’re not even gonna finish the coffee this mornin’, so let’s go and get us somethin’ decent to eat.”
The cafe they usually ate breakfast in was a popular one in town. Off the main street, people still sought it out in the mornings, and town folk rarely recommended it to strangers.
“Your table’s empty, Sheriff,” the waiter said as they entered.
Shaye had always considered having a table waiting in the better restaurants a small thing to expect as part of the sheriff’s job. Never one to demand any kind of graft from local businesses, this was the closest he ever came to a payoff.
James led the way, following the waiter to the table, and Thomas took the opportunity to tug on his father’s arm and say, “There she is.”
“There who is?” Shaye asked, looking around.
“Over against the wall, sittin’ with an older woman,” Thomas said. “That’s the teller gal James is sweet on.”
Shaye looked at the girl in question and saw a slender, pretty blonde about eighteen or nineteen.
“You don’t know who that is?” he asked Thomas.
“A teller at the bank,” Thomas said. “That’s all I know.”
“That’s the mayor’s daughter,” Shaye said, “sittin’ with the mayor’s wife.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Thomas said. “I guess I ain’t never paid much attention to the mayor’s family.”
They hurried to catch up and sit with James, who had been careful to take a seat where he could look across the room at the mayor’s daughter—although even he was not aware of her true identity.
Shaye wondered what the mayor would think if he knew that James was sweet on his daughter.
All three of them ordered steak and eggs, and Thomas added a stack of flapjacks. Shaye remembered having breakfast with all three of his sons and seeing Matthew pack away more food than the three of them put together. Recently he’d wondered if Thomas was trying to eat for Matthew as well. He noticed that his older son had put on some weight during the past year, but he was solid rather than fat. At six-two, he was four or five inches shorter than Matthew had been, and probably fifty pounds lighter.
Shaye was never able to stop thinking about his wife and his middle son, but he usually tried to push the memory somewhere, to the back of his mind, so it wouldn’t interfere with his everyday life. At best, the grief made him numb, and at its worst it was unbearable. He tried not to let it show when he was with Thomas and James, and he knew it was the same with them.
“What were you two whisperin’ about?” James asked when they had their food.
“Nothin’,” Thomas said. He finished his first excellent cup of coffee quickly and poured a second one.
“Musta been somethin’,” James said, eyeing his brother suspiciously. He looked longingly across the room at the mayor’s daughter, then back at his brother, narrowing his eyes.
“Okay, so I tol’ Pa about your teller gal.”
“Thomas—”
“James,” Shaye said, “that’s the mayor’s daughter.”
“What?”
“I think her name is—”
“Nancy,” James said. “Her name’s Nancy. You sure she’s the mayor’s daughter?”
“I’m sure,” Shaye said. “He must’ve got her the job in the bank.”
“She’s a right good teller, Pa,” James said. “I don’t think she would have needed her pa to get her the job.”
“Maybe not,” Shaye said, stuffing some steak and eggs into his mouth.
“Better think twice about this one, little brother,” Thomas said with a grin.
James frowned across the table at his brother. “You sayin’ I ain’t good enough for her?”
“I’m not sayin’ that at all,” Thomas said, “but considerin’ this is the mayor we’re talkin’ about, somebody might say it.”
“Thomas, what the—”
“That’s enough, boys,” Shaye said. “James, your brother just wants you to be careful. You know the kind of man the mayor is.”
“But, Pa, you’re the sheriff—”
“Mayor Timmerman just sees us as employees of the town, James,” Shaye said, “and that’s what we are. He don’t see us as bein’ on his level.”
“He ain’t so much,” James muttered.
“Well, I agree with you there, son,” Shaye said. “And I ain’t tellin’ you not to follow your heart. I’m just sayin’ be ready for her to maybe have the same outlook her father does.”
“She ain’t like that,” James said. “She’s nice, Pa…she’s right nice.”
“I’m glad to hear it, James,” Shaye said, “because you deserve a right nice girl…don’t he, Thomas?”
“Huh?” Thomas looked up from his flapjacks. “Oh, yeah, right, Pa. He sure does.”
8
After breakfast the three of them started walking toward the office together. Thomas happened to look across the street just as Ben Cardwell came out of the hotel.
“I’ll see you at the office,” he said to his father and brother.
Shaye looked across the street to see what had caught Thomas’s attention. “What is it?” he asked.
“Just a stranger I met last night,” Thomas said. “No big deal. I just want to talk to him.”
“I’ll come with you—” James started, but Thomas cut him off.
“That’s okay, James,” he said. “It’s just one man. We’re just gonna talk.”
“Okay, Thomas,” Shaye said. “Just watch yourself.”
“Always, Pa.”
Thomas started across the street as Shaye and James continued on to the sheriff’s office.
Cardwell left Sean Davis snoring in the room and went downstairs for breakfast. He decided to walk around town to look for a place to eat rather than settling for the hotel dining room. As soon as he stepped outside, he saw the sheriff and the two deputies across the street. After a few moments, the deputy from the night before stepped into the street and started across. Cardwell thought that he and this deputy were probably destined to clash. He decided to wait where he was and let the man come to him. As the lawman got closer Cardwell could see that he was wearing his badge today.
Thomas knew the man was letting him come closer, and that suited him. He wondered where the other one was, and opened the conversation by asking.
“He’s still asleep,” Cardwell said. “When we’re off the trail and in a real bed, he’s a late riser.”
“And what would be the late riser’s name?”
“Davis, Sean Davis,” Cardwell said. “You won’t find his name on any posters.”
