The bartender shook his head and served them three more beers. Aside from these three men and the Shaye brothers, there were only a couple of other men in the place and they both had their heads down: one on a table, and one on the bar.
“Them those Shaye boys?” the man asked.
“Why do you want to know?” the bartender asked.
“We’re just curious.”
The bartender looked at the three men. He knew them. They worked for one of the larger ranches in the area, the Bar-K. He didn’t know their names, but he recognized their faces. They came into the saloon a few times a month, usually to start trouble. The spokesman was named Cobb and the other two were…Martin and…Franks, he thought. Or was it Frank something?
“We just heard they was in town,” Joe Cobb said. “Wanted to take a look, didn’t we, boys?”
“Sure did,” Harley Franks said and Kel Martin just nodded.
“You boys better finish your beers and move on,” the bartender said. “I don’t want no trouble here.”
“We’ll leave when we’re ready,” Cobb said. “Why don’t you go back to work?”
The bartender stood there for a moment, then moved down the bar to wake up a sleeping drunk.
22
“They don’t look like so much,” Cobb said to his buddies.
“Wonder where the ol’ man is?” Franks said.
“We better finish these beers,” Martin said.
The other two men looked at him.
“The bartender’s gotta close up.”
“Shut up, Kel,” Cobb said. “He’ll close up after we drink up and leave.”
“What are we gonna do, Joe?” Franks said.
“I dunno,” Cobb said.
“We just wanted to get a look at them,” Franks said. “We done that. Let’s get back to the ranch.”
They’d been drinking at several of the other saloons in town, then heard from somebody that Dan Shaye and his sons were in town and in the Wagon Wheel. Franks was right. The only plan they’d had was to get a look at the Shayes.
“But what fun would that be?” Cobb asked.
Thomas watched the bartender wake the two sleeping drunks and get rid of them. That left only him and James—and the three men at the bar.
“Closin’ up, you fellas,” the barman said, coming over to their table.
“Fine,” James said. “We’ll leave.”
The bartender didn’t move.
“What is it?” Thomas asked.
“Them three are troublemakers,” he said. “They was askin’ about you.”
“You know ’em?” Thomas asked.
“Yeah, they work at the Bar-K.”
“What kind of trouble are they lookin’ for?” Thomas asked.
“The kind of trouble you fellas must be used to by now.”
“Okay,” Thomas said. “Thanks.”
“Can you take it outside?” the bartender asked. “I gotta close up.”
“Don’t worry,” Thomas said. “We’re not lookin’ for trouble.”
Somehow that didn’t ease the bartender’s mind. He went back behind the bar.
“What do you wanna do, Thomas?” James asked.
“I’d like to get out of here and back to our hotel without trouble,” Thomas said, “but my guess is that’s not gonna be up to us.”
James turned for the first time and looked at the three men.
“They look like ranch hands, Thomas,” he said. “Not gun hands.”
“But they’re wearin’ guns, James,” Thomas said. “They’re wearin’ guns.”
“Let’s try ’em.” Cobb said.
“What?” Franks asked.
Cobb turned and looked at his two compadres.
“Come on, they don’t look like much. One of them’s hardly old enough to shave. Let’s brace ’em, see how tough they are.”
“B-but…ain’t they lawmen?” Martin asked.
“Not no more, they ain’t,” Cobb said. “Besides, them two ain’t wearin’ no badges.”
“I don’t know—” Martin said. “I think we better get back to the ranch, Cobb.”
“Nobody cares what you think, Kel,” Cobb said. He looked at Franks. “Whataya say, Harley? Wanna have some fun?”
Harley Franks had just enough beer and whiskey in him from a whole night of drinking that the idea appealed to him. They worked hard punching cows all the time. Where was the harm in having some fun?
“Why not?” he said. “What do we do?”
Cobb turned as he heard chairs scraping the floor and saw the two Shayes standing up, getting ready to leave.
“You two just follow my lead,” he said to Franks and Martin. “We make them back down and we’ll be the ones with a rep, not them.”
“I’m a cowhand,” Martin said, confused. “I don’t want a rep.”
Nobody was listening.
23
“Let’s just leave, James,” Thomas said. “There’s nothin’ else we can do.”
“All right.”
They pushed their chairs back and stood up. The bartender was behind the bar, watching all five men warily. There was a shotgun under the bar, but he wasn’t going to get involved.
As they headed for the door, one of the men pushed away from the bar, followed by the other two, although Thomas could see one of them was moving reluctantly.
“Hold on, gents,” the man said. “What’s your hurry?”
“No hurry,” Thomas said. “It’s closin’ time and we’re leavin’.”
“But we ain’t even met yet,” the man said. “My name’s Cobb. What’s yours?”
“It’s a little late to be makin’ new friends, don’t you think?” Thomas asked. “Besides, I get the feelin’ you and your partners already know our names.”
“Shaye, right?” Cobb asked. “Dan Shaye’s sons?”
“That’s right,” James said. “What about it?”
“I was just wonderin’,” Cobb said, chuckling. “Didn’t your daddy give you your own names?”
“Friend,” Thomas said, “we don’t have time for this. Move out of the way. We’re leavin’.”
“With your tails between your legs?” Cobb asked.
“What?” James asked. Thomas put a steadying hand on his little brother’s arm.
“That’s the only way you’re leavin’,” Cobb said. “With your tails between your legs…ain’t that right, boys?”
“Uh, right,” Franks said.
“Um…” Martin said.
