Thomas looked at the other two men. One looked confused and the other simply looked drunk.
“You fellas gonna let your friend’s mouth get you into all kinds of trouble?” he asked them. “Because that’s what he’s doin’. He’s lookin’ for trouble.”
“And he’s gonna find it,” James added.
“You boys got guns on,” Thomas said. “You ready to use ’em?”
“Hey…” Harley Franks said. “Hey…nobody said anything about no gunplay.”
“Well,” Thomas said, “your friend says we’re leavin’ here with our tails between our legs. The only way we’re gonna do that is if you fellas know how to use those guns of yours.”
“Cobb—” Martin said.
“Shut up, Kel. They’re bluffin’.”
“Bluffin’?” Thomas said. “What would we be bluffin’ about, Cobb?”
“You ain’t gonna use them guns.”
“Why not?” Thomas asked. “You seem to know our reputation. What makes you think I won’t kill you to get by you and then go back to my hotel and sleep like a baby?”
Cobb stared at Thomas. James looked at the other men, both of whom were shuffling their feet nervously.
“Time for you two to go,” he said.
Martin and Franks exchanged a glance.
“Now!” James snapped. “Last chance.”
Both men jumped, then turned and headed for the door.
“Sorry, Cobb,” Franks said on his way out.
Both men went through the batwing doors so quickly that they swung back and forth violently in their wake. Cobb didn’t turn his head or take his eyes off Thomas. It was as if he were afraid to, afraid that Thomas would shoot him down if he did.
“Now it’s your turn,” Thomas said. “Turn around and walk away.”
“With my tail between my legs?”
“That’s exactly—” James started, but Thomas cut him off.
“No,” Thomas said. “You can leave with your…dignity, if you like. Let’s just say this was all a mistake.”
Cobb continued to stare at him.
“Back out if you want,” Thomas said. “We’ll wait.”
Joe Cobb kept his hand away from his gun and started taking steps backward. Eventually, he had to turn his head to find the door, but he did it quickly. It wasn’t until he had one foot out the door that he stopped and turned back.
“I can’t do it,” he said.
Thomas turned his head and looked at James.
“Step away,” he said.
James obeyed.
“Bartender?” Thomas said. “You watchin’ this?”
“Uh, y-yes, sir.”
“Good.” He turned back to Cobb. “Last chance.”
“I can’t,” Cobb said and went for his gun.
Thomas’s hand flashed down, drew his gun, and fired before Cobb had a chance to clear leather. The impact of the shot to the man’s chest tossed him through the batwing doors and off the boardwalk, where he landed on his back in the street.
“Jesus…” the bartender said.
“Yeah…” James said.
Thomas ejected the spent shell, replaced it, holstered the gun, and then said to James, “We’ll have to wait here for the law.”
24
At breakfast the next morning, Thomas and James told their father what happened after he left the Wagon Wheel the night before.
“Did the sheriff come?” Shaye asked.
“He did,” Thomas said. “The bartender backed my story that Cobb gave me no choice.”
“And you still have your gun?” Shaye asked. “He’s not holding you over for a hearing?”
“No,” Thomas said. “I thought he was going to, but I think he let us go because of our names.”
Shaye thought about that for a moment.
“I guess I hadn’t realized what kind of reputation tracking the Langer gang down had given us,” Shaye said.
“Not to mention Vengeance Creek,” Thomas said.
Shaye rubbed his face with both hands.
“So our rep first got you into trouble—and then out.”
“I guess so.”
“Maybe my plan to hole up in Winchester at the ranch was the right one,” he said.
“I don’t know, Pa,” Thomas said. “Don’t that sort of sound like…hidin’ out.”
“Yep, it sounds a lot like hidin’ out,” Shaye agreed.
“Well, why should we?” Thomas asked, looking from his father to James and back. “It ain’t like we’re outlaws.”
“We got nothin’ to be ashamed of, Pa,” James said.
“No, you’re right, James,” Shaye said. “We don’t—but we’ll have to think about all this later. Today we got something else to take care of.”
“Matthew’s kid,” James said.
“If it is Matthew’s,” Thomas said. “Pa, what do we do if it is?”
“I don’t know yet, Thomas,” Shaye said. “I’m just trying to go one step at a time.”
“Well,” Thomas said, “I wanna talk to this girl. I wanna see this child.”
“So do I,” James said.
“You both will,” Shaye said, “but we’ll do it her way—for now.”
“What if it ain’t her way?” James asked. “What if she’s doin’ this because the sheriff’s tellin’ her to?”
“I’ll find out, James,” Shaye said. “I’ll know a lot more after this afternoon.”
The waiter came with their breakfast and they stopped talking and ate in silence, each man alone in his thoughts.
“Are you sure this is the right thing to do?” Marion Cotton asked her husband that morning.
“I don’t see what else there is to do,” Cotton said. “Belinda wants to see Shaye.”
“But we’ve told her she can stay here with us.”
“If Shaye is the boy’s grandfather, he has a right to know and to see him, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so,” she said. “I’ve just come to love that little boy so much.”
Cotton reached across the table and covered her hand with his.
“I know, honey. I know.”
Dan Shaye and his sons killed the morning just sitting on chairs out in front of their hotel. Around eleven thirty-five Shaye got to his feet.
“Might as well mosey over to the sheriff’s office,” he said. “You boys going to wait right here?”
“Sure, Pa,” James said.
“And you going to stay out of trouble?”
“Yes, Pa,” Thomas said.
“Good. I’ll be back soon.”
They watched him cross the street and walk toward the sheriff’s office.
