Leaving Epitaph (3 page)

Ethan Langer poured himself a cup of coffee and replaced the pot without offering any of his men some. Terry Petry picked up the pot and filled his own cup. The other men were too busy eating to notice or care what was going on with the coffee.

“Whataya think, Ethan?” Petry asked. “We do better than Aaron and the boys?”

“We won’t know till we meet up,” Langer said.

“Yeah, I know, but whataya guess?”

“I don’t guess, Terry,” Langer said. “I never guess. I pick my banks because it’s where I know we’ll do the best. Aaron picks his the same way. We’ll see who got the most when we meet up, like always.”

“Okay, sure,” Petry said, “sure, Ethan.”

Langer drank his coffee and avoided looking into the fire. He’d had one plate of bacon and beans and that had been enough. Despite what he told Petry, he was wondering how his brother
Aaron had done in South Dakota. He hated going north himself, because he hated the cold. That’s why most of the jobs he’d pulled over the past year had been in Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona.

“Too bad about the woman,” Petry said.

“Huh?”

“That woman that we rode down,” the other man said. “Too bad she was in the street.”

“Stupid bitch got what she deserved,” Langer said.

“Wonder who she was?”

“Who cares?” Langer demanded. “Look, Petry, go and sit at the other fire, okay? Yer startin’ to piss me off.”

There were two campfires for the eight men, and they were sitting four and four, but now Langer took out his gun and waved it around.

“All of ya, go sit by the other fire, damn it! Now!”

Petry and the other men moved quickly, so that there were now seven men seated around the other fire. Ethan Langer was known to have a short fuse. A big man, he dealt out punishment with his fists or his gun, and none of the men wanted to risk either.

Langer holstered his gun and poured himself more coffee. What did he care what happened to some stupid woman who was standing in the street? Goddamn dumb bitch was too slow-witted to move, she deserved to get ridden down.

His horse had been the first to strike her, and the shocked look on her face was still vivid in his mind. So vivid that he had been seeing it in his sleep every night since then.

Goddamn bitch, she’d haunted him all the way here to the Oklahoma Territory. How much longer did she intend to haunt him?

When Dan Shaye and his sons rode into Vernon, Texas, a week after leaving Epitaph they were all bearded except for James, whose cheeks had only been able to sprout some fuzz during that time.

The young men had learned a lot from their father during that week: much about tracking, like reading sign. They now knew that when you were tracking someone, the evidence of their passing was not just on the ground, but in broken branches, as well, or places where branches and brush had been gathered for a fire. They had also learned about the proper care of a horse while on the trail—how important it was to walk a horse at times, resting it but not necessarily stopping your progress—and of making and breaking camp. James had been taught to cook by his mother, but on this trip he’d learned a thing or two about trail coffee from his father.

They’d learned about shooting too. Every day
after they ate, Dan Shaye had schooled his boys on the proper use of a handgun and a rifle. Thomas, though a fair hand with a pistol, had never drawn or fired the weapon at another man. Shaye taught them where to shoot a man to be sure to bring him down, and what to do when facing a man who was better than they were with a gun. He explained that it was not the fastest man with a gun who survived, but the most accurate.

After one particular lesson, James had said, “But, Pa, that wouldn’t be fair.”

“You want to be fair, boy?” Shaye had asked him. “Or alive?”

The answer was easy for all three boys.

Along the trail the three young men had time alone with their own thoughts, both on horseback and at night, when they were camped. Shaye made them all stand watch, made sure they all knew not to stare into the fire and destroy their night vision, but there was plenty of time for introspection.

Thomas was normally a quiet person, so introspection was nothing new to him. Growing up, he often went off alone to shoot targets and think. He wanted very much to be like his father, even though his physical resemblance was to his mother. At six feet tall, he was a slender 170, and he had a good eye and fast hands. He’d asked his father on more than one occasion to
make him a deputy, but his mother had always stepped in and vetoed the idea.

“I worry day and night about your father,” she’d say, “I’m not going to do the same with you or any of my boys.”

Those first seven nights on the trail, Thomas thought about those words, and now it wasn’t any of them who was dead, but her. He felt guilty that it had taken the death of his mother to get him the job he wanted—deputy to his father, whom he considered not only a great lawman, but a great man as well.

The middle brother, Matthew, was not much for thinking. At six-five, he was three inches taller than his father, but he resembled him more than either of the other two boys. He had his father’s breadth of chest and shoulders, and was narrow in the waist, the way Dan Shaye had been before he moved into his forties. Now forty-eight, Shaye had thickened somewhat, but still had his power, though less than his middle son’s, and for that he was proud rather than envious.

While on the trail, Matthew had done some thinking, and had posed many questions to himself. He would follow his father to hell and back, but he wondered what was going to happen when it was all over.

He had no doubt that he and his brothers would follow their father and be successful in
killing the men who had taken their mother from them. But what then?

Would his father go back to being sheriff of Epitaph?

Would he and his brothers stay on as deputies?

Would they live in the same house?

He knew there was danger in what they were doing, but he had so much confidence in his father that he felt no fear.

In his father’s eyes, this was not a good thing.

James loved his father, but he idolized his oldest brother, the way many younger brothers did. Like his older brother, he resembled his mother more than his father, and so when the four men were together, Shaye and Matthew looked like big hulking brutes, while Thomas and James were slender and graceful. James was impressed with the way Thomas handled a gun, and hoped that someday he’d be able to do the same. During the target shooting they’d done while on the trail, he had begun to display certain natural abilities with a handgun, but he still had a long way to go to match Thomas—and they both had far to go to be ready to face another man with a gun.

James missed his mother terribly, but felt that he was on a great adventure with his father and brothers, and he hoped that the adventure would not only continue, but escalate.

Like his brother Matthew, James felt no fear.

Thomas, on the other hand, was worried about his father and his two brothers, was afraid that something might happen to them. But he worried little about himself. For someone who had never faced another man with a gun, he was inordinately confident.

For his part, Dan Shaye worried about all his sons. Thomas was too confident, Matthew too brave, and James too headstrong and adventurous. He knew that all of these qualities would have to be tempered with his own experience—and yet could he keep a tight rein on his boys
and
his own rage?

By the time they rode into Vernon, Texas, all of the Shaye men had had their share of deep thoughts. Also, though they hadn’t met the Langer gang, they came upon their trail in two other towns, which told them they were on the right track.

“How long we stayin’, Pa?” James asked.

“How long do you want to stay, James?”

“Well,” the younger Shaye said, rubbing his face, “long enough for a shave, maybe. I’m startin’ to itch.”

Matthew, who had the heaviest beard of the four, reached out and touched James’s face.

“You got nothin’ but peach fuzz there, little brother,” he said, laughing. “Why don’t you wait until you got a man’s full growth of beard before you complain?”

James brushed Matthew’s tree trunk arm away from him, while Thomas had a good laugh.

“I have to talk to the local law,” Shaye said, “and it’s a few hours from dark. We’ll stay the night, and you boys can all get a shave and a bath.”

“A bath!” Matthew said, appalled. “Why would we want to take a bath, Pa?”

“Because, Matthew,” James said, “some of us smell like a goat.”

Matthew squinted his eyes at his younger brother and said, “You wouldn’t be talkin’ about me, would you, little brother?”

“You all smell like goats,” Shaye said, “and so do I. Take your horses to the livery, be sure they’re fed and bedded down, and then get us two rooms at the hotel. Thomas, you’ll be in a room with me.”

“Yes, Pa.”

“And you’re in charge of these two,” Shaye went on. “After you get the rooms, see that they’re bathed, shaved, and that they keep out of trouble.”

“Yes, Pa…. Pa?”

“What?”

“Do you know the local lawman here?”

“Yes,” Shay said. “He’s an old friend of mine, name of Sam Torrence.”

“I heard you mention him. Weren’t you deputies together?”

“Years ago, boy,” Shaye said, “a lot of years ago.”

“Want us to take your horse, Pa?” James asked.

“I’ll take care of my animal,” Shaye said, “you boys take care of your own.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll meet you back at the hotel in two hours.”

“Two hours?” Matthew complained. “That’s barely time to see to our horses and have a bath and a shave.”

“And no time to get into trouble,” Shaye said. “That’s about what I had in mind, boy.”

When Dan Shaye entered the sheriff’s office, the man behind the desk looked up from the wanted posters he was studying, frowned just for a moment, then smiled and stood up.

“Dan Shaye!” Sam Torrence said, extending his hand. “What the hell are you doing in Vernon? I didn’t think you ever left South Texas anymore.”

“Hello, Sam,” Shaye said. He approached the desk and shook hands with the tall, slender man whose hair had gone completely gray since the last time Shaye had seen him.

“It’s good to see you, Dan,” Torrence said. “What brings you my way?”

“The Langer gang.”

“I heard they hit a bank down south,” Torrence said. “That was you?”

Shaye nodded, then said, “They killed my wife during their escape.”

“Ah, Jesus…” Torrence’s face went pale. “Mary…”

“Rode her down in the street, Sam.”

“Christ,” Torrence said. “Sit down, Dan. I was gonna offer you some coffee but this is better.”

He brought a bottle of whiskey out of his desk drawer, then fetched two coffee cups from the potbellied stove in the corner. He poured a shot into each and handed one to Shaye.

“Here’s to Mary,” he said.

“To Mary.”

They both drank, and when Torrence reached across the desk to pour again, Shaye placed his cup on the desk, upside down.

“One’s enough for me.”

“Not for me,” Torrence said. He poured another shot and downed it. “You on their trail?”

Shaye nodded.

“With a posse.”

“My boys.”

“Your…”

“Sons,” Shaye said. “Three of ’em.”

“That’s right,” Torrence said, snapping his fingers, “I knew you and Mary had three sons. How old are they?”

“Twenty-five, twenty-three, and nineteen. I deputized them.”

“Are they experienced?”

“No,” Shaye said, “but I had no choice. No
one else volunteered, my deputies quit. Besides, they deserve to come. Langer and his boys killed their ma.”

“We’re talkin’ about Ethan Langer, right?”

“Yeah,” Shaye said. “Aaron hit a bank in South Dakota about the same time.”

“So you’re trackin’ them north…through here?”

“You tell me, Sam.”

Torrence sat back in his chair, which creaked. “They ain’t been through here, Dan,” he said, shaking his head. “I’d know if they had.”

Shaye stood up. “We’ll be here overnight, Sam, and then we’ll be moving out. If you have anything you want to tell me, you’ll be able to find me.”

“Dan,” Torrence said, “I’m tellin’ you—”

“It’s good to see you, Sam.”

Shaye turned and walked out of the office. He knew that Torrence’s eyes were on his back. He stopped just outside the door, in case the other lawman came after him right away.

The last time Shaye saw Torrence had been years ago, before he moved on to wear the sheriff’s badge in Epitaph. They had both been in Wichita, and Shaye had caught Torrence with his hand out. All these years later there was no reason to think the man had changed. A lawman with his hand out could live very well, and Shaye
had the feeling Torrence was doing all right for himself in Vernon. However, if he had taken a dime from Ethan Langer and was covering up for him, he would regret it.

In a nearby bathhouse, Thomas Shaye was drying off, while both Matthew and James were still languishing in tubs of what was now tepid water.

“Hey, this ain’t half bad,” Matthew said.

“I can see why,” Thomas said. “You’ve got enough mud and dirt floating in that water to satisfy any pig.”

“You sayin’ I’m a pig, Thomas?” Matthew asked.

Their mother had given them names from the Bible, and had never shortened them. They were forever Thomas, Matthew, and James, never Tommy, Matt, or Jimmy.

“Would I call you that, Matthew?” Thomas asked. “I’m just commentin’ on your dirty water.”

Matthew looked down at his bathwater and made a face. “Yuck!” he said, and stood up quickly.

“Mine’s still nice,” James said.

“You’ll turn into a prune, James,” Thomas said. “Time to get out.”

James stood up as well, and Thomas tossed them both towels. Matthew’s muscles rippled as he dried himself, while James’s ribs showed, almost painfully.

“Ain’t we heard the name Torrence before?” Matthew asked Thomas.

“Yes, we have.”

“I don’t remember it.”

“You’re too young,” Thomas said. “We heard Pa tell Ma a story about a lawman who took money.”

“Torrence?” James asked.

“That’s the name.”

“If he’s a crooked lawman, why would Pa be friends with him?”

“He used to be friends with him,” Matthew said. “He ain’t no more.”

“Then why talk to him?” the younger brother asked.

“He’s the law here,” Thomas said. “We got to see if the Langer gang has passed through here.”

“If he’s crooked, maybe he took money from them too,” James said. “Maybe he’ll lie.”

“That’s true,” Thomas said, “but Pa knows that. Come on, get dressed. We got to meet Pa at the hotel.”

“You think he’s been talkin’ to the sheriff all this time?” James asked.

“Probably not,” Thomas said, pulling on his
boots. “He’s probably been walkin’ around town tryin’ to find out if the gang was here.”

“And if the sheriff lied to him,” Matthew said.

Thomas was the first to finish dressing, so he said, “I’ll wait for you boys outside.”

“What do you think Pa will do if he finds out the sheriff lied?” James asked.

“Whomp him,” Matthew said, “or let me do it.”

“Whomp the law?”

“Pa’s the law,” Matthew said,

“Not here, Matthew,” James said, “and for sure not once we leave Texas.” James pinned on his deputy’s badge. “None of us will be.”

Matthew pinned on his badge as well, and stood tall with it. “We’re the law as long as Pa says we are.”

James only nodded and pulled on his boots.

They joined Thomas outside the bathhouse, and the three walked together toward the hotel. They saw their father standing in front, waiting for them.

“Has he talked to you, Thomas?” James asked.

“About Ma?”

“Yes.”

“No,” Thomas said. “He’s keepin’ it all inside.”

“That can’t be good,” Matthew said.

“It’s not gonna be good for the Langer gang when we catch up to them,” Thomas said.

Shaye felt his chest swell with pride as his three sons walked toward him. They were washed and clean shaven, and though their clothes still bore the dirt of the trail, he knew their mother would have been proud as well.

He had intended to talked to them about the death of their mother, but found himself unable to do so. There was much to be done, and he wanted to hold onto his anger, his rage, until he caught up with Ethan Langer and his men. He was afraid that talking things out with his boys might drain that away, and he needed the full force of it to do what he had to do.

He stepped down off the boardwalk as his sons reached him. “I’ve never seen you boys looking so clean,” he said. “Matthew, you’re looking positively pink.”

“You shoulda seen the water, Pa,” Matthew said.

“James,” Shaye said. “Clean shaven, I see.”

“Yes, Pa.”

“Well done,” Shaye said. “I hope it itches less.”

“Pa,” Thomas said, “what did you find out from the sheriff?”

“What didn’t I find out from the sheriff?” Shaye said. “Come on, I’ll buy you boys a drink.”