Leaving Epitaph (4 page)

They walked to the nearest saloon—the Lucky Ace—and Shaye told his sons about his conversation with Sheriff Sam Torrence.

“You weren’t exactly straight with us when you said he was an old friend of yours, Pa,” Thomas said.

“No, I wasn’t, Thomas,” Shaye said. “I wasn’t sure you boys would remember the name.”

“I didn’t,” James said. “Thomas and Matthew did.”

“From a long time ago,” Matthew said.

“Well, apparently Sheriff Torrence hasn’t changed much,” Shaye said. “Fella at the livery told me the Langer gang went through here three days ago.”

“Three days?” James said. “We’re that close?”

“We didn’t ask,” Matthew said, frowning.

“Well, I did,” Shaye said. “I took my horse in
there right after you did, and I asked him. I also paid him.”

“You sure he was givin’ you good information, Pa?” James asked.

“James, I trust his information more than I trust the sheriff’s.”

“What are we gonna do about the sheriff?” Thomas asked.

“Whomp ’im,” Matthew said.

“Not quite, Matthew,” Shaye said. “The sheriff still has time to tell us something.”

“Like what?” James asked.

“Like what direction the Langer gang went.”

“Ain’t they goin’ north?” Matthew asked. “I thought they was goin’ north.”

“We hope they’re still going north,” Shaye said. “Let’s see what the sheriff tries to tell us.”

“Why do you think he’ll tell us anything?” James asked.

Shaye looked around. The saloon was pretty busy but they’d been able to secure a corner table. It didn’t appear that anyone was paying attention to them.

“You think Langer left somebody behind?” Thomas asked.

“That’s good thinking, Thomas,” Shaye said. “Yeah, I was wondering if he might have left a man behind. Nobody seems to be paying us much mind, though.”

Shaye was sitting so he could see the whole room. He gave his attention back to his sons.

“To answer your question, James,” he said, “if the sheriff took money from Langer, it was to misdirect us. My guess is he’ll come looking for me in a little while to do just that.”

“And then we whomp ’im?” Matthew asked.

Shaye smiled at his middle son. “Be patient, Matthew,” he said. “Maybe you’ll get your chance.”

Shaye made sure that he and his boys nursed only a beer or two, so that when Sheriff Sam Torrence came walking through the bat-wing doors, they would all be sober.

“Here he is,” he said. “You boys take a walk over to the bar and let me talk to him.”

Matthew and James stood up and obeyed immediately. Thomas hesitated.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay, Pa?”

“I’ll call you if I need you, Thomas. Don’t worry.”

Thomas cast a look Torrence’s way, then turned and went to join his brothers at the bar.

Torrence walked over and joined Shaye at the table. “Three good-looking boys, Dan,” he said, sitting down.

“Thanks.”

“That big one looks just like you, only half again.”

“The other two favor their ma.”

“I can see that.”

“You want a beer?”

“Not while I’m on duty, Dan,” Sam Torrence said. “I’m makin’ my rounds.”

Shaye held back a laugh. “You come over here to tell me something, then?”

“I asked around,” Torrence said. “Found out somethin’ you should know.”

“Like what?”

“Like the Langer gang is east of here.”

“East? You sure?”

“That’s what I heard.”

“What would they be doing in New Mexico?”

“Checkin’ out another bank?”

“No,” Shaye said, “it’s too soon. They have a pattern. Ethan hits a bank, Aaron hits a bank, and then they meet up.”

“Maybe they’re breakin’ their pattern?”

“Not likely,” Shaye said. “There’s something else more likely.”

“Like what?”

Shaye looked over at the bar and saw Thomas watching him. He nodded to his oldest son, who nudged his brothers. They all came walking over.

“Sam, it’s more likely you’re lying to me,” Shaye said.

Torrence looked up at the three young men standing around him, then back at Shaye. “Hey, Dan—”

“You’re going to get up and walk out of here with us, Sam,” Shaye said.

“Hey, hey, Dan—”

“If you make a fuss, I’ll kill you.”

Thomas and Matthew closed in on the lawman so he was in tight quarters. “And don’t reach for your gun,” Thomas said.

“You boys realize you’re playin’ with the law here?” Torrence asked, looking up at them.

“My pa’s the law,” Matthew said. “If he says to kill you, we’ll kill you.”

Torrence looked across the table at Shaye.

“What can I tell you, Sam?” he asked. “They’re good boys.” A steely look came over his face. “Get up.”

They walked the sheriff out of the crowded saloon without anyone paying them any mind.

“Where to, Pa?” Thomas asked when they were outside.

“Let’s go to his office,” Shaye said. He prodded the lawman. “Lead the way.”

Torrence led the four Shaye men to his office, which he unlocked.

“No deputies?” Shaye asked him.

“It’s a quiet town.”

They went inside.

“Lock the door, Thomas,” Shaye said.

Matthew removed the sheriff’s gun from his holster and shoved him across the room. The man staggered, banged his hip against his desk and righted himself.

“This ain’t right, Dan,” he said. “You got no jurisdiction, here.”

“See these three boys?” Shaye asked. “They
give me all the jurisdiction I need, Sam. They’ll do anything I tell them.”

“You boys are gonna be in trouble if you keep doin’ what your pa is tellin’ you to do,” Torrence warned.

Matthew turned and looked at Shaye. “Can I whomp ’im, Pa?”

“Go ahead, Matthew,” Shaye said. “Whomp him good.”

“Wha—” Torrence said, but Matthew took a step forward and smashed his fist into the man’s face, cutting him off and knocking him back over the desk.

Torrence tried to get to his feet, a smear of blood across his face, as Matthew went around the desk to get him. Matthew hauled him back to his feet and hit him again, this time in the stomach, then straightened him up and hit him in the face again. The lawman went tumbling back and fell over his chair.

As Matthew bent over to pick him up again, Torrence yelled, “Dan, no more. Call ’im off!”

“Matthew,” Shaye said.

But Matthew’s own rage over the death of his mother had the blood roaring in his ears. He couldn’t hear his father as he reached for Torrence and once again pulled him to his feet.

“Matthew!” Shaye shouted, but it did no good. Matthew hit Torrence again, and then again.

“Boys!”

Thomas and James rushed forward to grab their brother’s arms. They succeeded in pulling him off the lawman, who fell to the floor. Matthew was about to shrug them off when Shaye got in his face and shouted, “Matthew! That’s enough!”

He stared at his father, swallowed hard, then said, “I whomped ’im, Pa.”

“You sure did, Matthew,” Shaye said. “You whomped him good. Let go of your brother, boys.”

Thomas and James released Matthew, who stepped away from the fallen sheriff. Shaye turned and crouched over the fallen man, who was bleeding profusely now from cut lips and broken teeth.

“Sam? Can you hear me?”

“Uh—” Torrence said. “Juth keep him away….” He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and stared down at the blood.

“Sam, which way did the Langer gang go?”

Torrence looked up at Shaye and tried to focus his eyes.

“Come on, Sam, stay with me,” Shaye said. “Don’t make me give you back to Matthew.”

“Wha—Wha—”

“Which way did the Langer gang go?” Shaye asked again.

“N-North.”

“Into Oklahoma Territory?”

Torrence nodded. “Yeth.”

“They’re not east of here?”

“No.”

“That was a lie.”

“Yeth.”

Shaye straightened up and walked away from the man, away from the urge to kill him. Not only was he a disgrace to his badge, but he’d been trying to help the gang get away.

“Put him in his chair.”

Thomas and James picked the sheriff up and did as they were told, then backed away. For a moment it looked like the local lawman would slide out of the chair again, but at the last minute he put his hands on his desk to steady himself.

Shaye kept his back turned for a few more moments until he had regained his composure, then turned and approached the desk. He leaned on it until his face was inches from Torrence’s face.

“Two things, Sam. Are you listening?”

“Uh-huh.”

“If we come back this way and you’re still wearing that badge, I’ll kill you. Understand?”

“Uh, yeah…”

“And if I find out you tipped off Langer, sent him a telegram, whatever, I’ll kill you. Got it?”

“I…got it….”

Shaye turned and looked at his sons. “Get your horses, boys,” he said. “We’re leaving now.”

The point of leaving Vernon immediately was so that Sheriff Torrence wouldn’t get brave on them. They stopped and camped just outside of town, because Shaye didn’t think Torrence would actually leave Vernon to chase them. He was crooked, he took money, but he wasn’t a killer, and to keep his crookedness from the townspeople, he’d have to kill all four of them.

They ate a dinner of bacon and beans prepared by James and then Shaye said, “Thomas, James, why don’t you go and check on the horses, and find more wood. I want to talk to your brother.”

“Sure, Pa,” Thomas said.

“Talk to him ’bout what?” James asked, but Thomas led him away from the fire.

“I know what you’re gonna say, Pa,” Matthew said before Shaye could begin to speak.

“And what’s that, Matthew?”

“I got carried away when I was whompin’ the sheriff.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I just got so mad,” Matthew said, balling his hands into fists and pressing them together, “thinkin’ about him tryin’ to help the gang get away from us.”

“I know, Matthew,” Shaye said. He reached across the fire and put his hand over his son’s fists. “I was mad too. I wanted to kill him.”

“You did?”

Shaye nodded.

“You didn’t show it.”

“I kept control of my emotions, Matthew,” Shaye said. “That’s not an easy thing to do.”

Gently, Shaye was able to open his son’s hands so they were no longer clenched tightly.

“But we have to try,” he went on, “or our anger will get the better of us. It’ll eat us up inside before we have a chance to finish what we started. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Pa.”

“Your mother was very proud of you and your brothers,” Shaye said, “of the men you had become. Let’s not do anything that would shame her, okay?”

“Okay, Pa.”

“Now, why don’t you go and help your brothers.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shaye poured himself another cup of coffee as Matthew went off to find his brothers. His own anger had almost boiled over in the sheriff’s office. He wondered if his sons would have had to pull him off of Sam Torrence if it hadn’t been Matthew.

His boys probably didn’t have any idea how tightly strung they were. Matthew had been the first to break, but he could see it in all three of them, just as he knew it was in himself. They were all like bowstrings that were about to snap, and it was his job to keep it from happening.

Perhaps the one thing he did not truly realize was just how close he actually was to breaking. With the responsibility of not only finding his wife’s killers, but keeping his sons safe and in check, there was more and more pressure on him. A man who prided himself on his self-control, even he did not know what would happen when he finally lost it.

“What’d he want to talk to you about?” James asked Matthew while they searched for wood. Thomas had gone to check the horses, even though he knew his father had just given it to them as busy work.

“That’s between me and Pa,” Matthew said.

James straightened up, holding an armful of wood, and faced his brother. “It was about that
whompin’ you gave the sheriff, wasn’t it? You woulda killed him if we hadn’ta stopped you.”

“I was mad,” Matthew said.

“I know,” Jame replied. “I’m mad too. We all are. I hope Pa lets me whomp somebody before this is over.”

“Little brother,” Matthew said, “me and Thomas would have to hold somebody still for you to whomp ’em.”

“You think so?” James stuck his jaw out belligerently. “I can handle myself, ya know.”

“Yeah, James,” Matthew said, “I know.”

Thomas returned to the fire first and accepted the cup of coffee his father held out to him.

“You’re the oldest, Thomas,” Shaye said. “I need you to keep an eye on your brothers.”

“I will, Pa.”

“I swore on your mother’s grave that I would try to keep you boys safe. Taking you along on this hunt was not the way to do that.”

“We woulda followed you anyway.”

“I figured as much.”

They sat quietly for a few moments and then Thomas said, “Pa?”

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Of course, Thomas.”

“You ain’t talked much about Ma. Don’t you wanna talk about her?”

“I do, Thomas,” Shaye said, “and I will. We’ll talk a lot about her, but not until after this is all over. Is that all right?”

“Sure, Pa,” Thomas said, “that’s all right.”

“Thank you, son.”

Ethan Langer woke with a start, a scream sounding in his ears. It wasn’t his own scream, for as he looked around the camp, no one was stirring or paying him any mind. He laid back down on his back and waited for his breathing to slow. It was that woman again, only hearing the scream was odd, because he recalled that when he’d run her down she hadn’t made a sound.

Or had she?

Was he recalling her scream only in his dream?

No, he was sure she hadn’t screamed at the time. The look on her face had been one of pure shock. She hadn’t even had time to scream before she was trampled beneath his horse’s hooves, and then those of the horses behind him.

Ethan wasn’t sure why he kept dreaming about her. She was the first woman he’d ever killed, maybe that was it, but killing had never bothered him before. Why now? She hadn’t been
real young, but she had been pretty. He’d noticed her even before they hit the bank. She’d been across the street in the dress shop, but then he lost sight of her when they went into the bank. The next time he saw her, he was riding her down.

Someone stirred. He looked over and saw Petry at the fire, making a pot of coffee. He needed to get up and move around. He wished Aaron was there, but they were days, maybe weeks, from meeting up with his older brother. Besides, what could Aaron tell him? He’d probably make fun of him for dreaming about a woman he’d killed. Aaron had killed lots of people and, so far as he knew, not one of them haunted his dreams.

No, he couldn’t tell Aaron about this, or anyone else for that matter. This was something he was going to have to deal with himself.

“Coffee’s almost ready,” Petry said to him when he approached the fire.

“Good.”

“Sleep okay?”

“Fine,” Ethan said. “Why would you ask me that?”

Petry shrugged and said, “I’m just makin’ conversation.”

“Well, talk about somethin’ else.”

“You think we got a posse after us from Epitaph?”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Ethan asked. “We robbed a bank. Don’t they always send a posse after us when we do that? They won’t cross into the territories, though. They got no jurisdiction.”

“What about that woman we killed?”

“What about her?” Ethan snapped.

“Won’t they cross the border ’cause of her?”

“Even if they do, they got no authority,” Ethan said. “And if they catch up with us, we’ll do what we always do.”

“Take care of ’em?”

“That’s right,” Ethan said. “We’ll take care of ’em.”

Petry poured out a cup of coffee and handed it to his boss, who took it without thanks.

“I was just thinkin’ about Epitaph—” he began, but Ethan cut him off.

“Jesus Christ, can’t you talk about nothin’ else?”

His voice was so loud he woke the rest of the camp. The men sat up or rolled out of their bedrolls and looked around to see what all the ruckus was about.

“It’s time for all you sonsofbitches to get up!” Ethan shouted. “We got to get a move on.”

“What about breakfast?” somebody asked.

“Fuck breakfast,” Ethan said. “Have some coffee and get your damn horses saddled.”

He stalked away from the fire with his coffee.

Red Hackett walked to the fire and took a cup of coffee from Terry Petry.

“What’s eatin’ him?” he asked, nodding toward Ethan.

“I don’t know,” Petry said. “He’s been actin’ real peculiar since we left Epitaph.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Hackett said. “He ain’t been sleepin’ real good and he’s real short-tempered.”

“How can you tell?” Nick Taylor asked, coming up behind them. “He’s always short-tempered, far as I can see.”

“You ain’t rode with him as long as we have,” Petry said. “This is different.”

“Well,” Taylor said, “he killed that woman.”

“We all killed her,” Petry said. “We rode her down.”

“Stupid bitch got in the way,” Hackett said.

“Yeah, but Ethan’s horse was the first one to ride over her,” Taylor said. “He killed her. He ever killed a woman before?”

Petry and Hackett exchanged a glance.

“Can’t say I know,” Hackett replied.

“Naw, that can’t be it,” Petry said. “Ethan’s killed lots of people. Him and Aaron have killed more people than the rest of us put together.”

“Yeah,” Taylor said, reaching for some coffee, “but has he ever killed a woman? Makes a difference to some men.”

Maybe, Terry Petry thought, but did it make a difference to Ethan Langer?