Leaving Epitaph (20 page)

There was still enough of summer in the air that it didn’t grow cold at night. This made keeping James warm easier. Shaye, although committed to sleeping, did not sleep well. He was too worried about James, and about the fire. Consequently, when James awoke that morning, Shaye had breakfast ready for him.

“Pa,” James said as Shaye handed him a plate of beans and beef jerky, “this is holdin’ us up. Langer is gettin’ farther and farther away.”

“Maybe not.”

“What do you mean?”

“Morales wasn’t dead when I found him,” Shaye said. “He told me Aaron was waiting for him in Red Cloud, Nebraska, just across the border.”

“You think he’s really gonna be there? Why would Morales believe that?”

“I don’t know,” Shaye said. “He’s dead and
we can’t ask him, but it’s due north of here, so that’s where I’m going.”

“You?” James asked. “You mean we.”

“No,” Shaye said, “I’ll travel faster without you, James.”

“You’re wounded too.”

“My wound won’t make sitting a saddle hard,” Shaye said. “Look, if Aaron is in Red Cloud, I’ve got to get there fast. You’ll have to stay here until I come back for you.”

“Pa—”

“If I don’t come back,” Shaye went on, “head back to the last town we passed. What was it—”

“You’ll come back,” James said. “I know you will.”

“If I don’t, just head back to that last town and see a doctor,” Shaye said. “Then find your brothers. Understand?”

“I understand, Pa,” James said. “But you’ll be back.”

“I think so too, son,” Shaye said. “I think so too.”

Later, Shaye saddled his horse and left all his supplies with James.

“Don’t try to leave here too soon,” he warned his son. “You open that wound and I’m not here to help you, you could bleed to death. I come back and find you dead, I’m going to be real angry with you.”

“Don’t worry, Pa,” James said. “I’ll be fine.”

“Keep your gun close, keep the fire high at night.”

“Do you really think Langer will wait for Morales?” James asked. “After all, he has both their shares of money.”

“They’ve been riding together for a long time,” Shaye said. “I just have to hope that means something to Aaron.”

“Then get goin’, Pa,” James said. “You’re wastin’ valuable time.”

“I’ll see you in a few days, at most.”

“Good luck.”

“You too, son.”

He hated to do it, but Shaye finally gave his horse his heels and left camp at a gallop.

Aaron Langer was sitting in a saloon in Red Cloud, a small town about twenty miles inside of Nebraska. Beneath his chair were the saddlebags filled with money. Aaron was a big enough, mean enough looking man that no one in the saloon wanted to give him a second look. He sat alone with a bottle of whiskey and a deadly glare. Some of the men in the saloon even knew who he was and didn’t want any part of him.

Aaron wasn’t sure why he was waiting in Red Cloud for Morales. He had all the money, didn’t he? He didn’t need anybody, did he? Hadn’t he just cut his own brother loose?

But when it came right down to it, Morales
was closer to him than Ethan ever was. And riding alone…well, that just wasn’t something he had ever really done. There was a time in his life when he thought his partner for life might be Danny Shaye, but that didn’t happen. Shaye got religion. Oh, not the way his brother Vincent had, but he got married, and sometimes that was even worse than getting religion.

So then he hooked up with Morales, and that partnership actually worked, and lasted. Not that Aaron ever told Morales he considered him his partner. They both seemed to have settled into their roles, though, and both had profited by it.

Like now, with the money that was under his chair.

Of course, if Morales never showed up, that would be okay too. The money would more than make up for it, and he could always find a new partner, couldn’t he? He’d give the Mexican until tomorrow morning, and then he’d be on his way.

He looked up as a big brunette in a low-cut blue dress approached him. She had a hard-looking face but a big, soft-looking body.

“Hello, handsome,” she said. “Lookin’ for company?”

“Company’s just what I could use, honey.”

“Down here,” she asked, “or upstairs?”

He grinned, forgetting Morales and Shaye. He grabbed his bottle and his saddlebags and said, “Upstairs sounds just fine.”

Shaye rode into Red Cloud on a tired horse. He didn’t even know if he’d ruined the animal, but he’d find that out later. There were other, more important things to worry about.

He encountered the livery as soon as he rode in, and decided not only to leave his horse there, but get his questions answered. The local lawman might take up too much of his time.

“Help ya?” the liveryman asked. He was long and lean, with a spring in his step. He wore sixty years on his frame real well. “Lawman, are ya?”

“That’s right,” Shaye said, “from Texas. Looking for a man. A man with two sets of saddlebags.”

“You talkin’ about Aaron Langer?”

“You know him?”

“I seen him before,” the man said. “Knew somebody’d come lookin’ for him when he rode in.”

“What’s your name?”

“Amos.”

“Do you know where he is, Amos?”

“Everybody in town knows where he is,” the man said. “Over to the saloon.”

“Which one?”

“Ain’t got but one.”

“Got a lawman here?”

“Not much of one,” the man replied. “He’s been hidin’ in his office since Langer arrived.”

“Okay,” Shaye said. “Thanks.”

“You gonna arrest ’im?”

“That’s the plan.”

“He’s been upstairs with Trudy all day,” Amos said. “Havin’ bottles of whiskey sent up, and some food. Guess mebbe they’re wearin’ each other out up there.”

“I’m much obliged for the information, Amos.”

“Just doin’ my part for law and order,” Amos said. “That sumbitch been ridin’ roughshod over these parts for years, ain’t he?”

“That he has.”

“He wanted in Nebraska? I ain’t heard.”

“I don’t know,” Shaye said, “but that doesn’t really matter.”

Amos’s eyebrows went up. “You ain’t gonna arrest him,” the older man said, “yer gonna kill ’im. You got no authority here.”

“Amos,” Shaye said, touching his gun, “I got all the authority I need right here.”

Shaye walked through town and found the only saloon with no trouble. It didn’t even have a name. Folks gave him curious looks as he went, for his stride was purposeful and the look on his face said he meant business.

He entered the saloon and found it about half full. In a town that size, that was about as full as it got.

“What’ll ya ha—” the bartender started to ask him, but Shaye cut him off.

“Which room are they in?”

“Who?”

“Aaron Langer and Trudy.”

The man frowned. “Well, Trudy’s had a fella up there with her the whole day, but I didn’t know—”

“Oh, shut up, Ed,” another man at the bar said. “By now everybody knows that’s Langer.”

“Which room?” Shaye asked again.

“Head of the stairs,” the bartender said. “First room. You gonna kill ’im?”

Shaye turned and headed for the stairs without another word.

“If you kill him, don’t make a mess!” the bartender shouted after him.

Upstairs, Aaron Langer was too busy continuing to satisfy a Herculean appetite for both whiskey and sex to hear anything from downstairs. The saddlebags full of money were hanging on the bedpost, along with his gun belt. Trudy was sitting on top of him, dangling her big breasts in his face and pouring whiskey from the bottle into his mouth. When the door slammed open from a vicious kick, Aaron bucked Trudy off so hard she fell from the bed. He sat up and started reaching for his gun, but stopped when he saw Shaye standing in the doorway.

“Daniels,” he said. “I knew it was you.”

“It’s Dan,” Shaye said, “Sheriff Dan Shaye, of Epitaph, Texas.”

“Yeah, I know,” Aaron said. He looked at the naked woman cowering on the floor. “You sort of caught me in the middle of somethin’.”

“Careless of you, Aaron,” Shaye said. “I
don’t remember you being this careless.” He looked at the woman too. “Get your clothes and get out.”

Now that the shooting had not started right away, Trudy got sort of brave. “He ain’t paid me!”

“You’ll be paid,” Shaye said. “Go downstairs and wait.”

“But he—”

“Go!”

She gathered her clothes up and started to put them on hastily as she ran out the door.

“I didn’t even know she wanted to be paid,” Aaron said. “I thought she liked me.”

“Nobody’s ever liked you, Aaron.”

“Yeah, maybe not…why didn’t you come in shootin’, Daniels?”

“It’s Dan!”

“Okay, okay…Dan.”

“I knew the girl was in here.”

“You ain’t even got your gun out,” Aaron said. “I figure I got more than an even chance here.”

“Make a move, then.”

Aaron seemed to relax. “Let’s talk a bit,” he said. “Catch up on old times.”

“There’s no old times to catch up on between you and me, Aaron,” Shaye said. “Your brother came to my town, robbed the bank, and killed my wife.”

“Your wife?” Aaron asked, surprised. “Jesus,
he’s a bigger idiot than I thought, but what’s that got to do with me?”

“He learned everything he knows from you.”

“You got deputies with you, Shay—Sheriff? You had some in Salina, I bet.”

“My sons,” Shaye said. “Three of them.”

“Where are they now?”

“They’re tracking Ethan.”

“So you came for me alone?”

“That’s right.”

“I’m sorry about your wife, Sheriff,” Aaron said, “but I still don’t think that had nothin’ to do with me. By the way, what happened to Morales? You kill him?”

“That’s right.”

“Too bad,” Aaron said. “Me and him rode together a long time. I thought you and me were gonna ride together a long time, once.”

“I got smart.”

“That’s what you call it,” Aaron said. “Wearin’ a badge for forty a month and found don’t strike me as a smart move. Musta been your wife’s idea.”

“Don’t talk about my wife.”

“You ain’t married no more, Dan,” Aaron said, “you’re a widower now. Toss the badge out the window. I got enough money in these saddlebags for two.”

“No deal, Aaron.”

“You takin’ me in?”

“I doubt it.”

“Gonna kill me for what my brother did?”

“Why not?”

“You got to be a hard man, didn’t you?”

“Not so hard,” Shaye said, “until lately.”

“Yeah,” Aaron said, scratching his hairy chest, “losin’ a wife’ll do that to ya, I guess.”

“Enough talk, Aaron.”

“Whataya want me to do? Go for my gun while my gun belt is on the bedpost?”

“That’s better than the alternative.”

“Which is what?”

“I shoot you right where you are.”

“How would that look? An officer of the law shootin’ a man while he’s naked in bed?”

“I’ll put your gun in your dead hand,” Shaye said. “It won’t make a difference, though. You’ll still be dead.”

Aaron’s face went dead as he realized Shaye meant it.

“You’re the one who said you had a better than even chance,” Shaye reminded him.

“I hope my brother kills your sons,” Aaron said cruelly, “and I hope his horse caved in your wife’s—”

Shaye drew, surprising Aaron, who thought he’d be able to throw the man off so he could beat him to the draw. Suddenly panicked, Aaron grabbed for his gun. He didn’t know that Shaye let him get to it, allowed him to draw it before he
fired his first shot. The bullet hit Aaron in the side as he was still twisted around from reaching for the gun. He grunted, but he was a bull of a man and it would take more than one shot to put him down. He kept coming around, gun in hand, and Shaye fired again. This time the bullet took him under the chin, and there was no need for a third shot.

Shaye came downstairs with both sets of saddlebags on his shoulders.

“He dead?” Ed asked.

Shaye walked to Trudy, who was dressed but disheveled. He’d already taken some money from the saddlebags upstairs, and now he shoved it into her hands. It was two handfuls and he didn’t even know how much he was giving her.

“That cover the day?” he asked.

“Thanks, mister.”

He headed for the door.

“Hey,” Ed shouted, “is he dead?”

Shaye kept going. He figured if he got a fresh horse from the livery and rode all night, he could get back to James by tomorrow afternoon. If he didn’t kill the horse, maybe late afternoon. As long as James didn’t try to move, he was probably fine.

But there was still Thomas and Matthew to worry about.

“Hey,” the bartender shouted, “if he’s dead, you can’t just leave ’im there.”

Shaye was already outside so nobody in the saloon heard him say, “Just watch me.”

Thomas and Matthew rode into Oklahoma City one week later. Thomas had been able to find enough of the distinct hoofprints to keep them on track. They had also come across one campsite in Indian Territory that showed the hoofprint, and Thomas realized that the rider was now alone.

“What does that mean, Thomas?” Matthew had asked. “Is it Ethan Langer, or the man who was ridin’ with him?”

Of course, there was nothing in the cold camp that could tell them that. Thomas mounted up after inspecting the ground around the dead campfire.

“We’re gonna have to assume it’s Ethan, Matthew,” he said. “After all, he’s headed in the direction of Oklahoma City.”

“If it’s the wrong man, Pa’s gonna be real mad.”

“I think, when we explain the situation to Pa,” Thomas said, “he’ll understand.”

“I wonder how him and James are doin’?”

“Better than we are, I hope.”

“Hey, I just thought of somethin’.”

“What?”

“Where are we supposed to meet up with them when we’re all done?”

“Don’t worry, Matthew,” Thomas said. “Pa pulled me aside before we left and said that we could all find each other in Epitaph.”

The thought of seeing his father and brother again, and in Epitaph, made Matthew doubly happy.

“That’s good,” he said, “that’s real good.”

Along the way they’d had one encounter with a Cherokee hunting party—five braves—just as they had their last time through the territory.

“Are these the same ones, Thomas?” Matthew asked nervously.

“I don’t know, Matthew,” Thomas said, “but we’ll treat them the same way Pa treated the others.”

Through sign language, the Cherokee indicated they were hungry. Thomas offered them some beef jerky, as he had seen his father do, but they wanted more. He ended up offering them everything else they had, but kept the beef jerky for themselves. The Cherokee seemed to like this
idea and made the bargain. They left the brothers in peace.

“Indians don’t seem so bad,” Matthew said, and they rode their separate ways.

“I guess nobody is, if you treat them fairly.”

As they rode into Oklahoma City, Matthew said, “What do we do now, Thomas? We still don’t know whose trail we followed.”

“If it’s Ethan’s trail,” Thomas replied, “he’ll go to his brother’s church.”

“So we have to go there?”

“Not yet,” Thomas said. “Let’s see if we can find a place to stay near there, and a place to board the horses.”

“Why don’t we just go in?”

“Because Ethan is dangerous,” Thomas said. “Because we don’t have Pa with us and we have to do this right. If we just go walkin’ in there, he might start shootin’. What if there’s other people in the church? What if his brother, the priest, gets shot?”

“Okay, Thomas,” Matthew said, “you’re the boss. I just got one other question.”

“What’s that?”

“Do you remember where the church is?”

Thomas frowned, thought a moment, and said, “We’ll ask somebody.”

Ethan Langer awoke with a start and went for his gun. He sat straight up when he realized it
wasn’t there. He looked around and saw he was in a room that was bare except for the bed he was on and a chest of drawers. The walls were stone, and the window a square cut out in the wall.

Was he in jail?

“What the—” he said, sitting up.

At that moment the thick wooden door opened and Father Vincent came in. “I heard you yell,” he said.

“Where the hell am I?” Ethan demanded.

“You’re in the church, Ethan,” Vincent said. “Don’t you remember? You got here yesterday.”

Ethan didn’t remember, and that bothered him. “Where the hell is my gun?”

Father Vincent winced at his brother’s language, but said, “In the top drawer.”

Ethan stood up, pulled the top drawer open, and removed his gun belt. He strapped it on and immediately felt better.

“And where are my saddlebags?”

“Bottom drawer.”

Ethan opened the drawer and found the saddlebags. He opened one, saw the cash, then closed it and the drawer.

“How long have I been here?”

“As I said,” Vincent responded, “you arrived yesterday. It’s only been one day.”

“Did I…say anything when I got here?”

“Only that you and Aaron had quarreled, and
had gone your separate ways,” Vincent answered. “I’m sorry.”

“Never mind that,” Ethan said. “I don’t need him. What else did I say?”

“That you were still having those dreams, about the woman.”

Ethan rubbed his face vigorously with his hands. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, “that’s why I came here. You gotta help me get rid of her, Vincent. I—I’m startin’ to hear her when I’m awake.”

“She—She talks to you, Ethan?”

“She laughs at me!”

“I told you last time you were here how I thought you ought to proceed—”

“Never mind that,” Ethan said. “Tell me how to get rid of her.” He drew his gun and pointed it at his brother. “If you don’t help me, Vincent, so help me I’ll kill you.”

Father Vincent stared at his brother for a few moments, then said, “I believe you, Ethan. Put the gun away and I’ll try to think of a way to help you.”

“You better,” Ethan said. He holstered his gun, then looked at his brother and added, “You just better.”