Leaving Epitaph Page 17

  “Sí, Jefe,” Morales said, “that is very right.”

  “So,” Aaron said, “see you in Red Cloud.”

  He kicked his horse into a gallop and only then turned his gun away. Morales knew he could probably take out his rifle and pick Aaron Langer out of his saddle, but he decided not to. Why destroy a successful working relationship over one transgression? Besides, if there was someone following them, it would be a good idea to deal with them now, rather than later.

  Morales turned his horse south and began riding. He was reasonably sure he’d find Aaron waiting for him in Red Cloud, with his money.

  62

  “Pa, why would Aaron Langer go north again?” James asked. “Isn’t he afraid there are posses out lookin’ for him?”

  “In the Dakotas, maybe,” Shaye said, “not in Nebraska. But my guess is he’ll head west eventually. I think he’ll head for Wyoming. I don’t think he’s wanted there.”

  “Are we still trackin’ him?” James asked. “Or are we just headin’ north?”

  “I’m trying to track him, but I told the three of you before, I’m not a great tracker. If this terrain changes, I don’t know if I’ll be able to see his trail. If that happens, we’ll have to go back to what worked before, stopping in towns and checking to see if anyone’s seen him.”

  “Do you think Thomas will be able to track Ethan?”

  “I think so,” Shaye said. “Unless Ethan changes horses, which at some point he might do.”

  “Then Thomas will have to go back to what worked before.”

  “Exactly.”

  Several hours later Shaye said, “I just thought of something. Damn, I wish I’d thought of it before.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Ethan,” Shaye said. “He needed Aaron in order to function. If he doesn’t have Aaron—I mean, if they’ve really split up—he’s not going to be able to make his own decisions for long.”

  “So?”

  “So if that’s the case,” Shaye said, “he’ll head for Oklahoma City again.”

  “His other brother?” James asked. “The priest?”

  “Yes.”

  “But…I thought he hated him.”

  “In the absence of Aaron, Vincent would do,” Shaye said. “If Thomas and Matthew lose the trail…”

  “Would Thomas think of that?”

  “There’s no reason he would,” Shaye said. “It’s only because I know them that I thought of it.”

  “Thomas won’t lose him, Pa.”

  “I’m glad you have such faith in your brother, James.” Of course, James was just telling him that to make him feel better. There was no reason to think Thomas wouldn’t lose the trail if he didn’t manage to run Ethan down in a day or two—which is what Shaye was hoping to do with Aaron, simply run him to ground.

  He had no idea how close they were to doing that when the first shot came.

  63

  James had the presence of mind to clear his saddle at the sound of the shot, but his inexperience precluded him from taking his rifle with him. Shaye, on the other hand, grabbed his Winchester before launching himself from his horse.

  Both landed with bone-jarring thuds and rolled for cover behind some rocks.

  “James? Are you hit?”

  “No, Pa. You?”

  “No.”

  “My horse is dead, Pa.”

  Shaye closed his eyes and silently thanked God for letting the bullet strike the horse and not his son. The irony of his thanking God was lost on him at that moment.

  He wasn’t hit, but slamming into the ground had not done anything good for his existing wound. He could feel blood beginning to soak his shirt, but he’d have to worry about that later.

  “Who is it?” James called out.

  “My guess is Aaron left Esteban Morales behind to ambush us,” Shaye said. “It’s a tactic he and Esteban have used in the past.”

  “Can you see him?”

  “No,” Shaye said. “We’ll have to draw his fire again in order to pinpoint his location. That was a rifle shot, so he could be pretty far away. Do you have your rifle?”

  “No,” James said. “I didn’t think to take it.”

  That was when Shaye realized that James didn’t have the reflex yet to automatically grab his weapon. This also put Shaye in a quandary, once again, like in the saloon. If James were just a deputy, he’d instruct him to draw Morales’s fire, since he was the one with the rifle. Even if he gave James the rifle, he wasn’t a good enough shot to take Morales from where they were. Shaye didn’t even know if he was going to be able to do it, or if he’d have to get closer.

  There was no way around it. James was going to have to draw fire from the Mexican, who was being smart enough to conserve his ammo until he could see somebody to shoot at.

  “James?”

  “Yeah, Pa.”

  “You’re going to have to draw his fire so I can spot him, son.”

  “I figured that, Pa.”

  Shaye checked his rifle to make sure it hadn’t been damaged in the fall from the horse.

  “When, Pa?”

  “I’ll tell you,” Shaye said. “Don’t make a move until I say.”

  It was getting late in the day, and they were traveling north. The son was setting in the west, so it wasn’t in Shaye’s eyes, but it wouldn’t be in Morales’s eyes either.

  “You’re not going to be able to just pop up and down, James. You need to make him think he’s got a target.”

  “Should I stand still,” James asked, “or move?”

  “You’ve got to move,” Shaye said. “He’ll hit a stationary target. When I say ‘Go,’ you start running to that other group of rocks over there. See them?”

  “Yes,” James said. He was lying on his belly where he was. “That’s better cover anyway, Pa.”

  “Okay, then,” Shaye said. “I’m not going to be able to take a shot, I’m just going to have time to spot him, and then we’ll have to do it again.”

  “Are you gonna try to take him from here?”

  “That’s what I’m going to do,” Shaye said. “If I can’t get him, then we’ll have to find a way to get closer.”

  “Okay, Pa,” James said. Shaye detected a slight quaver in his son’s voice. “I’m ready when you are.”

  Morales had expected to hit one of them with his first shot. He was too experienced not to know that he’d missed the men and hit one of the horses. Maybe the animal fell on the rider. That would be helpful.

  He blamed his miss on the fact that he was thinking about Aaron Langer and all that money. Truth be told, he did not even know yet how much there was. They were not able to finish the tally in Salina, and when Aaron had divvied up the money into saddlebags, Morales had not had a chance to count his.

  The longer he’d had to sit on his rock and wait for the riders to appear, the less sure he became that Aaron would be waiting for him in Red Cloud. After all these years of riding together, he thought that Aaron was going to try to steal his money. If that truly happened, then he was going to have to track down the man he’d ridden with for so long—given his loyal service to—and kill him. The thought did not sit well with him.

  But before he could do anything about that, he had to take care of the situation. He was an excellent rifle shot. All he needed was something to shoot at. He did not know who the two men were—he was too far away to see—but they had both reacted well, quickly leaving their saddles. From his vantage point, he could not tell if they had taken their rifles or not.

  He would find out soon enough, though. As he sighted along the barrel of his rifle he said softly, “Any minute now.”

  64

  The first thing Shaye had to do was make a good guess as to where Morales was firing from. He had to pick a spot, one he probably would have chosen to use. There was a rise about a hundred yards away that would do, another beyond that about another fifty yards. He knew that a good man with a rifle could make a shot from twice that distance. Unless Mora
les’s eyesight had gotten worse with age, he recalled him being a very good shot.

  “James?”

  “I’m ready, Pa.”

  “Okay…now!”

  James stood up and took off running. It also made sense for him to be the target—or the rabbit—since he was younger and could run faster.

  Shaye kept his eyes on the horizon and saw a man with a rifle stand up from the spot he’d chosen a hundred yards away. He couldn’t tell if it was Morales, but the man moved quickly, took aim and fired, then levered a round and fired again.

  Shaye, wanting to give Morales—or whoever it was—a false sense of security, fired a shot of his own that fell woefully short of its mark. Then he dropped down behind his rocks and called out, “James! You all right?”

  “I’m fine, Pa.” He sounded strong, though a bit farther away. “Did you spot him?”

  “I did.”

  “I heard you take a shot.”

  “Just to give me an idea of range.”

  “Do you think you can take him?”

  “I don’t think I have a choice, James,” Shaye said. “I’ve got to take a shot.”

  “What happens if you miss?”

  “That depends on whether I miss by an inch or a mile. A mile, and he’ll just stay where he is. If I miss by an inch, he’ll probably hit his horse running and pick a new spot.”

  “If that happens you’ll have to leave me behind,” James said. “We’ll never run him down riding double.”

  “Not only will I have to ride him down, I’ll have to bring his horse back for you to ride. I guess I better not miss.”

  “Hey, Pa?”

  “Yes?”

  “I just thought of something.”

  “What?”

  James hesitated, then asked, “Can he hear us?”

  Shaye had to smile. “Don’t worry, James. He’s too far away.”

  “Oh, okay. Can I ask you something else?”

  “Sure?”

  “The longer I stay a target, the longer you’ll have to get a bead on him, right?”

  “That’s probably right, James,” Shaye said, “but don’t be a hero. When I give the word, run back to where you were before, and be quick about it.”

  “Okay.”

  James would be able to do whatever he wanted, because Shaye knew there was no way he could keep an eye on his son and also take a shot at Morales.

  He laid his rifle across the boulder he was using as cover, sighted along the barrel, and shouted, “James…now!”

  James’s heart had been pounding ever since the first shot was fired. When he’d made his first run, he had steeled himself for the impact of a bullet. When it didn’t come, he felt great relief, but it was short-lived for he knew he would have to do it again. He was happy that his father was treating him more like a deputy in this situation and less like his son.

  When his father shouted again, James sprang up and began to run back to his previous cover, but he was not moving quite as fast as he had before. He wanted to give his father time for a good shot, and maybe even a second.

  He was halfway between the two areas of cover when the bullet hit him.

  Morales was ready, and when the man jumped up and began running again, he took a split second more than he should have to try to lead him and make a quality shot.

  As he pulled the trigger, the sound of his own shot drowned out any other sound, so when the bullet struck him in the belly, he was shocked. He staggered, dropped his rifle, and looked up in time to see the second man fire again. There was a puff of smoke from the barrel of the man’s gun…and then Morales knew nothing. A brief moment of respect for the shooter…

  Shaye saw Morales stagger and knew he’d hit him. In fact, the shot seemed to freeze the man where he was, so he jacked another round and fired a second, more deliberate shot.

  He turned then to look for James and saw him lying on the ground halfway between the two clumps of rock he’d been running to and from.

  “James!”

  He dropped his rifle and ran to his son’s side.

  “Oh, Pa,” James said, looking up at Shaye, “I think he shot me in the butt!”

  65

  “What’s wrong, Thomas?” Matthew asked.

  Thomas had dismounted and was walking around looking at the ground and then staring off into the distance. Now he walked back to where Matthew was waiting, still mounted.

  “I think I lost the trail, Matthew,” he said mournfully, shaking his head.

  “You’ll pick up the trail again, Thomas,” Matthew said confidently. “I know you will. And if not, you’ll figure somethin’ out. You’re smart, like Pa.”

  “Yeah, well,” Thomas said, not as sure of that as his brother was, “I don’t think they’ll stop in any Kansas towns. Not with the word out about what happened in Salina.”

  “So they’ll keep goin’? Back into Indian Territory?”

  “Unless they head west.”

  “What about east?” Matthew asked.

  “Too far,” Thomas said, “too much of Kansas to ride through.”

  “See? I told you you was smart.”

  Thomas took off his hat, ran his hand through his hair and looked into the distance, south.

  “I’ll try and pick up the trail again, but I think we should keep headin’ south,” he finally said. “That’s where he likes to work, and that’s where his other brother is.”

  “The priest? I thought they didn’t like each other?”

  “They’re brothers, Matthew,” Thomas said. “If Ethan decided he needed help, that’s where he’d go.” He put his hat on and slapped his brother’s tree trunk thigh. “That’s what I’d do.”

  “Me too.”

  “Okay, then.” Thomas remounted. “We’ll head for Oklahoma City and see if we can pick up the trail.”

  Thomas hoped he was making the right choice. He didn’t want the killer of his mother to get away, but—and this he found odd—even more than that, he didn’t want to disappoint his father, or his brothers. Matthew, he thought, was giving him much too much credit for Dan Shaye–like brains.

  But Oklahoma City seemed like a good bet to him. If two brothers had split up, heading for the third brother was something a man might do. The way Thomas felt about his brothers, he couldn’t imagine not going to one of them for help.

  66

  It had not been James’s butt that caught the bullet, but the fleshy part of his hip. Shaye had packed the wound with an extra shirt from his saddlebags, and he instructed James to hold it there. Then he’d mounted and ridden out to check on Morales, to make sure the man was dead. That was something every hunt did, make sure you didn’t leave a wounded animal on the loose.

  When he reached Morales, the man was almost dead, but he was holding on, for some reason.

  “Shay?” he said as Dan Shaye’s shadow fell across him.

  “Morales,” Shaye said. “Where is he?”

  “Red Cloud,” the Mexican said. “Waitin’ for me with the money.”

  “You think so?”

  “If he’s not there,” Morales said, “you track him. Don’t…let him spend my money.”

  “Morales…” Shaye said, but the man was dead.

  He looked down at the body with a great degree of satisfaction, seeing that both of his shots had hit home.

  He didn’t bother to bury Morales. He didn’t particularly care if critters made a meal of the man’s corpse. He rounded up the dead man’s horse, rode back to where James was, and made camp there.

  The bullet in James’s hip was going to have to come out.

  The wound wasn’t serious, but he had seen many men die from infection of a less than serious wound. A lucky break was finding a half-finished bottle of rotgut whiskey in Morales’s saddlebags. Not great for drinking, but it served well in cleaning the wound out. James tried to bite his lips as Shaye poured it on his wound, but in the end he howled like a hyena and then passed out.

  Now Shaye sat beside him, keepi
ng the fire going and listening to the animals who were being drawn to Morales’s corpse. He hoped none of the bigger ones would get brave and approach their fire.

  While James was asleep, he used an extra shirt he’d found in Morales’s saddlebags as a new bandage for his own wound, and also used the last of the whiskey to clean it out. He cinched his own bandage tight, hoping to stop the bleeding. They were alone out here, and the last thing he needed was for both of them to bleed to death.

  There was no money in Morales’s saddlebags. Why had the Mexican actually allowed Aaron Langer to go on with all the money while he waited to ambush them? It made more sense to think that Aaron probably had not given his segundo a choice. That sounded more like the Aaron Langer Shaye remembered.

  He hadn’t yet told his sons that he’d once ridden with Aaron Langer, but he was pretty sure they’d figured it out by now. It had only lasted a year, and that was not a year Shaye ever thought back fondly on. He was amazed he’d been able to avoid becoming a murderer during that time. Or maybe, having watched as Aaron murdered, he was one, just by association.

  He’d discussed the subject one night with Mary early in their marriage, and she had taken him into her arms and assured him that he was not a murderer, he was not responsible for what a man like Aaron Langer did.

  “He would have done it whether you were there or not,” she’d told him.

  Leave it to her to always find the right thing to say.

  Shaye was dozing when James suddenly came awake. Embarrassed that he had almost fallen asleep while he was supposed to be on watch, Shaye moved eagerly to his son’s side. I’m getting old, he thought, old and tired.

  “James? Can you hear me?”

  “I hear you, Pa,” James said, confused. “What happened?”

  “You got shot, son.”

  James frowned, then said, “Oh yeah…in the ass.”

  “Not quite,” Shaye said. “It’s more of a hip wound.”

  “Oh, good,” James said with relief. “Now I won’t have to tell Thomas and Matthew I got shot in the ass.”