Leaving Epitaph Page 4

  “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.”

  12

  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?

  13

  Ten days into the hunt, Shaye and his sons were in Oklahoma Territory. Their badges hadn’t been much good since they’d left their own county, but now that they were in Oklahoma they were less than good.

  “Should we even keep wearin’ them, Pa?” James asked as they were about to cross the border.

  “It can’t hurt,” Shaye said. “At the very least it’ll get us some professional courtesy, even if we have no official standing.”

  Shaye knew they’d need all the professional courtesy they could get. Lawmen with vendettas were usually not looked upon very favorably by other lawmen, and Shaye had no illusions about his and his sons’ motive for tracking the Langer gang. It was a vendetta, pure and simple—even though he’d had to explain to his boys just what “vendetta” meant.

  “We won’t speak of your mother’s death to these other lawmen we come across,” Shaye told them. “In Oklahoma or anywhere else, our hunt takes us.”

  “Why not, Pa?” Matthew had asked. “Won’t they sympathize with us?”

  “Professional lawmen remain objective, Matthew,” Shaye had explained. “They don’t let their emotions get in the way of doing their jobs.”

  “But you’re a professional lawman, Pa,” James said.

  “We all are,” Thomas said, “but I think what Pa is sayin’ is that this is a special case.”

  “That’s exactly right, Thomas,” Shaye said. “It’s special to us, but it’s not going to be special to anyone else we run into. When we encounter other men with badges, we’ll have to act like this is all in a day’s work.”

  “But won’t they know it’s not?” Thomas asked. “After all, we’re Texas lawmen in Oklahoma.”

  “We’ll talk about the bank’s money—the town’s money—and the death of an innocent woman. We won’t ever let them know who that woman was, though.”

  “I still don’t get it—” Matthew began, but Thomas cut him off.

  “This is the way Pa wants to do this, Matthew,” he said. “He’s the sheriff and we’re his deputies. He knows what he’s doin’, so let’s just do it his way, huh?”

  “Well…okay.” That explanation made sense to Matthew.

  “James?” Thomas said.

  “I understand what Pa is sayin’, Thomas,” James assured his older brother. “I’ll go along with it.”

  “Good.” Thomas had looked at his father then. “We’re behind you, Pa.”

  “I know you are, boys,” Shaye said, “and I appreciate it.”

  When they crossed into Oklahoma Territory, it was with a plan, and a new name for their hunt: “vendetta.”

  The first town they came to was called Lawton. If they continued due north, they would need to travel almost two hundred miles through Indian Territory before they came to Kansas. That was supposing the gang contin
ued north and did not veer off and head in the direction of Oklahoma City.

  They camped outside of Lawton, since there was no guarantee that Sam Torrence had indeed given up his badge and had not decided to spread the word that the Shaye men were wanted for assaulting a peace officer.

  “You’re part of a gang that has robbed a bank and got away with a good amount of money,” Shaye said to his sons. “Where would you go?”

  “To a big town,” Matthew said, “a city, and spend it.”

  “Like Oklahoma City?” Shaye asked.

  “Yes.”

  “James?”

  “I don’t think I’d spend it right away, Pa,” James said. “I wouldn’t want anybody lookin’ at me funny while I’m spending a lot of cash.”

  “That’s good thinking, James,” Shaye said, “but I’m afraid you’re a little smarter than most bank robbers. How about you, Thomas?”

  “Well,” Thomas said, “if I’m Ethan Langer and I’m supposed to meet up with my older brother, Aaron, I don’t think I’d spend a dime until I did—and I wouldn’t let anyone else either.”

  “What about Oklahoma City?” Shaye asked.

  “I wouldn’t go there,” Thomas said, “unless that’s where I’m supposed to meet my brother.”

  “Well, with Aaron coming from South Dakota and Ethan from Texas, I think it’s more likely they’d meet somewhere in Kansas.”

  “Kansas City?” Matthew asked, excited at the prospect.

  “Too far east,” Shaye said. “Wichita, maybe, or Salina.”

  “So we should head for Wichita?” James asked.

  “If we guess Wichita and we’re wrong,” Thomas said, “we’re settin’ ourselves back, ain’t we, Pa?”

  “There’s no time limit on revenge, Thomas,” Shaye said. “But we won’t commit to Wichita just yet. We got a long way to go, and there’s bound to be more sitings of this gang. Ethan and Aaron Langer are well-known thieves. Somebody’s going to spot them.”

  “And they won’t lie to us the way Sam Torrence did, huh, Pa?” Matthew asked.

  “Anybody who lies to us,” Shaye said, “who tries to hinder us, Matthew, will have to deal with us. Time to turn in.”

  14

  They rode into Lawton much the way they had ridden into Vernon—unshaven, unwashed, dirty. The horses were worn-out, and Shaye had decided they’d stay the night to give them—horses and men—a much-needed rest. He thought he might have been pushing them all too hard.

  Lawton, Oklahoma, was a small but well-appointed-looking town. It seemed to be dragging itself toward the twentieth century, with streetlights and a trolley that went down the main street. There were some new brick and wood buildings, and the smell of newly cut lumber was in the air, a sure sign of a town that was growing.

  They reined in their horses in front of a new-looking hotel called The Lawton House. To Shaye, it was a likely sign that a town was trying to improve itself when one of their hotels had the word “House” in the name—usually connected with the name of the town.

  “Thomas, why don’t you and James take the horses to the livery. Matthew and I will get us rooms, and then we’ll go and find some good steaks.”

  “Sounds good, Pa.”

  Shaye and Matthew dismounted, removed their saddlebags and bedrolls, and handed over their horses. They were entering the hotel lobby as Thomas and James rode off, leading their horses.

  “Good afternoon,” the clerk said as Shaye and Matthew approached the front desk. “Welcome to Lawton, gentlemen. Can I get you a room?”

  “Two, if you have them,” Shaye said.

  “Certainly.” The clerk was in his thirties, well-dressed, short and slightly built, but with an air that said he was much more than just the desk clerk. “How long will you be staying with us?”

  “Just overnight, more than likely,” Shaye said.

  The man turned the register around, and Shaye filled in the four names. He also took the opportunity to check the register to see if a bunch of men had checked in anytime in the past two weeks. He found nothing. When he turned the book back around, the man handed over two keys, to Rooms 3 and 4.

  Shaye had decided that this time, in this town, they wouldn’t ask about the Langer gang as loudly and obviously as they had during their very short stay in Vernon.

  “We have a nice little town here,” the clerk said. “You might decide to stay longer.”

  “Looks like your little town is growing,” Shaye said, “but we’re really just passing through.”

  “Well,” the man said, “maybe next time, then.”

  “Are you the owner here?” Shaye asked.

  “Yes, sir, I am.”

  “Do you have facilities with baths?”

  “We certainly do,” the man said. “In the back. How many shall I have drawn for you?”

  “There are four of us. Can you accommodate that?”

  “We have three tubs,” the clerk said. “I’m sure you can work out the logistics between you.”

  “I think we can. Thank you.”

  “Will ten minutes do?”

  “No,” Shaye said. “I think we’ll eat first. We’re pretty hungry. Do you know where we can get a good steak?”

  “Well, I do, but…”

  “But what?”

  “May I be candid?”

  “Please.”

  “I really don’t think you’d want to go into a restaurant looking—and smelling—like that.”

  Shaye looked at Matthew, then at himself, and said, “You might be right. Ten minutes will work, after all.”

  Shaye turned to Matthew and handed him the key to Room 4. “Wait for your brothers outside and give them the key.”

  “Yes, Pa…. Pa?”

  “Yes, Matthew?”

  “We got to take baths again?”

  “Yes, Matthew,” Shaye said, “we have to take baths again.”

  Thomas and James dismounted and walked all four horses into the livery. The liveryman turned and smiled at them. He was tall and older, in his sixties, and was wiping his gnarled hands on a rag as they entered.

  “Help you gents?”

  “We’d like to put our horses up for the night, have them rubbed down and fed,” Thomas said.

  “I take good care of animals I take into my charge,” the man said, “yes sir.”

  “That’s good,” James said. “They need some care.”

  The man looked the animals over critically. “Been riding them hard and long, looks like.”

  “Some,” Thomas said.

  “Well, I’ll give them care and a good night’s rest. How long you plannin’ on leavin’ them with me?”

  “Just overnight,” Thomas said.

  “Good enough,” the man said with a nod. “They’ll be ready to go in the mornin’.”

  “Much obliged,” Thomas said.

  “Lawmen, I see,” the man commented, noticing the badges on their shirts.

  “That’s right,” Thomas said, “from Texas.”

  “A little far from home, ain’tcha?”

  “We’re just passin’ through,” Thomas said, remembering his father’s warning not to ask questions.

  “Lookin’ fer somebody, are ya?”

  “My brother said we’re just passin’ through,” James answered.

  “Sure, sure,” the man said. “Well, my name’s Ike. I guess I’ll be seein’ you boys in the mornin’.”

  “What do we owe you?” Thomas asked.

  “You kin pay me in the mornin’,” Ike said. “If I can’t trust the law, who can I trust, right?”

  “Thanks,” James said.

  He and Thomas recovered the saddlebags and bedrolls from their saddles, bid Ike good afternoon, and left the livery.

  “Too many questions for my taste,” James commented as they left.

  “I was thinkin’ the same thing, little brother.”

  When they reached the hotel, they found Matthew waiting for them with a key.

  “You bunkin’ with
Pa tonight?” Thomas asked, accepting the key.

  “I guess,” Matthew said with a shrug. “He didn’t say.”

  “Might as well,” Thomas said. “You checked in with him.”

  “We got to take baths,” Matthew said. “Pa says so.”

  “Before we eat?” James asked.

  “The hotel clerk said we smelled.”

  “You do smell,” Thomas said.

  “So do you,” Matthew said.

  “I didn’t say I didn’t,” Thomas replied, “I just said you did.”

  “You think I smell worse than you?”

  “You’re bigger,” James said. “There’s more of you to smell. You smell worse than me ’n’ Thomas put together.”

  Matthew lifted an arm and sniffed himself carefully. “I smell fine.”

  “Well,” Thomas said, “all I know is, I ain’t usin’ the same tub as you unless I go before you.”

  “Man said he got three tubs.”

  “As long as I get to one before you fill it with mud,” Thomas said.

  Thomas and James walked past their brother, who took one more sniff of himself before following them.

  15

  When they reached the restaurant called Magnolia’s, Shaye could see why the clerk had warned him about bathing first. It looked like a family place, with couples as well as people with children dining. Everyone was dressed better than they were. They had donned extra clothes they’d brought with them, but they were still trail clothes, though at least they were clean.

  “Gentlemen,” a man in a dark suit said, fronting them, “a table for four?”

  “Please,” Shaye said.

  “This is fancy, Pa,” Matthew said, clearly uncomfortable.

  “Don’t worry, Matthew,” Shaye said, “the food will be fine.”

  “People are lookin’ at us.”

  “They’re lookin’ at you,” James said, poking Matthew from behind. “You have your hair parted in the middle.”

  “Leave your brother alone, James,” Shaye said. “They’re looking at our badges.”

  They were led to their table, where they were seated between a middle-aged couple and a family of three, with a little girl.

  “A waiter will be right with you,” the man said, and left.

  “I thought he was our waiter,” Matthew said.