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.
“His job is to show us to our table,” James said.
“Why couldn’t he take our order?” Matthew asked. “It don’t seem so hard.”
“It’s not his job, Matthew,” Thomas said.
“We’re all having steaks and beer, right?” Shaye asked.
His three sons agreed.
“Some people are still lookin’ at us, Pa,” James said.
“They’re curious why four lawmen are in here,” Shaye said. “Don’t worry about it. Word will probably get to the local law and he’ll come looking for us with some questions.”
“What are you gonna tell him?” Thomas asked.
“I’ll see what the questions will be before I decide that,” Shaye said, “but remember one thing—I’ll do the talking. Okay?”
They agreed.
When a waiter appeared, Shaye ordered four steak dinners and four beers. Matthew looked over at the little blond girl at the next table and smiled at her. Her mother leaned over, hissed at her and made her turn away.
“Scarin’ little girls again?” James whispered to his brother.
Matthew just scowled at him.
Their steaks came and Shaye ate while watching and listening to his boys. Shaye rarely interfered when his sons were arguing or kidding with each other. Mary had always said the boys should work things out for themselves. The only time she ever interfered or had him interfere was when they came to blows—which they did often as small boys but hardly ever as young adults.
Thomas was very smart, but James had the quickest mind. Shaye knew that Matthew probably had the softest heart and was an easy target for both of his brothers if they wanted to pick on him. He was physically intimidating, but would never lay a hand on either of them in anger.
And all three boys cleaned up very well, and Shaye knew that girls liked them. Thomas was very good with women, Matthew too shy, and James was learning by watching his older brother. Shaye knew they all got their personalities from their mother, because he kept to himself most of the time and, except for Mary, didn’t like other people very much.
By the time they finished their dinners, the people at the tables surrounding them had changed, but they were still pretty much the center of attention. They all ordered pie and coffee and were almost finished with that when a man with a badge entered the restaurant. He stood just inside the door, easily located them, and started toward their table.
“Here comes the local law, boys,” Shaye said. “Remember, I’ll do all the talking.”
The boys nodded as the lawman approached.
16
“Gentlemen,” the sheriff said when he reached their table, “my name’s Ray Stover. I’m the sheriff here in Lawton.”
“Sheriff,” Shaye said. The man was his age and had the look of a longtime lawman. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Dan Shaye, sheriff of Epitaph, Texas. These are my sons, and my deputies.”
“Shaye?”
“That’s right.”
“I’ve heard of you.”
“Have you?”
“You been in Texas a long time, haven’t you?”
“Twelve years or so.”
“I heard of you before that, though.”
“Maybe you did.”
Stover licked his lips. “If you boys wouldn’t mind comin’ to my office when you’re done eatin’,” he said, “we could talk there.”
“I reckon I could come on over, Sheriff,” Shaye said, “although I don’t see any reason for the boys to come with me, do you?”
“I suppose not,” Stover said.
“Good,” Shaye said. “I’ll come over in a little while and we’ll have a talk.”
“That’s fine,” Stover said. “Uh, enjoy your meals.”
“Thanks, Sheriff.”
Folks in the restaurant watched as Ray Stover left the place, then focused their attention back on Shaye and his sons.
“What was that about, Pa?” Thomas asked.
“What did he mean, he heard of you?” James asked.
“Can we get some more pie?” Matthew asked.
“You can have some more pie, Matthew,” Shaye said. “I’m going to have to go and talk with the sheriff for a while, boys. When I’m done, I’ll come to the hotel and we can talk some.”
“About what?” James asked.
“About your questions,” Shaye said. He took the napkin off his lap and dropped it on the table. “Thomas, you got enough money to pay for dinner?”
“Yes, Pa.”
“Then get your brother some more pie,” he said, standing, “pay for dinner, and I’ll see you all back at the hotel. Maybe we’ll go and have another beer and talk.”
“Sure, Pa,” Thomas said.
All three boys watched their father leave the restaurant, as did the other patrons.
“What do you think that’s about, Thomas?”
“I don’t know, James,” Thomas said, “but I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
17
Shaye knocked on the lawman’s door before he entered, out of courtesy. Ray Stover was seated behind his desk and watched nervously as Shaye closed the door behind him.
“Coffee?” Stover asked, holding up a mug of his own.
“No, thanks,” Shaye said. “I had enough over at the restaurant.” He sat in a chair opposite the local lawman. “Pretty nice place for a small town.”
“We’re growin’,” Stover said.
“I can see that.”
The two men studied each other for a few moments. Stover took a sip from his mug, and Shaye had a feeling the contents was not coffee.
“You’re Shaye Daniels, aren’t you?” Stover finally asked. “The Shaye Daniels?”
“I’m Sheriff Dan Shaye these days, Sheriff,” Shaye said. “What’s past is past.”
“I thought you was dead.”
“Not dead,” Shaye said. “Just living in South Texas.”
“And wearin’ a badge.”
“That’s right.”
“Well…who woulda thought it?”
“Not me,” Shaye said, “not fifteen years ago, anyway.”
“So what are you doin’ in Oklahoma?” he asked.
“We’re passing through, actually.”
“Not lookin’ for anyone in particular?”
“Like who?”
Stover shrugged. “I heard somethin’ about a bank robbery in South Texas, thought maybe that had somethin’ to do with you bein’ here.”
“Bank robbery,” Shaye said, frowning. “You think a bank robbery would bring me this far from home, Sheriff?”