“Ethan?”
“We aren’t headin’ north, Petry,” Langer said. “We’re headin’ northeast.”
“Yeah,” Petry said, “but why?”
Langer turned his head to glare at the other man, who had ridden up alongside him to ask him the questions. The other men were laying back, their shoulders hunched against what they thought was coming.
“Since when do I have to explain my reasons to you, Petry?” he demanded.
“Hey, Ethan,” Petry said, “a lot of us are askin’ the same question, ya know? I’m the only one figured I could ride up and ask ya without getting’ shot.”
“Look into my eyes, Terry,” Langer said. “Are you still sure that’s true?”
Petry did look into Ethan Langer’s eyes, and he didn’t like what he saw—at all.
“Forget it, Ethan,” Petry said. “Just forget it.”
“That’s right, Terry,” Langer said. “You ride back and tell the others to forget it. They can either follow me or go their own way—but if they go, they forfeit their share of the last job. Got it?”
“I got it, Ethan.”
“Good, then pass it along.”
Petry pulled back and joined the other men, leaving Langer alone with his thoughts—thoughts about his dreams. That woman was still there, every night, screaming in his dreams. He wondered if hearing her scream in real life would have kept him from hearing it in his dreams.
He needed to talk to somebody, but not any of the men he was riding with. He’d considered talking to Aaron, his older brother, except he wasn’t sure that Aaron would understand. He didn’t even understand. Somebody had to explain it to him, and the only person he knew who could do it lived in Oklahoma City. Once they stopped there, they could still continue north through Indian Territory to meet up with Aaron and his men. Hopefully, by then the woman would be gone from his dreams—and maybe even his dreams would be gone.
Maybe then he’d be able to get some peace in his sleep.
26
The Shayes camped between Lawton and Oklahoma City. There wasn’t much else in between the two, but they had outfitted enough in Lawton to be able to make the trip, as long as they rationed their food and drink well enough. Actually, they didn’t even need to ration it, just manage it so it would last another hundred miles.
“If they’re really going to Oklahoma City, then we’re only a couple of days good ride behind them, ain’t we, Pa?” James asked.
“That’s about right.”
“Whether or not we catch up to them,” Thomas said, “depends on how long they stay there—that is, if they’re really goin’ there.”
“I think that sheriff was too afraid of Pa to lie to him,” Matthew said.
“Is that right, Pa?” James asked. “He was scared of you?”
“Maybe he just wanted to do the right thing,” Shaye said.
“Pa,” James said, “tell us some stories about when you was an outlaw.”
Shaye looked across the fire at his youngest son.
“Why?” he asked. “Why would you want to hear about a time in my life I’m not proud of?”
“Because you’re my pa,” James said. “And in the last couple of days I guess I figure we don’t know as much about you as we thought we did.”
Shaye remained silent.
“And maybe,” Thomas said, “maybe we didn’t know as much about Ma as we thought we did…and now she’s dead. Maybe we don’t wanna have questions about you, Pa, when you ain’t around to answer them.”
Now Shaye examined the faces of all three of his sons in the flickering firelight.
“Fair enough,” he said at last. “I won’t tell stories, but I’ll answer your questions.”
“Okay,” James said, “me first. You ever kill anybody?”
“Before or after I put on a badge?” Shaye asked.
“Not while you’ve been Sheriff Dan Shaye,” Thomas said, “but back when you were Shay Daniels.”
Shaye took a deep breath. “Shay Daniels killed some men, yes.”
“How many?” Matthew asked.
“To be honest,” Shaye said, “I never counted. I never murdered anyone, though. I wasn’t that bad. I wasn’t Jesse James or Billy the Kid.”
“But you were good with a gun?”
Shaye held his right hand out. At the moment it was big, with thick fingers, a powerful hand.
“My hands were different then,” he said. “They were like Thomas’s hands. That’s why Thomas is good with a gun and Matthew isn’t.”
“And me?” James asked, holding out his hand.
“You have your mother’s hands, James.”
“Oh, great,” he said, drawing his hand back quickly.
“Thomas has her hands too, really, but apparently the speed I had when I was his age. Now my hands are too thick, I often have to double reach for my gun before I get it out of my holster, make sure it’s secure in my palm. Back then…” His eyes got a faraway look. “…I was fast, real fast, and I let it get the better of me.”
“How do you mean, Pa?” James asked.
“Like most young men,” Shaye said, “I thought being fast made me special. I thought being able to outdraw other men, and maybe kill them, made me different.”
“And it didn’t?” Matthew asked.
Again Shaye looked at all his sons before speaking.
“It made me the same as everybody else, boys,” he said. “Your mother is the one who made me different, or special. The fact that she chose me made me special. And I learned from her that being able to handle a gun wasn’t special at all.”
Thomas reached down and touched the smooth handle of his gun. He was fast, and he could hit what he shot at. He thought that made him special. Now he was being told different. If that didn’t make him special, then what would? His mother often told him he was special, but he knew she probably said that to Matthew and James as well.
“Did you ride with anyone famous?” James asked Shaye, but Thomas wasn’t listening anymore….
Shaye had set watches ever since they left Lawton, mostly for the boys to get into the habit, not because he thought they were in actual danger. There was always a chance the Lawton cowboys might decide they weren’t satisfied with the outcome of the arm wrestling incident. There was also the possibility they’d run into Indians—Cheyenne or Arapaho, and later some Cherokee—but there were only four of them and they obviously were not transporting anything of value. Even if and when they turned north and went deep into Indian Territory, Shaye didn’t anticipate any problems.
Matthew had first watch, James second, Thomas third. Thomas woke Shaye for the fourth and final watch.
“Get some sleep, Thomas,” he said as he settled down by the fire. “We’ll get an early start come morning.”
“I slept plenty before James woke me,” Thomas said. “I’d like to set a while with you, Pa.”
“Okay.” Shaye knew Thomas had something on his mind. He decided to let his son get to it in his own time. He poured them each a cup of coffee.
“Can I ask you somethin’, Pa?”
“You can ask me anything, Thomas.”
“Pa, I worked real hard to become good with a gun.”
“I know you have, son.”
“Why did I do that?”
“You’re asking me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You don’t know?”
Thomas hesitated, then said, “I thought I did.”
“Well, tell me what you thought you knew.”
Thomas hesitated again before answering, then said, “I thought it was important.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to be a lawman, like you.”
“Have you? Since when?”