“Since…well, I guess since we moved to Texas and you became sheriff.”
Shaye recalled that it was only after he started wearing a badge that Thomas began asking for a gun. Mary was worried about that. She didn’t want any of her boys to follow in the footsteps of their father—any of the footsteps that he’d left, past, present, or—he assumed—future. Not that she wasn’t proud of her husband—she was—but she just didn’t want to have to worry about any of her other men…when they became men.
She and Shaye had words over when Thomas should be given a handgun, and in the end Shaye’s will had prevailed. Thomas began practicing with an unloaded gun when he was thirteen. He got bullets when he turned fifteen. By that time, though, he was a dead shot with a rifle and did much of the hunting for the family.
“So why are you asking the question now, Thomas?”
“Because of what you said earlier,” Thomas said, “about being able to handle a gun not making you special.”
“You don’t need a gun to make you special, Thomas.”
The younger Shaye did not respond.
“I see,” Shaye said. “You thought it did make you special.”
“Yes.”
“So now you don’t feel special.”
Thomas put down his coffee cup and spread his hands. “What is there about me now that makes me special?” he asked.
“First of all,” Shaye said, wishing Mary were there to answer the questions, “what makes you think you need to be special? Why can’t you just be…normal?”
“I…don’t know,” Thomas said. “I just thought…it was important.”
“And who knows what makes someone special, Thomas?” Shaye said. “You’re still young. There is plenty of time for you to…become special.”
Thomas gazed out into the darkness.
“I wish your mother was here,” Shaye said. “She was so much better at this than I am.”
Thomas turned his head and looked at his father. “You’re doin’ fine, Pa.”
“Am I?”
Thomas stood up and patted his father on the shoulder. “Yes, you are. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Shaye watched as Thomas walked to his bedroll and rolled himself up in it. His oldest son had just put aside his own questions and doubts to reassure his father about his.
Shaye thought Thomas was pretty special.
27
The Langer gang camped outside of Oklahoma City. In the morning, Ethan told them he was going on alone.
“Alone?” Petry said.
“Yes, alone.”
Petry leaned in so he could speak softly. “Ethan, the men were lookin’ forward to—”
“I’ll talk to the men,” Ethan said. He stepped around Petry and approached the others.
“I have somethin’ to do in town and I need to do it alone,” he said. “It will take me a few hours. If I let all of you ride into a city the size of this one, it’ll take me days to round you up again. We can’t afford that. We have to meet my brother on time.”
“Is stoppin’ here gonna make us late?” one man asked.
“No.”
“Can’t we just go in for—”
“No,” Ethan said. “Nobody rides in but me. That’s it.”
He turned and went to saddle his horse.
“This ain’t fair,” one of the gang members complained to Petry. “There’s women in Oklahoma City!”
“What makes you think any of those women would be interested in you, Bates?”
The rest of the men laughed at that.
“That ain’t the point!” Bates said.
“Have you got any money?’ Petry asked.
“Wha—No, I ain’t got any money.”
“Anybody else here got any money?” Petry asked.
All of the men shook their heads.
“Do you know why you ain’t got any money?”
“’Cause Ethan’s got it all,” Bates said. “He’s got the money from the bank job.”
“Right,” Petry said. “So what are any of you gonna do in Oklahoma City without money? You sure ain’t gonna get any of them women Bates was talkin’ about to look at you without any money. So what’s the point of anybody else goin’ into town?”
“Ethan’s goin’ into town!” somebody said.
“He’s got a reason.”
“What reason?’
“He don’t gotta tell us that,” Petry said, “’cause he’s the boss. Any of you wanna question him on it personal, be my guest.”
The men exchanged looks and shook their heads. Nobody there wanted to take on Ethan Langer.
Horse saddled and ready, Ethan waited a few more moments while Petry finished with the men. Terry Petry had been riding with him for several years now. He’d worked his way up to number two—his segundo—when the previous number two man had been killed. Ethan thought that Petry had been a decent second in command up to this point, and there was no one in the gang right now who he would have liked to see move up. If there had been, he might have already killed Petry himself, for questioning him.
As soon as he did find a good replacement, he probably would kill Petry. The man was getting too comfortable in his position—although he had just handled the men pretty well.
Ethan took his horse’s reins and walked the animal over to where all the men had gathered.
“Anybody got anything to say?”
The men all shook their heads.
“Well, I got somethin’ to say. I’m leavin’ the money behind with Petry. If I come back and find it gone, you’ll have to deal not only with me, but with my brother. And don’t think we won’t find you.”
Ethan took the two sets of saddlebags filled with money from his saddle and handed them to Petry.
“I know exactly how much money is in there,” he said. “If there’s a dollar missin’, I’ll find out who took it and I’ll kill him. Do you all understand?”
“Don’t worry, Ethan,” Petry said, with the saddlebags over his shoulders. “They understand.”
Ethan turned and looked directly at Petry. “Do you understand, Terry?”
“Sure I do, Ethan,” the man said, almost indignantly. “You know you can count on me.”
“I don’t even want anybody opening these saddlebags to take a look,” Ethan said.
“Nobody’s gonna touch ’em, Ethan,” Petry said. “I swear.”
Ethan switched his gaze back to the men, many of whom were staring at the saddlebags and licking their lips. “I got one other thing to say.”
They all looked at him.
“I see any man in town, I’ll kill him on the spot, no questions asked. Got it?”
The men nodded that they had it.
Ethan mounted his horse and looked down at them.
“This is gonna be an important test for all of you,” Ethan said. “It’ll prove your loyalty to both me and my brother.” He looked at Petry. “I’ll be back before nightfall.”
“Don’t worry,” Petry said. “We’ll all be here and so will the money.”
“I hope so, Terry,” Ethan said. “For everybody’s sake.”
28
That same morning, two days behind, Dan Shaye woke all three of his sons for breakfast. He had made a full pot of coffee, but it was James’s job to actually make breakfast.
Shaye was amazed at how he and his sons were getting along with each other. He knew they all had heavy hearts—no, broken hearts—and he knew they were all filled with anger, but never had that anger spilled over onto each other. Even now, as he watched the three boys picking on each other the way brothers did, he was amazed at their good humor—and at his own.
None of them had been able to mourn yet. That would come later, after the rage was expiated, after the thirst for vengeance was quenched. Once that was done, the emptiness would come, and the tears. Until then he hoped that Mary was looking down at their boys with as much pride as he was.