“Breakfast, Pa!” James called out.
“I’m coming.”
Matthew and Thomas saddled the horses while James and Shaye broke camp.
“Can I ask you somethin’, Pa?” James asked.
“Always, James,” Shaye said, hoping that James’s question would be easier to answer than Thomas’s last one about being special had been.
“What would Ma think of what we’re doin’?”
Shaye sighed. Apparently, his sons were not going to come up with simple questions. “Well, James,” he said honestly, “I don’t think she’d approve very much.”
“Of any of it?”
“No,” Shaye said. “She’d approve of me doing my job and trying to get the bank’s money back. She would not approve of what I intend to do when I catch up to the Langer gang.”
“Kill them?”
“Right. She also would not approve of my taking you boys along with me.”
“We got a right.”
“She’d probably agree with that part,” Shaye said. “Just not with me putting you in danger.”
“But you ain’t puttin’ us in danger,” James said. “We’re here to watch each other’s backs, right? To keep each other safe?”
Shaye finished stomping out the fire and turned to face his youngest son.
“I can’t lie to you, James,” he said. “We’re here to kill the men who killed your ma. At least, that’s what I’m here to do.”
“Us too.”
“No,” Shaye said, “it’s not the same for you boys as it is for me.”
“She was our ma!” James snapped, his face growing red the way his mother’s used to when she lost her temper. “We got a right to—”
“Simmer down,” Shaye said. “You don’t understand. Of course you have a right to come along, but I’m the one who’s going to kill them. I’m going to kill Ethan Langer, and probably his brother too. But in the eyes of the law, I might be doing wrong.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What if we catch up to them and they give up?” Shaye asked. “They surrender. What if they’d rather go to jail than resist and possibly die?”
James looked confused. He didn’t have any answers. “Would you still kill them, Pa?”
“Yes, James, I would, and I will.”
“But…wouldn’t that be murder?”
“In the eyes of the law, yes it would be,” Shaye said. “But James, murder is what I’ve been planning ever since we left Epitaph.”
29
While Dan Shaye and his sons continued on toward Oklahoma City, Ethan Langer rode into that city with a definite goal in mind. He had to find somebody, get his question answered, and get back to camp before nightfall. He thought he had his men sufficiently cowed to keep them from looking in the saddlebags he’d left in Terry Petry’s hands, but it was hard to be sure.
Oklahoma City was larger than the towns Langer was used to spending time in. His older brother, Aaron, liked big cities, like Denver and Chicago. Ethan preferred smaller, more western towns to spend his time in.
He knew the place he was looking for, he just didn’t know where it was. He stopped a man and a woman on the street to ask them, because they looked like the type of people who would know. After giving him a startled look—he knew he looked trail weary—they were happy to direct him.
“The Church of the Holy Redeemer is on the other side of the square, sir,” the woman said. The man took over then and gave him directions. Langer thanked them politely so he wouldn’t stand out in their minds, in case anyone asked, mounted his horse and followed the directions to the church.
Terry Petry sat at the first fire with the saddlebags at his feet. While he was pleased that Ethan had entrusted the money to him, he knew that the other men were now sizing him up, trying to decide if they should make a move for the money. All six of them were seated around the second fire, watching him. Of course, they also had to decide if they wanted to risk the wrath of both Ethan and Aaron Langer by going for the money.
If they did go for it, though, Petry knew he was the one who was going to end up dead, but he’d take some of those sonsofbitches with him. He wasn’t going alone.
Eventually, one man, Ted Fitzgerald, separated himself from the others and came walking over. He’d been riding with Ethan’s gang the least of anyone, and this had only been his second job.
“Hey, Petry, some of us have been talkin’,” Fitzgerald said as he approached.
“Looks to me like all of you have been talkin’,” Petry said, “and I think I know what about.”
“What’s the harm in jest takin’ a little looksee, ya know?” Fitzgerald asked, standing by the fire now.
“Forget it, Fitz,” Petry said, “and tell the rest to forget it too. Ethan left this in my care, and if anyone looks inside, it’s my head.”
“We could take it from you, ya know.”
“You could try,” Petry said, “but I’d kill some of ya, and the rest of ya would have to deal with Ethan and Aaron trackin’ ya down. You want that, Fitz?”
Fitzgerald looked more frustrated than angry. “It ain’t fair,” he said. “We don’t even know how much we got from that bank.”
“We don’t never know until Ethan and Aaron get together,” Petry said. “They like to see which one got the most money, first. Just go on back to the others, Fitz, and tell ’em we’re gonna wait until we meet up with Aaron, like always.”
“Can’t even take a look, huh?”
“Not even a look.”
Fitzgerald kicked at the ground, then turned and walked back to the others. He hunkered down by the fire and they all started talking again. Petry was pretty sure there were only one or two who were pushing the others to make a move. The rest of them were too smart to risk going against the Langers.
Petry poured himself a cup of coffee and kept it in his left hand so his right hand—his gun hand—was free.
He hoped Ethan would get back soon.
Ethan Langer reined his horse in outside the Church of the Holy Redeemer, dismounted and went inside. It was a big stone church, with high ceilings, and it was so empty that he could hear his own footsteps echoing throughout.
He stopped just inside, unsure of what to do. He removed his hat, held it in both hands. It was midday, middle of the week, so he guessed people didn’t come to church much at this time of the day. That would probably work in his favor.
He finally decided nothing would happen if he didn’t at least move away from the door. He started down the center aisle, knowing there was something he should be doing but unsure what. It had been a long time since he’d been in a church.
When he reached the front, he looked up at the altar and the image of Christ on the cross behind it. Off to one side he heard some footsteps, and turned to see a man coming though a door from somewhere in the back. The man was in his late forties, dressed all in black, with a white collar. He stopped short when he saw Ethan standing there.
“You have the gall to come here?” he demanded.
“What’s the matter?” Ethan asked. “A man ain’t allowed to visit his own brother?”
30
The two men faced each other in the empty church.
“You’re no brother of mine,” Father Vincent said. Once, he’d been Vincent Langer, older brother of Ethan and younger brother of Aaron. “You and Aaron gave up the right to call me brother when you turned to a life of crime.”
“Okay,” Ethan said, “then I didn’t come here as your brother.”
“What then?”
“I came because I need the help…of a priest.”
Vincent frowned. “You’re joking with me.”