“Why would I come here to make a joke, Vincent?”
“Father Vincent!”
“Okay, Father Vincent.”
Vincent studied Ethan for several seconds before coming closer. He stopped about five feet away, still looking his brother up and down.
“Is it true, then?” he asked finally. “You’ve come to me for spiritual guidance?”
“I don’t know if that’s what it’s called,” Ethan said, “but I need some kind of help.”
“Do you want to confess?”
“No, Vin—Father Vincent,” Ethan said. “I just want to talk.”
“All right, then,” Father Vincent said, “all right. We’ll sit down here and talk, Ethan. If it’s help you need, I cannot in all good conscience turn you away, can I?”
“I hope not,” Ethan said, “because if you can’t help me, I don’t know where I’ll go.”
“Pa?”
Here it comes, Shaye thought. The only one who hadn’t asked any questions yet—serious questions—was Matthew, and he had just ridden up alongside him. Thomas and James were riding behind them.
“Yes, Matthew?”
“Can I ask you somethin’?”
“Sure, Matthew,” Shaye said. “Go ahead and ask.”
“James told me and Thomas that you said what you’re gonna do to the men who killed Ma is murder.”
“That’s right, Matthew,” Shaye said. “The law might consider it murder, depending on how things go.”
“But how could that be?” he asked, clearly puzzled. “Ain’t we got a right to avenge our ma?”
“We got rights, Matthew,” Shaye said. “Maybe not in the eyes of the law, but in our own eyes.”
“But if the law considers it murder, are you gonna do it anyway?”
“Yes, I am.”
“But you’re a lawman, Pa,” Matthew said. “How can you break the law?”
“It’s not something I want to do, son,” Shaye said. “I’ve been upholding the law for the past twelve years. Don’t forget, I broke the law for some time before that.”
“But you’re wearin’ a badge now.”
“Yes, I am.”
“And you’d still do it?”
“Yes, I would.”
“But…why?”
“Because I answer to a higher law, Matthew,” Shaye said.
“Whose law is that, Pa? God’s?”
“No, Matthew,” Shaye said, “not God’s law. My own.”
Matthew thought about that for a few moments, then shook his head and said, “I don’t think I understand, Pa.”
“Let me try to explain it to you, then….”
“My God,” Father Vincent said after Ethan told him what had been bothering him, “do you mean to say you killed a woman while robbing a bank?”
“No,” Ethan said, “she got killed while we were escapin’, not while we were robbin’ the bank.”
“I can’t believe what I am hearing.”
“And I didn’t kill her,” Ethan went on, “she ran out in front of my horse.”
“My God, man,” Father Vincent said, “you rode her down and killed her.”
“Others rode over her too,” Ethan said. “Why am I the only one dreamin’ about her?”
“It’s the guilt, man,” Father Vincent said, “the guilt over having killed a woman.”
“Why is she screamin’ in my dream?” Ethan asked. “She didn’t scream in the street.”
“It’s the guilt that makes you hear her scream—”
“Stop sayin’ that!” Ethan shouted, jumping to his feet. “I don’t feel guilty! The damn woman ran out in front of us. Any one of us coulda rode her down first.”
“Why did you come here, then, Ethan?” his brother asked. “Why, if you feel no guilt, did you come to me?”
“’Cause there ain’t no one else I can go to,” Ethan said.
“There’s Aaron.”
“He’d laugh at me.”
“Friends?”
“They’d laugh too.”
“Then they’re not really friends.”
“That don’t matter,” Ethan said. “Vincent—Father Vincent—tell me what to do to stop the screams.”
“I’m afraid there isn’t much I can tell you, Ethan,” Vincent said. “I believe you will have the dreams until you admit your guilt and turn yourself in.”
“What? I ain’t gonna turn myself in. Jesus, why would I do a thing like that?”
“To rid yourself of the dreams.”
Ethan stared at Vincent for a few moments, obviously trying to comprehend what his brother was telling him.
“So that’s the only way?”
“The only way I can see.”
“Well,” Ethan said after a moment, “I guess I’ll just have to learn to live with it, then.”
Father Vincent stood up and put his hand on his brother’s arm. “There’s no way you can live with something like that, Ethan,” he warned. “It will continue to eat away at you for the rest of your life.”
“I’ll live with it, Vincent,” Ethan said, pulling his arm away, “’cause I ain’t gonna do none of that other stuff you just told me to do. No way in hell!”
Ethan put his hat back on, turned and started walking back up the aisle.
“Ethan,” Vincent said, “I beg you, admit the guilt. Take responsibility for what you did. It’s the only way to save your soul.”
“It ain’t my soul I was worried about, Vincent,” Ethan shouted from the back of the church. “It was my mind.”
31
“I loved your mother more than anything, Matthew,” Shaye said, trying to explain himself to his middle son. “I loved her more than any law created by God or man, and I’ll break any or all of those laws avenging her death. It’s as simple as that.”
“But won’t you go to jail?”
“Maybe.”
“And that don’t matter to you?”
“No.”
“What about us?”
“What about you?”
“Don’t you love us?”
“Of course I do.”
“Well,” Matthew said, “if you go to jail, what are we gonna do without a ma and a pa?”
“Matthew,” Shaye said, “you and your brothers are grown men. You don’t need a mother and father around to tell you what to do anymore.”
“Maybe Thomas don’t,” Matthew said, “or James, but me, I ain’t smart like them, Pa. What am I gonna do if you go to jail?”
Shaye hesitated, then said, “Thomas will look after you, Matthew. He’s the oldest and he’ll look after the both of you.”
“Will you tell him that?” Matthew asked.
“I’ll tell him.”
Matthew hesitated a moment, then said, “Okay.” He dropped back to ride with his brothers again.
There was another eventuality that Shaye had not discussed with Matthew. In fact, there were more than one.
First, there was the possibility that he might get killed while trying to avenge Mary’s death. Oh, he’d take those evil sonsofbitches with him if he could, but instead of going to jail, he might just outright get himself killed.
And on the other hand, since he had his three sons with him, one, two, or all of them might get killed as well.
Was he willing to sacrifice his sons—any or all of them—to avenge his wife’s death?
Were his sons willing to die—or watch their father die—to avenge their mother?
Was he willing to ask himself these questions, and answer them, if it meant giving up his hunt, his vendetta?
At the moment he had to admit that he wasn’t.
Leave it to Matthew—the simplest, most innocent of the brothers—to come up with the hardest questions of all.
Questions Dan Shaye was certainly not ready to answer.
32
It was getting dark, and apparently the other men had decided it was not worth risking their lives to take the saddlebags from Terry Petry. Petry was still sitting at the fire with the bags between his legs, but at the moment no one was looking at him.