“Get away!” he shouted. “Get away from me!”
He pointed the gun at Branch, who made the mistake of freezing in his tracks. He couldn’t believe that Ethan would shoot him, but before he could say a word, the gun went off. The bullet plowed into his chest, and all the strength went out of his limbs.
Jesus, he thought, as he fell to the ground, killed by a man who might not have even been awake.
The shot woke Ethan Langer up. He looked around him for the source, then realized he was holding his gun in his hand. He looked around again and saw Ben Branch lying on his back.
“Branch?”
No answer.
Ethan got to his feet, reached out toward the body, but didn’t approach. “Ben?”
Still no answer.
Ethan lifted his gun and stared at it. He realized that it had been fired, but he didn’t remember firing it. He holstered it, then walked over to Ben Branch. He saw that he’d been shot in the chest and was dead.
“Oh Christ,” he said, not loudly. “Oh Jesus, I—I killed him in my sleep?”
He whirled around, as if someone was behind him, but there was no one there. But he thought he could hear someone laughing…a woman…a woman’s laughter…coming from…where?
There it was again.
He pulled his gun and looked all around him.
“Where are you?” he called out.
This woman was going to haunt him in his waking hours now? Or taunt him?
“There’s nobody there,” he told himself aloud. “There’s nobody there.”
He holstered his gun, walked away from Branch’s body, and hunkered down by the fire. There was no way he was going to go to sleep again. He poured some coffee and drank it scalding hot.
Father Vincent had to help him this time. He had to.
68
There was still enough of summer in the air that it didn’t grow cold at night. This made keeping James warm easier. Shaye, although committed to sleeping, did not sleep well. He was too worried about James, and about the fire. Consequently, when James awoke that morning, Shaye had breakfast ready for him.
“Pa,” James said as Shaye handed him a plate of beans and beef jerky, “this is holdin’ us up. Langer is gettin’ farther and farther away.”
“Maybe not.”
“What do you mean?”
“Morales wasn’t dead when I found him,” Shaye said. “He told me Aaron was waiting for him in Red Cloud, Nebraska, just across the border.”
“You think he’s really gonna be there? Why would Morales believe that?”
“I don’t know,” Shaye said. “He’s dead and we can’t ask him, but it’s due north of here, so that’s where I’m going.”
“You?” James asked. “You mean we.”
“No,” Shaye said, “I’ll travel faster without you, James.”
“You’re wounded too.”
“My wound won’t make sitting a saddle hard,” Shaye said. “Look, if Aaron is in Red Cloud, I’ve got to get there fast. You’ll have to stay here until I come back for you.”
“Pa—”
“If I don’t come back,” Shaye went on, “head back to the last town we passed. What was it—”
“You’ll come back,” James said. “I know you will.”
“If I don’t, just head back to that last town and see a doctor,” Shaye said. “Then find your brothers. Understand?”
“I understand, Pa,” James said. “But you’ll be back.”
“I think so too, son,” Shaye said. “I think so too.”
Later, Shaye saddled his horse and left all his supplies with James.
“Don’t try to leave here too soon,” he warned his son. “You open that wound and I’m not here to help you, you could bleed to death. I come back and find you dead, I’m going to be real angry with you.”
“Don’t worry, Pa,” James said. “I’ll be fine.”
“Keep your gun close, keep the fire high at night.”
“Do you really think Langer will wait for Morales?” James asked. “After all, he has both their shares of money.”
“They’ve been riding together for a long time,” Shaye said. “I just have to hope that means something to Aaron.”
“Then get goin’, Pa,” James said. “You’re wastin’ valuable time.”
“I’ll see you in a few days, at most.”
“Good luck.”
“You too, son.”
He hated to do it, but Shaye finally gave his horse his heels and left camp at a gallop.
Aaron Langer was sitting in a saloon in Red Cloud, a small town about twenty miles inside of Nebraska. Beneath his chair were the saddlebags filled with money. Aaron was a big enough, mean enough looking man that no one in the saloon wanted to give him a second look. He sat alone with a bottle of whiskey and a deadly glare. Some of the men in the saloon even knew who he was and didn’t want any part of him.
Aaron wasn’t sure why he was waiting in Red Cloud for Morales. He had all the money, didn’t he? He didn’t need anybody, did he? Hadn’t he just cut his own brother loose?
But when it came right down to it, Morales was closer to him than Ethan ever was. And riding alone…well, that just wasn’t something he had ever really done. There was a time in his life when he thought his partner for life might be Danny Shaye, but that didn’t happen. Shaye got religion. Oh, not the way his brother Vincent had, but he got married, and sometimes that was even worse than getting religion.
So then he hooked up with Morales, and that partnership actually worked, and lasted. Not that Aaron ever told Morales he considered him his partner. They both seemed to have settled into their roles, though, and both had profited by it.
Like now, with the money that was under his chair.
Of course, if Morales never showed up, that would be okay too. The money would more than make up for it, and he could always find a new partner, couldn’t he? He’d give the Mexican until tomorrow morning, and then he’d be on his way.
He looked up as a big brunette in a low-cut blue dress approached him. She had a hard-looking face but a big, soft-looking body.
“Hello, handsome,” she said. “Lookin’ for company?”
“Company’s just what I could use, honey.”
“Down here,” she asked, “or upstairs?”
He grinned, forgetting Morales and Shaye. He grabbed his bottle and his saddlebags and said, “Upstairs sounds just fine.”
69
Shaye rode into Red Cloud on a tired horse. He didn’t even know if he’d ruined the animal, but he’d find that out later. There were other, more important things to worry about.
He encountered the livery as soon as he rode in, and decided not only to leave his horse there, but get his questions answered. The local lawman might take up too much of his time.
“Help ya?” the liveryman asked. He was long and lean, with a spring in his step. He wore sixty years on his frame real well. “Lawman, are ya?”
“That’s right,” Shaye said, “from Texas. Looking for a man. A man with two sets of saddlebags.”
“You talkin’ about Aaron Langer?”
“You know him?”
“I seen him before,” the man said. “Knew somebody’d come lookin’ for him when he rode in.”
“What’s your name?”
“Amos.”
“Do you know where he is, Amos?”
“Everybody in town knows where he is,” the man said. “Over to the saloon.”
“Which one?”
“Ain’t got but one.”
“Got a lawman here?”
“Not much of one,” the man replied. “He’s been hidin’ in his office since Langer arrived.”
“Okay,” Shaye said. “Thanks.”
“You gonna arrest ’im?”
“That’s the plan.”