Leaving Epitaph: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

8

In a nearby bathhouse, Thomas Shaye was drying off, while both Matthew and James were still languishing in tubs of what was now tepid water.

“Hey, this ain’t half bad,” Matthew said.

“I can see why,” Thomas said. “You’ve got enough mud and dirt floating in that water to satisfy any pig.”

“You sayin’ I’m a pig, Thomas?” Matthew asked.

Their mother had given them names from the Bible, and had never shortened them. They were forever Thomas, Matthew, and James, never Tommy, Matt, or Jimmy.

“Would I call you that, Matthew?” Thomas asked. “I’m just commentin’ on your dirty water.”

Matthew looked down at his bathwater and made a face. “Yuck!” he said, and stood up quickly.

“Mine’s still nice,” James said.

“You’ll turn into a prune, James,” Thomas said. “Time to get out.”

James stood up as well, and Thomas tossed them both towels. Matthew’s muscles rippled as he dried himself, while James’s ribs showed, almost painfully.

“Ain’t we heard the name Torrence before?” Matthew asked Thomas.

“Yes, we have.”

“I don’t remember it.”

“You’re too young,” Thomas said. “We heard Pa tell Ma a story about a lawman who took money.”

“Torrence?” James asked.

“That’s the name.”

“If he’s a crooked lawman, why would Pa be friends with him?”

“He used to be friends with him,” Matthew said. “He ain’t no more.”

“Then why talk to him?” the younger brother asked.

“He’s the law here,” Thomas said. “We got to see if the Langer gang has passed through here.”

“If he’s crooked, maybe he took money from them too,” James said. “Maybe he’ll lie.”

“That’s true,” Thomas said, “but Pa knows that. Come on, get dressed. We got to meet Pa at the hotel.”

“You think he’s been talkin’ to the sheriff all this time?” James asked.

“Probably not,” Thomas said, pulling on his boots. “He’s probably been walkin’ around town tryin’ to find out if the gang was here.”

“And if the sheriff lied to him,” Matthew said.

Thomas was the first to finish dressing, so he said, “I’ll wait for you boys outside.”

“What do you think Pa will do if he finds out the sheriff lied?” James asked.

“Whomp him,” Matthew said, “or let me do it.”

“Whomp the law?”

“Pa’s the law,” Matthew said,

“Not here, Matthew,” James said, “and for sure not once we leave Texas.” James pinned on his deputy’s badge. “None of us will be.”

Matthew pinned on his badge as well, and stood tall with it. “We’re the law as long as Pa says we are.”

James only nodded and pulled on his boots.

They joined Thomas outside the bathhouse, and the three walked together toward the hotel. They saw their father standing in front, waiting for them.

“Has he talked to you, Thomas?” James asked.

“About Ma?”

“Yes.”

“No,” Thomas said. “He’s keepin’ it all inside.”

“That can’t be good,” Matthew said.

“It’s not gonna be good for the Langer gang when we catch up to them,” Thomas said.

Shaye felt his chest swell with pride as his three sons walked toward him. They were washed and clean shaven, and though their clothes still bore the dirt of the trail, he knew their mother would have been proud as well.

He had intended to talked to them about the death of their mother, but found himself unable to do so. There was much to be done, and he wanted to hold onto his anger, his rage, until he caught up with Ethan Langer and his men. He was afraid that talking things out with his boys might drain that away, and he needed the full force of it to do what he had to do.

He stepped down off the boardwalk as his sons reached him. “I’ve never seen you boys looking so clean,” he said. “Matthew, you’re looking positively pink.”

“You shoulda seen the water, Pa,” Matthew said.

“James,” Shaye said. “Clean shaven, I see.”

“Yes, Pa.”

“Well done,” Shaye said. “I hope it itches less.”

“Pa,” Thomas said, “what did you find out from the sheriff?”

“What didn’t I find out from the sheriff?” Shaye said. “Come on, I’ll buy you boys a drink.”