Leaving Epitaph: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

16

“Gentlemen,” the sheriff said when he reached their table, “my name’s Ray Stover. I’m the sheriff here in Lawton.”

“Sheriff,” Shaye said. The man was his age and had the look of a longtime lawman. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Dan Shaye, sheriff of Epitaph, Texas. These are my sons, and my deputies.”

“Shaye?”

“That’s right.”

“I’ve heard of you.”

“Have you?”

“You been in Texas a long time, haven’t you?”

“Twelve years or so.”

“I heard of you before that, though.”

“Maybe you did.”

Stover licked his lips. “If you boys wouldn’t mind comin’ to my office when you’re done eatin’,” he said, “we could talk there.”

“I reckon I could come on over, Sheriff,” Shaye said, “although I don’t see any reason for the boys to come with me, do you?”

“I suppose not,” Stover said.

“Good,” Shaye said. “I’ll come over in a little while and we’ll have a talk.”

“That’s fine,” Stover said. “Uh, enjoy your meals.”

“Thanks, Sheriff.”

Folks in the restaurant watched as Ray Stover left the place, then focused their attention back on Shaye and his sons.

“What was that about, Pa?” Thomas asked.

“What did he mean, he heard of you?” James asked.

“Can we get some more pie?” Matthew asked.

“You can have some more pie, Matthew,” Shaye said. “I’m going to have to go and talk with the sheriff for a while, boys. When I’m done, I’ll come to the hotel and we can talk some.”

“About what?” James asked.

“About your questions,” Shaye said. He took the napkin off his lap and dropped it on the table. “Thomas, you got enough money to pay for dinner?”

“Yes, Pa.”

“Then get your brother some more pie,” he said, standing, “pay for dinner, and I’ll see you all back at the hotel. Maybe we’ll go and have another beer and talk.”

“Sure, Pa,” Thomas said.

All three boys watched their father leave the restaurant, as did the other patrons.

“What do you think that’s about, Thomas?”

“I don’t know, James,” Thomas said, “but I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”