Leaving Epitaph: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

20

Thomas was wracking his brain, trying to find a way to avoid trouble, when James spoke up.

“You know,” the younger brother said, “this really wouldn’t be fair, six against three. We got enough witnesses here who would say it wasn’t a fair fight.”

That seemed to stop Tim and his friends for a moment.

“My brother’s right,” Thomas said. “There’s a way to resolve this without anybody gettin’ in trouble, or gettin’ hurt.”

“Resolve?” Tim asked, frowning.

“Settle it,” Thomas said, “there’s a way to settle this.”

The six ranch hands seemed to need a way to settle it, since Thomas had already offered them the girls.

“Howzat?” Tim asked.

Tim looked at James to see if he had anything to say, but the younger brother simply shrugged. It was up to Thomas to come up with a clever solution.

Since Matthew and Lou were still eyeing each other, Thomas said, “We each pick one man, and the two of them go at it.”

Tim frowned. “Go at it how? Guns?”

“No,” Thomas said, “no guns. I don’t think the situation calls for guns, do you? After all, somebody could end up getting killed, and over what? A couple of girls?”

“Hey!” Dora said, but the men ignored her.

“Well,” Tim said, “maybe not…”

“Knives?” one of the other ranch hands offered.

“Somebody still gets hurt, or killed,” James said.

“Or arrested,” Thomas said.

“A fight, then,” Tim said. “Our big man against yours.”

Thomas looked at Matthew, who was still exchanging hostile glances with Lou. He remembered what had happened when his brother started to whomp the sheriff in Vernon. Getting into a barfight would constitute getting into trouble as far as Dan Shaye was concerned, and he would be held responsible.

“Arm wrestling!” James suddenly said.

“What?” Tim asked.

“That’s a good idea,” Thomas said. “We’ll have an arm wrestling match. My brother Matthew against your man Lou.” Thomas slapped his brother on the back.

“What are the stakes?” Tim asked.

“The winners get the girls,” Thomas said.

“And the losers have to buy the drinks,” James added.

“That suits me,” Matthew said.

Tim turned and looked at his companions. Pat shrugged and looked over at Lou.

“Suits me too,” Lou said. “This fella’s nothin’.”

“Let’s get a table ready!” James shouted.

Some of the other patrons, now that they knew there was to be no gunplay, got involved. They brought over a table and two chairs, and Thomas pulled both of his brothers aside.

“Matthew, can you take this guy?” he asked. “He’s got that belly, and that’ll anchor him.”

“It don’t matter, Thomas,” Matthew assured his older brother. “I’ll break him down. I ain’t never been beat in arm wrestling.”

“I know,” Thomas said, “in Epitaph. But this fella’s older, and he’s heavier.”

“It don’t matter, I tell ya.”

Thomas looked at James.

“I think we should take bets,” James said. “What do you think?”

“That’s what I was thinkin’,” Thomas said, “as long as Matthew is sure.”

“I been lookin’ into his eyes,” Matthew told them. “I can beat ’im.”

“James?” Thomas said.

“I’m on it.”

Suddenly, it turned into a betting match, and James was moving all around the room taking action. Tim, on the other side, seeing that, started doing the same thing.

The two participants, Matthew and Lou Scales, stood facing each other on either side of the table. Neither would sit until the match was about to start.

“Wait a minute!” Tim called out.

“What is it?” Thomas asked.

“We need a referee.”

“Somebody impartial,” James said.

The brothers knew they were at a disadvantage since they didn’t know anybody in the saloon, and the ranch hands were local.

“It don’t matter,” Matthew said to Thomas and James. “We ain’t gonna need a referee to decide the winner.”

“No,” Lou Scales said, “we ain’t, because I’m gonna tear this pup’s arm off.”

“Then the bartender will do,” Thomas said. “Any objections?”

Nobody objected. Probably the most impartial person in any saloon was the bartender anyway.

“Okay, then,” James said, “we might as well get started.”