Leaving Epitaph: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

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.

He’d been staring down at the saddlebags, observing the way they were buckled. It wouldn’t be too hard to unbuckle them—maybe just on one side—and take a peek at the money. He had to admit he really wanted a looksee. Now that nobody was watching him he could just reach down and undo one buckle.

He decided to try it. He kept a cup of coffee in one hand and slid the other hand down along his leg. When he reached one of the saddlebags, he slowly undid one buckle. He figured he could lift one end of the flap and just take a quick look inside with no one being the wiser.

When he got the buckle undone he looked over at the other men to be sure they were still not looking his way. Satisfied that he had gone undetected this far, he looked down, lifted one side of the flap, and took a look inside.

He was not at all prepared for what he saw.

When Ethan Langer rode back into camp, he was not in a good mood. He had not gotten what he wanted from his brother the priest, and so had wasted time bringing himself and his men to Oklahoma City. He should have shot up that damn church, he thought, that’s what he should have done. Maybe that would have made him feel better.

But that would not have done anything for his dreams. Could Vincent have been right? Would this woman never stop haunting his dreams? Was he never to have a good night’s sleep again?

When he rode into camp, all the men looked up at him, but he ignored them and rode by. He dismounted and began to unsaddle his horse when Terry Petry came over.

“Ethan we gotta talk.”

“About what?”

“About the money.”

“What about it, Terry?”

“Well…”

Ethan turned away from his horse and looked at Terry Petry. “You looked, didn’t you?” he asked.

“I—”

“You looked in the saddlebags.”

“I—uh, just one.”

“And what did you see?”

“Nothin’!” Petry said. “I mean, there ain’t no money in them, just some rocks and stuff.”

“To make them heavy,” Ethan said, “and to make them look nice and full.”

“But Ethan…where’s the money?”

Ethan went back to caring for his horse. “I hid it.”

“Where?”

“If I told you that,” Ethan said, “then it wouldn’t be hid anymore, would it?”

“But…why?”

“To test you,” Ethan said, “and to test the other men. Did any of them look in it?”

“No,” Petry said, “they wanted to, but I didn’t let them.”

“That was good.”

“I know—”

“But you looked in the saddlebags,” Ethan said, finished with his horse and turning to look at Petry.

“Well, I—uh, yeah, I just, uh, lifted one flap of one saddlebag and sort of…peeked.”

“That was bad, Terry.”

“Why?”

“’Cause that means that while I can trust the rest of the men,” Ethan said, “I can’t trust you, and you’re my second in command. You’re the one I’m supposed to be able to trust.”

“Well, I, uh, just wanted to make sure the, uh, money was all there—” Petry started.

“Why, Terry?” Ethan asked, cutting him off. “Why would you want to do that?”

“I, uh—”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Well, sure—”

“So you trust me,” Ethan said, “and I trust the rest of the men. Seems the only one around here who ain’t trustworthy is you.”

Plus he was going to keep on having these dreams about the dead woman until who knew when? Since he hadn’t shot up the church—and he couldn’t very well shoot his own brother, whether he was a priest or not—he did the next best thing in order to blow off the steam that was building inside of him.

He drew his gun and shot Terry Petry dead.