Leaving Epitaph: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

35

As the Shayes rode into Oklahoma City, the three younger men looked around them, almost in awe. Most of their lives had been spent in small towns like Epitaph, and they were surprised by the sheer size of this place.

“How are we gonna find out if they were here?” James asked.

“Well,” Shaye said, “luckily, I know a little something about the Langer brothers.”

“Like what?” Thomas asked.

Shaye looked at him and said, “Like there’s three of them.”

They registered at a hotel, taking two rooms with two beds each, but Shaye kept them from boarding their horses.

“Why are we keepin’ them?” Thomas asked.

“We need to go and see someone,” Shaye said, “and originally I was going to go alone, but I think you b—the three of you deserve to know what I know.” He didn’t feel justified in calling them “boys” anymore, even though they would always be his boys.

“Which is?” Thomas asked.

“Come along and I’ll show you.”

They reined their horses in outside the Church of the Holy Redeemer.

“We’re goin’ to church?” Matthew asked as they dismounted.

“Only to see someone, Matthew,” Shaye said.

They followed their father into church. By coincidence, it was roughly the same time of day that Ethan Langer had entered a day earlier. The church was empty, and the scuffling footsteps of the four men echoed throughout the place.

They felt funny being inside the church. With the death of his wife, Shaye’s belief that there was a benevolent God had been sorely tested and had come up wanting. If there was a God, he now believed Him to be cruel.

Thomas felt much the same way his father did, that a God who was good as priests had been telling him all his life would not have taken his mother.

James and Matthew both dipped their fingers in holy water and made the sign of the cross while genuflecting, purely from habit. They had not quite come to terms with the responsibility God might have had for their mother’s death.

“Where do we go?” James asked in a whisper.

“Let’s go right down the center and see what happens,” Shaye said in his normal tone.

By the time they reached the altar, the sacristy door opened and a man came out. He wore black and a cleric’s collar.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

The four men turned to face him. The priest studied the faces of the three younger men before moving on to Shaye’s. When he saw him, he stopped short and squinted.

“My God!” he breathed. “Shay Daniels?”

“It’s Dan Shaye now, Vincent,” Shaye said.

“And it’s Father Vincent,” the priest said. He seemed to suddenly become aware of the badges all four men were wearing. “Oh, no. Are you here for…?”

“We’re looking for Ethan, Vin—Father Vincent,” Shaye said. “Has he been here?”

Thomas, James, and Matthew watched the two men with interest. Obviously, they knew each other from another time, and just as obviously there was still more to be discovered about their father.

“Danny—”

“Dan,” Shaye said, “or Sheriff.”

“Sheriff of…what town?”

“Epitaph, Texas. Ethan and his men hit the bank in my town.”

Father Vincent hesitated, then said, “The woman…”

“Was my wife.”

The priest closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m so sorry….”

“What about Ethan, Father?”

“Yes, yes,” Father Vincent said, “he was here yesterday.”

“Yesterday!” Matthew said, excited.

“We’re only a day behind, Pa,” James said.

“What did he say?” Shaye asked Father Vincent.

“He came to ask me…he said he was being haunted by…by a woman….”

“Mary.”

“He said she came to him in his dreams.”

“Good,” Shaye said. “I hope she never stops.”

“I told him the only way to stop the dreams was to confess his guilt and surrender himself.”

“He’s not going to do that.”

“No,” the priest agreed, “he is not.”

“Did he say where he was going when he left here?” Shaye asked.

“No, but I assume he’s going to meet with Aaron,” Father Vincent said. “I mean, isn’t that their pattern?”

“Yes.”

“So Aaron hit a bank in…?”

“South Dakota.”

“Did he kill anyone?”

“I don’t know,” Shaye said. “This time.”

Father Vincent’s legs seemed to suddenly give out and he sat down heavily in a front pew.

Shaye moved closer. “I’m going to get him, Vincent,” he said. “I’m going to track him down and get him.”

The man looked up. “And what will you do when you find him, Daniel?” he asked. “Arrest him?”

“Kill him.”

“That is not your job.”

“I’ve made it my life’s goal.”

“To kill?”

“Yes.”

Father Vincent looked up at the crucifix behind the altar. “God—” he started, but got no further.

“Don’t talk to me about God, Vincent,” Shaye said savagely. “God sent your brother to my town to kill my wife. If there is a God, then He’s sending me to kill your brother.”

“No,” Father Vincent said. “He doesn’t do that.”

“What does He do, Father?”

They both looked at Thomas, who had spoken.

“What does God do?” Thomas asked again. “If he didn’t send your brother to kill my mother, why did it happen?”

“The ways of the Lord are mysterious, my son—”

“Don’t call me that!” Thomas said. He pointed to Shaye. “That man is my father, and I have more faith in him than in any God who would let my mother be killed…and be killed in that way—”

Thomas stopped, then abruptly turned, walked up the aisle and out of the church.

“Pa—” James said.

“Go with your brother,” Shaye said, “both of you. I’ll be out in a minute.”

James and Matthew both nodded, followed in their brother’s wake and left the church.

“They’re angry,” Father Vincent said.

“The four of us are angry,” Shaye said, “and frustrated. We haven’t had any time to grieve. And we won’t grieve until your brother is dead, Vincent.”

“And what about Aaron?” the priest asked.

“Him too, if he’s there when we catch up to them.”

“How can you do this to your sons, Daniel?” the priest asked. “You’ll make murderers of them.”

“I’m going to pull the trigger on Ethan, Vincent,” Shaye said, “not my sons. They are duly sworn-in deputies, acting as a posse to pursue a gang of bank robbers.”

“Out of your jurisdiction.”

“That may be,” Shaye said, “but when they pull the trigger, it will be in self-defense.”

“And when you pull the trigger on Ethan?” Father Vincent asked. “What will that be?”

“That will be vengeance, pure and simple.”

“Some would call it murder.”

“I’m prepared for that.”

“I feel sorry for you, Daniel,” Vincent said. “You’ve lost your way—”

“Feel sorry for your brother, Vincent,” Shaye said. “When I catch up to him, he’s going to need your sympathy. Can you tell me where he went?”

“No,” Father Vincent said. “Because I don’t know.”

“Would you tell me if you did know?”

“I would not.”

“To protect your brother?”

Father Vincent shook his head. “To protect you and your sons. To keep you from doing something that may damn you—”

“I’m already damned, Father,” Shaye said.

He turned and stalked up the middle aisle to the back door. He was stopped by the priest’s voice, echoing from the front of the church.

“‘Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord,’ Daniel!”

Shaye turned and shouted back, “He’s going to have to fight me for it!”