Leaving Epitaph: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

2

The day after his wife was buried, Sheriff Daniel Shaye stood across the desk from Mayor Charles Garnett.

“The town wants to know when you’re going after the gang, Dan,” Garnett said.

“Worried about their money, are they?”

“Yes, they’re very worried about their money,” the mayor said. “Most of the town had their money in the bank, Dan. Jesus, this is 1889, for Chrissake. There’s not supposed to be bank robbers anymore.”

Shaye stared at the florid-faced mayor, a big man in his fifties whose face always shone red when he was distressed.

“If the town’s so concerned, Mayor, then how come no one will volunteer for a posse?”

Mayor Garnett sat back in his chair. “You want the honest truth, Dan?”

“Honesty would be a nice change, coming from a politician, Charlie,” Shaye said.

“I don’t think I deserved that.”

Shaye did not reply.

“They’re afraid of you, Dan.”

“What?”

“It’s been four days since Mary’s…since Mary died, only one since she was buried,” Garnett explained. “The whole town turned out for her funeral, and all they felt from you was hate.”

“Where was the whole town when the Langer gang rode Mary down, Charlie?”

“I’ve talked with the reverend, Dan,” Garnett said. “You can’t blame the whole town for that. That was the Langer gang. Blame them. Hate them. Go after them.”

“I am going after them, Charlie,” Shaye said, “with or without a posse.”

“What about your deputies?”

“They quit.”

“Did they say why?”

“They didn’t say a word,” Shaye answered. “I found their badges on my desk this morning.”

“They’re afraid of you too, Dan.”

“What about you, Mayor?” Shaye asked. “Are you also afraid of me?”

Garnett hesitated, then said, “A little. I’ve never seen you like this, Dan. I’ve never seen a man so filled with…rage. You…you…vibrate with it. Containing it seems to take all your strength. I don’t think anyone wants to be around when it comes out.”

“The only ones who have to fear that is the Langer gang.”

“It’s been four days,” Garnett said. “They’re getting farther and farther away with our money.”

“Is that all you’re worried about, Mayor?” Shaye asked. “All you’re concerned with? The money?”

“Of course not, Dan,” Garnett said. “We want them brought to justice for what they did to Mary, but be realistic. You can’t bring Mary back, but you can bring them—and the money—back.”

For a moment Mayor Garnett thought he’d gone too far. That barely contained rage he’d seen before flared in Dan Shaye’s eyes and then subsided.

“Dan,” Charlie Garnett said, “we’re friends. We’ve been friends for twelve years, since you and Mary brought the boys here and you took the job as sheriff. I think I should be able to speak freely here.”

Shaye hesitated, then said, “Go ahead.”

“I think,” Garnett said, very carefully, “what you’re feeling is not so much anger as guilt.”

“Over what?”

“You weren’t there when Mary…when the gang hit the bank. You didn’t get there in time to stop them, or to save her.”

“I was at the other end of town, Mayor,” Shaye said, “doing my job.”

“I know that, Dan,” Garnett said, “and so do you. There was nothing you could have done.”

“Oh, but there was,” Shaye said. “If I’d been there I could have stopped them.”

“All eight of them?”

“I would have stopped them,” Shaye said again. “I would have kept Mary alive.”

“Dan—”

“Charlie,” Shaye said, cutting the man off, “I’m going after that gang even if I have to go alone. I’m going to kill them, one by one—”

“Dan,” Garnett said, “that’s not your job—”

“—and if they still have the money, I’ll bring it back here,” Shaye went on, not giving the mayor a chance to finish. “But understand this: My first duty is to my dead wife, and to my sons, to avenge their mother’s death. My duty is not to a town that stood by and watched her die, or who will stand by now and not volunteer to lift a finger to help hunt them down.”

“They’re storekeepers, Dan,” Garnett said, “not manhunters.”

“No,” Shaye said, “that’s me. I’m the manhunter, and that’s what I’m going to do. Hunt them down.”

“Alone.”

“Yes, if I have to,” Shaye said. “What I need to know is, do you want this badge back?”

“If I take that badge, then you’ll have no authority to hunt them,” Garnett said. “You’ll be no better than a bounty hunter.”

“That’s right.”

“I won’t do that to you, Dan,” Garnett said. “I told you, we’re friends. You keep the badge, and you find somebody to pin those deputies’ badges on. The town will be with you in spirit and goodwill—”

“This town can take its spirit and goodwill and stick it up its collective ass, Charlie,” Shaye said. “And that includes you.”

Charlie Garnett spread his beefy hands and said, “If I could even still sit a horse, I’d be right with you, Dan—”

“Save it, Charlie,” Shaye said. “You’re all alike, all of you storekeepers and politicians.” He turned, stalked over to the door, opened it, then stood there with his hand on the knob. “I’ll be leaving in the morning. I’ll outfit myself from the general store. I assume the town will foot the bill?”

“Of course. It’s the least we can do.”

“It’s the very least you will do, Charlie.”

“Dan—”

Shaye stopped with one foot out the door. “What?”

“What are you going to do for deputies?”

“I don’t know, Charlie,” Shaye said, “but with or without deputies or a posse, I’m leaving in the morning.”

As Sheriff Daniel Shaye walked out the door, slamming it behind him, Mayor Charles Garnett thought that, one way or another, he would never see Shaye again.