Leaving Epitaph: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

50

“What are we waitin’ for, Aaron?” Ethan demanded after his brother had kept him talking for hours. The other men in the saloon were wondering the same thing. “Let’s compare our hauls and get the split done.”

Ethan reached for the saddlebags, but Aaron slammed a big hand down on them.

“We’ll do the tally and the split when I say so,” he hissed at his brother. “You’ve got somethin’ on your mind, somethin’ botherin’ you, and I wanna know what it is!”

They had finished the bottle of whiskey and started on another one. Morales was the only one in the room who knew that the brothers’ capacity for liquor knew no bounds. The others thought the two of them would get so drunk they wouldn’t be able to tally until tomorrow. In fact, Branch had sent one of Ethan’s men out to get them hotel rooms. Now it was pitch-black out and they were all still there, with two men sitting outside.

At least, the deputy on watch across the street had been pulled off, Morales thought. Now the brothers had their heads together across the table and no one could hear them.

“Tell me what’s botherin’ you, Ethan,” Aaron said. “You look like you ain’t slept in days.”

Ethan tried to match his brother’s glare, but as usual, he was unable to. “Aaron—”

“We ain’t leavin’ this saloon tonight until I find out what’s goin’ on,” Aaron said. “You killed Petry! That’s crazy. What else have you done?”

Ethan stared at Aaron, wet his lips and said, “I went to see Vincent.”

“So you got the sheriff to pull his men in and wait?” Shaye asked. “That was good work.”

“It wasn’t hard, Pa,” Thomas said. “He really doesn’t know what to do.”

They had listened to what Thomas had to say and then broke camp and headed for Salina. Shaye was riding alongside Thomas, with James and Matthew behind them.

“He’s only got two deputies.”

“Maybe he can round up some more men when we get there,” Shaye said.

“Yeah,” James said from behind him, “maybe the people in Salina care more than the people in Epitaph did.”

Shaye found that a remarkably bitter statement to be coming from his youngest son.

“I guess we’ll find out when we get there,” he said.

They rode into town as quietly as they could, with Thomas leading them around back behind the sheriff’s office. They dismounted and knocked on the back door.

One of the deputies let them in. “This way,” he said, and led them through the cell block to the office, where two more men with badges were waiting for them.

“Sheriff,” Thomas said, “this is my father, Sheriff Shaye. Pa, that’s Sheriff Holcomb.”

Holcomb came across the room to shake hands with Shaye. “Pleased to meet you,” he said. “Your son seems to have a lot of faith in you.”

“Well,” Shaye said, “I hope it’s well-placed.”

“So do I,” Sheriff Holcomb said. “These are my deputies, Ray and Will.”

“My other sons, James and Matthew.”

The men shook hands all around.

“Are they still in the saloon?” Shaye asked.

“The saloon’s down the street but you can see it from here,” Holcomb said, moving to the window. “They haven’t moved.”

“You’d think they’d have done their tally and split by now,” Shaye said, standing beside Holcomb and peering out. “Is there a back way in?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s dark,” Shaye said, “but looks like they have two men sitting out front.”

“Ever since they got here,” Holcomb said, “except for when your boy rode into town.”

Shaye turned away from the window.

“How do you want to play this?” Holcomb asked.

“It’s your town,” Shaye said. “Can you get some more men?”

“This time of night I’d say no,” Holcomb said. “Actually, any time of day I’d say no. The whole town knows that these men rode in today, and they got off the streets fast.”

“So they figure this is your job, huh?”

“That’s right.”

“What do we do, Pa?” Matthew asked.

“Making a move at night could be good for us, Pa,” Thomas said. “We can use the dark.”

“Anybody else got any ideas?” Shaye asked.

“Your boy here said you’d know what to do, Sheriff Shaye,” Holcomb said, and then stopped and stared at Shaye for a moment. “Wait a minute.”

“What is it?” Shaye asked, but he thought he knew.

“Shaye?”

“That’s right.”

“Aren’t you…Shay Daniels?”

“It’s Sheriff Dan Shaye.”

“I know you!”

“Sheriff—”

“Shay Daniels!” Holcomb turned to his two deputies. “You fellas know the name Shay Daniels, right?”

“Sounds familiar,” Will said, but Ray shook his head and asked, “Who is he?”

“He’s Shay Daniels,” Holcomb said, looking back at Shaye.

“Sheriff,” Shaye said, “there was a time in my life when that was my name, but that really doesn’t matter now, does it?”

“It sure does,” Holcomb said. “I wasn’t sure what your boy meant when he said we had somethin’ they didn’t—meanin’ you—but now I do.” He turned and looked at his deputies. “Boys, we got a real Kansas legend on our hands, here. Back in the seventies there wasn’t no one quicker with a gun in these parts—hell, Missouri neither—than Shay Daniels.”

Thomas, James, and Matthew stared at their father. If what Sheriff Holcomb was saying was true, then he hadn’t been quite as truthful with them as he indicated.

“Now, wait,” Shaye said, “that stuff is just reputation. You can’t believe everything you hear—”

“I saw you!” Holcomb said suddenly, pointing at Shaye. “I just remembered, I saw you in St. Joe. You outdrew three men in the street, and they was pretty good gun hands. Wait, I’ll remember who they were….”

“Never happened,” Shaye said. “You’re mixing me up with someone else, or you’re remembering wrong. Can we get back to what we’re supposed to be doing here?”

“Okay,” Holcomb said, “but it’ll come to me. Okay, you take the lead, Daniels, and we’ll follow.”

“It’s Dan,” Shaye said, “or Sheriff. Don’t call me Daniels!”

His three sons were shocked at their father’s vehemence, as were the local lawmen.

“Okay, okay,” Holcomb said, moving his hands in a placating gesture. “Sorry. But you call the tune…Sheriff Shaye…and we’ll dance to it.”