Leaving Epitaph: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

51

“A dream?” Aaron asked.

“That’s right.”

“A bad dream?”

“Yeah.”

Ethan was waiting for the humiliation. The sooner it started, the sooner it would be over and they could get to the tally.

“About the woman?”

“Yeah, Aaron,” Ethan said, “about the woman.”

“What is she doin’?” Aaron asked. “In the dream, I mean.”

“Screamin’.”

Aaron sat back and stared across the table at his brother. The others in the room drank, or ate, or sighed, or just plain waited. No one had the nerve to ask any questions.

Ethan sat and waited for his brother’s abuse.

“And you thought you could talk to Vincent about this, and not me?” Aaron asked.

“Uh…” This was not the question Ethan had anticipated. He’d expected a lot of others, but not that one.

Aaron looked around the room, and everyone he looked at contrived to be looking somewhere else.

“Morales!”

Morales came over, carrying a beer. “Jefe?”

“Keep everyone here,” Aaron said. “My brother and I are gonna go and talk in a room upstairs.”

“Should I hold onto the money?” Morales asked.

“No,” Aaron said, “we’ll be taking that with us. I just don’t want anyone goin’ anywhere. Understand?”

“Sí.”

Ethan didn’t understand, but he never questioned his brother either—not when he was looking this serious.

“Branch?”

“Yeah, boss.”

Ethan turned his head and looked at his segundo, leaning against the bar. “Come over here.”

“Oh, sure boss.” Branch came over.

“Aaron and I are goin’ to a room upstairs to talk,” Ethan said. “Keep the men here.”

“Right. Gonna do the tally upstairs?”

Ethan ignored the question. “Just keep everyone here.”

“Okay, boss.”

Aaron and Ethan picked up their saddlebags and went upstairs to look over the rooms.

“First,” Shaye said to Holcomb, “do you have any more deputy badges?”

“Two more.”

“Give them to two of my sons,” Shaye said.

“What for?”

“Cover,” Shaye said, “in case they’re seen. I don’t want them walking around with Texas badges on.”

Holcomb handed two of his badges to James and Matthew, who removed theirs and replaced them with the local ones. They put their own badges in their shirt pockets. Thomas had removed his earlier, and Shaye removed his now.

“Now what?” Holcomb asked.

“We should make a move while they’re all in one place,” Shaye said. “If we do this right, we should be able to get the drop on them and surround them.”

“The seven of us,” Holcomb asked, “surround nineteen men?”

“It can be done,” Shaye said. “We just have to time it right. Have your deputies used their guns?”

“Yes.”

“On other men?”

“A time or two, yes,” Holcomb said.

“Killed anyone?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Shaye said, “my boys haven’t either, so this might be a first for them.”

“Not for me,” the sheriff said, “or you either.”

“No.”

They both looked at the other young men in the room.

“Is everybody ready for this?” Holcomb asked.

“I’m ready,” Will said.

“Me too,” Ray echoed.

“Your boys?” Holcomb asked Shaye.

“I don’t have to ask them,” Shaye said. “They’re ready.”

“So how do we go about this?”

“Tell me about the saloon,” Shaye said. “You already told me about the back door. What other ways in and out…”

When they chose a room with a couple of poker tables instead of beds, Ethan closed the door, turned and walked into his brother’s right fist. He went flying over one of the tables, his saddlebags of cash falling to the floor. Aaron picked them up and tossed them onto the other table with his bags, then walked over to his fallen brother.

“Wha—” Ethan said, but Aaron didn’t let him get the question out. He hauled him to his feet and held him there a moment.

“That was for pickin’ Vincent over me,” he said.

“Aaron—”

His brother silenced him by hitting him again, but he held the front of his shirt with his other hand to keep him from falling.

“That’s for killin’ that woman when you didn’t have to,” he said. “You’ll probably bring a posse down on us for that.”

“I didn’t—”

Aaron hit him again, and let him fall. When Ethan hit the floor, he lay still, but was still conscious.

“And that’s for bein’ a damned baby about killin’ the woman and havin’ bad dreams about it,” Aaron said, leaning over Ethan. “I should hit you twice for that, but I’m lumpin’ them together.”

Ethan’s eyes fluttered but stayed open. Eventually he focused on Aaron’s face.

“Did you hear me?” Aaron asked.

“I heard you,” Ethan said. He extended his arm. “Help me up, damn it.”

Aaron reached down, grabbed his brother’s hand, and pulled him to his feet. As Ethan came up, he balled up his left fist and hit Aaron in the face with it.

Downstairs, the men heard the commotion above them, and looked at Morales and Branch to see if they should do anything. Both men simply stood at the bar drinking their beer.

“Think Ethan is fightin’ back?” Branch asked.

Morales swallowed the last of his beer before answering, put the mug on the bar for the bartender to refill. “If he is, it’ll be the first time in his life.”

“Would Aaron kill him for that?”

Morales accepted the full mug from the barman and drank a third of it before answering.

“He would probably respect him for it,” he said, “and that would also be a first.”