Leaving Epitaph: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

66

It had not been James’s butt that caught the bullet, but the fleshy part of his hip. Shaye had packed the wound with an extra shirt from his saddlebags, and he instructed James to hold it there. Then he’d mounted and ridden out to check on Morales, to make sure the man was dead. That was something every hunt did, make sure you didn’t leave a wounded animal on the loose.

When he reached Morales, the man was almost dead, but he was holding on, for some reason.

“Shay?” he said as Dan Shaye’s shadow fell across him.

“Morales,” Shaye said. “Where is he?”

“Red Cloud,” the Mexican said. “Waitin’ for me with the money.”

“You think so?”

“If he’s not there,” Morales said, “you track him. Don’t…let him spend my money.”

“Morales…” Shaye said, but the man was dead.

He looked down at the body with a great degree of satisfaction, seeing that both of his shots had hit home.

He didn’t bother to bury Morales. He didn’t particularly care if critters made a meal of the man’s corpse. He rounded up the dead man’s horse, rode back to where James was, and made camp there.

The bullet in James’s hip was going to have to come out.

The wound wasn’t serious, but he had seen many men die from infection of a less than serious wound. A lucky break was finding a half-finished bottle of rotgut whiskey in Morales’s saddlebags. Not great for drinking, but it served well in cleaning the wound out. James tried to bite his lips as Shaye poured it on his wound, but in the end he howled like a hyena and then passed out.

Now Shaye sat beside him, keeping the fire going and listening to the animals who were being drawn to Morales’s corpse. He hoped none of the bigger ones would get brave and approach their fire.

While James was asleep, he used an extra shirt he’d found in Morales’s saddlebags as a new bandage for his own wound, and also used the last of the whiskey to clean it out. He cinched his own bandage tight, hoping to stop the bleeding. They were alone out here, and the last thing he needed was for both of them to bleed to death.

There was no money in Morales’s saddlebags. Why had the Mexican actually allowed Aaron Langer to go on with all the money while he waited to ambush them? It made more sense to think that Aaron probably had not given his segundo a choice. That sounded more like the Aaron Langer Shaye remembered.

He hadn’t yet told his sons that he’d once ridden with Aaron Langer, but he was pretty sure they’d figured it out by now. It had only lasted a year, and that was not a year Shaye ever thought back fondly on. He was amazed he’d been able to avoid becoming a murderer during that time. Or maybe, having watched as Aaron murdered, he was one, just by association.

He’d discussed the subject one night with Mary early in their marriage, and she had taken him into her arms and assured him that he was not a murderer, he was not responsible for what a man like Aaron Langer did.

“He would have done it whether you were there or not,” she’d told him.

Leave it to her to always find the right thing to say.

Shaye was dozing when James suddenly came awake. Embarrassed that he had almost fallen asleep while he was supposed to be on watch, Shaye moved eagerly to his son’s side. I’m getting old, he thought, old and tired.

“James? Can you hear me?”

“I hear you, Pa,” James said, confused. “What happened?”

“You got shot, son.”

James frowned, then said, “Oh yeah…in the ass.”

“Not quite,” Shaye said. “It’s more of a hip wound.”

“Oh, good,” James said with relief. “Now I won’t have to tell Thomas and Matthew I got shot in the ass.”

“No, you won’t.”

James tried to move, then grimaced. “It hurts, Pa.”

“I know, son,” Shaye said. “It’s going to hurt for a while.”

“How about you, Pa?” James asked. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Shaye said. “I rebandaged my wound and it’s fine.”

“And Morales?”

“Dead.”

“You fired twice?”

Shaye nodded. “Hit him with both shots.”

James’s eyes went wide. “Wow!”

“I was lucky.”

“Lucky with one shot, maybe,” James said, “but not with two. Wait until I tell Thomas and Matthew. They’ll wish they’d seen it. Heck, I wish I’d seen it.”

“You did your job, son,” Shaye said. “You’re just as responsible for getting him as I am.”

“Sure…” James’s eyes began to flutter.

“James?”

He touched his son’s face, lifted his eyelids to have a look. He’d simply fainted. Maybe he’d sleep until morning. That would be good for him.

Shaye made a decision to go to sleep himself. He wouldn’t be any good the next day if he didn’t. There was little chance that Aaron Langer would stumble on them, and if he built the fire up enough, it should keep the animals away.

It was a chance he knew he had to take.