Leaving Epitaph: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

67

The only thing Ethan could think to do was go and see Vincent. That meant back through Indian Territory to Oklahoma City.

“We got lucky once, Ethan,” Ben Branch said. “We got through there without runnin’ into any Indians. We’re pressin’ our luck tryin’ it again, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you, Branch,” Ethan said. “You got your money, you can go your own way.”

They were camped for the night about sixty miles east of Dodge City. In the morning, Ethan intended to start traveling southeast, with Oklahoma City his ultimate goal.

“Naw, I’ll ride with you for a while longer, Ethan,” Branch said.

“Then do it with your mouth shut.”

Branch nodded, tossed some more wood on the fire.

“You take the first watch,” Ethan said. “I need some sleep.”

“Okay.”

He rolled himself up in his bedroll, not at all sure he was going to sleep. The dead woman was in his dreams all the time now. But he knew he needed sleep or he’d be falling out of the saddle.

He thought about Aaron slapping him around in Salina. He was tired of that. Maybe it was time they split up permanently. He didn’t need Aaron anyway. He’d do just fine on his own. First, though, he had to do something about these dreams. Vincent had to know something that would help, something he hadn’t told him before. After all, he was a goddamn priest, wasn’t he? Priests were supposed to help people. This time “Father” Vincent would help him, or he’d put a bullet in his brain.

Brother or no brother.

Branch poked at the fire, wondering why he was going with Ethan Langer. His own brother had had enough of him, maybe what he needed to do was get off on his own. Still, he’d never made the kind of money on his own that he’d made since joining up with Ethan. Maybe he wasn’t the smartest of the Langer brothers, but they’d done all right. Maybe now that he didn’t have to answer to Aaron, he’d get smarter. Branch was willing to give it some time to see what happened.

But going back to see his brother the priest wasn’t a good start. He hadn’t been able to help him before, so what were the chances he’d be able to do it now? Actually, Branch didn’t even know what kind of help Ethan thought he needed, but apparently he thought he needed it from a priest.

He looked over at the sleeping form of Ethan, who did not seem to be sleeping comfortably these days. More than once Branch had seen him snap awake and then look around him, as if to see if anyone noticed. Maybe whatever nightmare he was having was what he needed help with. A priest could help with that, couldn’t he?

If they didn’t get killed by Indians first.

Branch was sleepy. He was about to wake Ethan for his turn on watch when suddenly Ethan cried out and sat up. He looked around, wild-eyed, unseeing. Branch had no idea that Ethan was still deep in a dream—a dream where a dead woman was chasing him.

“Ethan—” he said, getting up and walking toward him.

Ethan continued to look around wildly, then grabbed for his gun.

“Hey, Ethan—” Branch said, alarmed. “What the hell—”

Ethan looked up and his eyes seemed to focus on Branch. Only he wasn’t seeing Ben Branch. He was seeing a dead woman.

“Get away!” he shouted. “Get away from me!”

He pointed the gun at Branch, who made the mistake of freezing in his tracks. He couldn’t believe that Ethan would shoot him, but before he could say a word, the gun went off. The bullet plowed into his chest, and all the strength went out of his limbs.

Jesus, he thought, as he fell to the ground, killed by a man who might not have even been awake.

The shot woke Ethan Langer up. He looked around him for the source, then realized he was holding his gun in his hand. He looked around again and saw Ben Branch lying on his back.

“Branch?”

No answer.

Ethan got to his feet, reached out toward the body, but didn’t approach. “Ben?”

Still no answer.

Ethan lifted his gun and stared at it. He realized that it had been fired, but he didn’t remember firing it. He holstered it, then walked over to Ben Branch. He saw that he’d been shot in the chest and was dead.

“Oh Christ,” he said, not loudly. “Oh Jesus, I—I killed him in my sleep?”

He whirled around, as if someone was behind him, but there was no one there. But he thought he could hear someone laughing…a woman…a woman’s laughter…coming from…where?

There it was again.

He pulled his gun and looked all around him.

“Where are you?” he called out.

This woman was going to haunt him in his waking hours now? Or taunt him?

“There’s nobody there,” he told himself aloud. “There’s nobody there.”

He holstered his gun, walked away from Branch’s body, and hunkered down by the fire. There was no way he was going to go to sleep again. He poured some coffee and drank it scalding hot.

Father Vincent had to help him this time. He had to.