Leaving Epitaph: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

71

Thomas and Matthew rode into Oklahoma City one week later. Thomas had been able to find enough of the distinct hoofprints to keep them on track. They had also come across one campsite in Indian Territory that showed the hoofprint, and Thomas realized that the rider was now alone.

“What does that mean, Thomas?” Matthew had asked. “Is it Ethan Langer, or the man who was ridin’ with him?”

Of course, there was nothing in the cold camp that could tell them that. Thomas mounted up after inspecting the ground around the dead campfire.

“We’re gonna have to assume it’s Ethan, Matthew,” he said. “After all, he’s headed in the direction of Oklahoma City.”

“If it’s the wrong man, Pa’s gonna be real mad.”

“I think, when we explain the situation to Pa,” Thomas said, “he’ll understand.”

“I wonder how him and James are doin’?”

“Better than we are, I hope.”

“Hey, I just thought of somethin’.”

“What?”

“Where are we supposed to meet up with them when we’re all done?”

“Don’t worry, Matthew,” Thomas said. “Pa pulled me aside before we left and said that we could all find each other in Epitaph.”

The thought of seeing his father and brother again, and in Epitaph, made Matthew doubly happy.

“That’s good,” he said, “that’s real good.”

Along the way they’d had one encounter with a Cherokee hunting party—five braves—just as they had their last time through the territory.

“Are these the same ones, Thomas?” Matthew asked nervously.

“I don’t know, Matthew,” Thomas said, “but we’ll treat them the same way Pa treated the others.”

Through sign language, the Cherokee indicated they were hungry. Thomas offered them some beef jerky, as he had seen his father do, but they wanted more. He ended up offering them everything else they had, but kept the beef jerky for themselves. The Cherokee seemed to like this idea and made the bargain. They left the brothers in peace.

“Indians don’t seem so bad,” Matthew said, and they rode their separate ways.

“I guess nobody is, if you treat them fairly.”

As they rode into Oklahoma City, Matthew said, “What do we do now, Thomas? We still don’t know whose trail we followed.”

“If it’s Ethan’s trail,” Thomas replied, “he’ll go to his brother’s church.”

“So we have to go there?”

“Not yet,” Thomas said. “Let’s see if we can find a place to stay near there, and a place to board the horses.”

“Why don’t we just go in?”

“Because Ethan is dangerous,” Thomas said. “Because we don’t have Pa with us and we have to do this right. If we just go walkin’ in there, he might start shootin’. What if there’s other people in the church? What if his brother, the priest, gets shot?”

“Okay, Thomas,” Matthew said, “you’re the boss. I just got one other question.”

“What’s that?”

“Do you remember where the church is?”

Thomas frowned, thought a moment, and said, “We’ll ask somebody.”

Ethan Langer awoke with a start and went for his gun. He sat straight up when he realized it wasn’t there. He looked around and saw he was in a room that was bare except for the bed he was on and a chest of drawers. The walls were stone, and the window a square cut out in the wall.

Was he in jail?

“What the—” he said, sitting up.

At that moment the thick wooden door opened and Father Vincent came in. “I heard you yell,” he said.

“Where the hell am I?” Ethan demanded.

“You’re in the church, Ethan,” Vincent said. “Don’t you remember? You got here yesterday.”

Ethan didn’t remember, and that bothered him. “Where the hell is my gun?”

Father Vincent winced at his brother’s language, but said, “In the top drawer.”

Ethan stood up, pulled the top drawer open, and removed his gun belt. He strapped it on and immediately felt better.

“And where are my saddlebags?”

“Bottom drawer.”

Ethan opened the drawer and found the saddlebags. He opened one, saw the cash, then closed it and the drawer.

“How long have I been here?”

“As I said,” Vincent responded, “you arrived yesterday. It’s only been one day.”

“Did I…say anything when I got here?”

“Only that you and Aaron had quarreled, and had gone your separate ways,” Vincent answered. “I’m sorry.”

“Never mind that,” Ethan said. “I don’t need him. What else did I say?”

“That you were still having those dreams, about the woman.”

Ethan rubbed his face vigorously with his hands. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, “that’s why I came here. You gotta help me get rid of her, Vincent. I—I’m startin’ to hear her when I’m awake.”

“She—She talks to you, Ethan?”

“She laughs at me!”

“I told you last time you were here how I thought you ought to proceed—”

“Never mind that,” Ethan said. “Tell me how to get rid of her.” He drew his gun and pointed it at his brother. “If you don’t help me, Vincent, so help me I’ll kill you.”

Father Vincent stared at his brother for a few moments, then said, “I believe you, Ethan. Put the gun away and I’ll try to think of a way to help you.”

“You better,” Ethan said. He holstered his gun, then looked at his brother and added, “You just better.”