Leaving Epitaph: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

75

Father Vincent didn’t get very far with the Last Rites because they heard a woman screaming and shouting from outside. Thomas didn’t want to leave Matthew, but he gently laid his brother’s head back down on the floor and ran to the door, followed by the priest. Outside, a woman was screaming and wringing her hands.

“Mrs. Paul,” Father Vincent said, “what is it?”

“A man,” she said, “a man came out of the church with a gun and took my daughter.”

“Jenny? He took Jenny?”

“Yes, yes,” she said, still wringing her hands, “he took her. Why did he take her?”

Vincent looked at Thomas. “She’s six,” he said, “six years old.”

Thomas looked at the woman. She was faded, looked too old and worn-out to have a daughter that young.

“Which way did he go?” Thomas asked.

“Across the square,” she said, pointing. “He ran across the square, draggin’ my baby—”

“Stay with her,” Thomas said to the priest, “and with my brother.”

“But—”

Thomas didn’t wait any longer. He drew his gun and started running. Father Vincent was caught in a quandary. There was a dead man on the floor of his church, Mrs. Paul needed comforting, and a man was chasing his brother with the goal of killing him.

Like any man with too many options, he just froze.

Ethan had his gun in his right hand and the little girl on his left. He alternately dragged her and lifted her off the ground. Either way, she kicked and screamed for help. People were getting out of his way, pointing and shouting, and he knew he was leaving an easy trail to follow. No one made a move to try and stop him, though. The people in this city were the same as the people in Epitaph had been. No one would step up and lend a hand, try to help.

He’d had no time to think about killing the lawman. Would killing the son get rid of the mother who was haunting him? He didn’t know. Had Vincent, his own brother, sent the law after him, after making an excuse to leave the church? He didn’t know that either. He didn’t know much, and he especially didn’t know where he was running to.

He wished the girl he was carrying would stop screaming.

Ethan was leaving an easy trail for Thomas to follow. In fact, people pointed the way, helping him follow in Ethan’s wake. Also, as he got closer, Thomas could hear the girl screaming. He tried to put the sight of Matthew lying dead on the floor of the church out of his mind and just concentrate on catching Ethan—the man who had killed both his mother and his brother.

Ethan staggered in the middle of the street now, unsure of which way to go. He held the girl tightly, trying not to pay attention to her screaming, but it was echoing in his ears, and it seemed to be in unison with the screams that were already there.

“Stop screaming!” he shouted, turning in circles. “Stop screaming, damn it!”

He wasn’t only shouting at the little girl.

Thomas turned a corner and came to an abrupt stop. Ethan was standing in the middle of the street, waving his gun, holding the squirming little girl in his hand like a rag doll, shouting, “Stop screaming! Stop screaming!”

The poor girl’s head bounced around as he shook her. Her arms and legs were flapping about.

Thomas stopped, also in the middle of the street, and pointed his gun. All the riding, all the searching, all the death had led up to this moment.

“Ethan Langer!”

Ethan didn’t hear Thomas shout at first, because the girl was still screaming, and there was screaming going on in his head. It was as if the dead woman was right in his ear, screaming along with the little girl. The two of them were making his head feel as if it was going to explode.

Then, abruptly, he heard his name, and there was silence.

For some reason, the little girl fell silent, and the entire street was quiet. People had fled to the sidewalks or ducked into buildings to watch from windows. There were only three people on the street now—Ethan Langer, Thomas Shaye, and Jenny, the little girl.

Ethan turned at the sound of his name, holding the girl in front of him, her feet dangling in the air. “Who are you?” he shouted. “Another deputy?”

“That’s right,” Thomas said. “I’m a deputy, and you killed my mother, and my brother.”

“Another brother?” Ethan asked. “Jesus, am I gonna get to kill your whole family?”

“I don’t think so, Ethan,” Thomas said, “because it all ends here. This is the deputy who gets to kill you. Let the girl go.”

“Wait,” Ethan said, cocking his head. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Thomas asked.

“That…that laughter,” Ethan said, looking around. “First she screams, and then she laughs. Your goddamn mother was haunting my dreams, but now I hear her when I’m awake.”

“That’s because that’s what you deserve,” Thomas said. The man must have been going mad, but that was no excuse for the things he’d done or for what he was doing now. “To be haunted the rest of your life—which isn’t going to go on much longer.”

Ethan brought his gun hand up to the side of his head and pounded on his ear.

“Get out of my head!” he shouted. “Get out, get out, get…out!”

For a moment Thomas thought the man was going to shoot himself in the head, but it didn’t happen.

“Ethan!” Thomas shouted. He wanted to be heard over his mother’s voice, which Ethan was obviously still hearing. “Let the girl go.” Thomas pointed his gun, but Ethan was holding the girl high, and she was blocking his torso. Thomas had two targets—Ethan’s legs. He could have tried for a head shot, but the girl’s head was partially blocking that as well. If he tried, he might end up killing the little girl.

“Ethan! Put her down!”

There was no doubt in Thomas’s mind that he was going to take a shot. He kept trying to get Ethan to let the girl go, but either way it was going to end here. Ethan Langer was not going to get off this street alive. If he didn’t kill him, how would he ever explain that to his pa?

“Goddamn it!” Ethan shouted. He pointed his gun at Thomas. “You wanna kill this little girl? You go ahead and take the shot. What’re ya, afraid?”

In the end, Thomas took the shot not to save the little girl’s life, but to save his own. Ethan had his gun pointed at Thomas and was obviously ready to pull the trigger. Thomas had no intention of just standing there and letting the man kill him. He’d already killed too many members of the Shaye family.

Thomas lowered the barrel of his gun and fired. His bullet hit Ethan in the right shin, completely shattering the bone. There was an explosion of blood, soaking the dirt beneath Ethan’s feet. The outlaw howled in pain and released the little girl. He fell to the ground, grabbing for his shin, dropping his gun. The girl ran toward Thomas, her arms outstretched.

Thomas dropped to one knee and caught her in his arms.

“Are you all right, sweetheart?” he asked. He held her at arm’s length and looked her over. She seemed unharmed.

She nodded. He thought she must be a brave little girl, because she wasn’t crying. She grabbed him, though, and hugged him tightly, and he hugged her back for a few moments before holding her at arm’s length once again.

“You go and wait for me over there by that building,” he told her, “and then I’ll take you to your mother. Okay? I promise. Just stay there and wait.”

Reluctantly, the girl left the safe haven of Thomas’s arms and went to wait for him.

Thomas got to his feet and walked to where Ethan was rolling around on the ground, both hands bloody from his leg.

“You crippled me, damn it!” the outlaw shouted. “You sonofabitch, you crippled me.”

His gun was lying in the street, so Thomas gave it a good kick and sent it skittering away. Then he pointed his gun at Ethan’s head.

Ethan glared up at him, both hands wrapped around his shattered leg, and said, “Do it! Do it, goddamn it!”

Thomas’s finger tightened on the trigger. This was what it all came down to.

“Go head, put me out of my misery,” Ethan said. “She’s never gonna stop, she’ll never leave me alone, will she?”

“No,” Thomas said, “she won’t.”

“Then kill me, damn it.”

Thomas was a hair from pulling the trigger when he suddenly lowered the gun. He fired once more, shattering the other leg. Ethan screamed.

“What are you doin’?” Ethan cried out.

“You’re goin’ to jail, Ethan,” Thomas said. “You’re goin’ to Huntsville. There, as a cripple, you’ll be fair game for anyone who wants to have at you, and my mother will be in your head all your waking and sleeping hours.” Thomas holstered his weapon. “Why would I want to save you from that?”

Beyond Ethan, Thomas could see policemen rushing toward them. He turned and walked back to the little girl, leaving Ethan for them to handle. He was going to take the little girl back to her mother, and care for his brother.

“Ya can’t kill me because you’re yella!” Ethan was shouting at Thomas. “Yer yella, like your brother! Come back here and kill me! Come back here….”