Leaving Epitaph: The Sons of Daniel Shaye

6

When Dan Shaye and his sons rode into Vernon, Texas, a week after leaving Epitaph they were all bearded except for James, whose cheeks had only been able to sprout some fuzz during that time.

The young men had learned a lot from their father during that week: much about tracking, like reading sign. They now knew that when you were tracking someone, the evidence of their passing was not just on the ground, but in broken branches, as well, or places where branches and brush had been gathered for a fire. They had also learned about the proper care of a horse while on the trail—how important it was to walk a horse at times, resting it but not necessarily stopping your progress—and of making and breaking camp. James had been taught to cook by his mother, but on this trip he’d learned a thing or two about trail coffee from his father.

They’d learned about shooting too. Every day after they ate, Dan Shaye had schooled his boys on the proper use of a handgun and a rifle. Thomas, though a fair hand with a pistol, had never drawn or fired the weapon at another man. Shaye taught them where to shoot a man to be sure to bring him down, and what to do when facing a man who was better than they were with a gun. He explained that it was not the fastest man with a gun who survived, but the most accurate.

After one particular lesson, James had said, “But, Pa, that wouldn’t be fair.”

“You want to be fair, boy?” Shaye had asked him. “Or alive?”

The answer was easy for all three boys.

Along the trail the three young men had time alone with their own thoughts, both on horseback and at night, when they were camped. Shaye made them all stand watch, made sure they all knew not to stare into the fire and destroy their night vision, but there was plenty of time for introspection.

Thomas was normally a quiet person, so introspection was nothing new to him. Growing up, he often went off alone to shoot targets and think. He wanted very much to be like his father, even though his physical resemblance was to his mother. At six feet tall, he was a slender 170, and he had a good eye and fast hands. He’d asked his father on more than one occasion to make him a deputy, but his mother had always stepped in and vetoed the idea.

“I worry day and night about your father,” she’d say, “I’m not going to do the same with you or any of my boys.”

Those first seven nights on the trail, Thomas thought about those words, and now it wasn’t any of them who was dead, but her. He felt guilty that it had taken the death of his mother to get him the job he wanted—deputy to his father, whom he considered not only a great lawman, but a great man as well.

The middle brother, Matthew, was not much for thinking. At six-five, he was three inches taller than his father, but he resembled him more than either of the other two boys. He had his father’s breadth of chest and shoulders, and was narrow in the waist, the way Dan Shaye had been before he moved into his forties. Now forty-eight, Shaye had thickened somewhat, but still had his power, though less than his middle son’s, and for that he was proud rather than envious.

While on the trail, Matthew had done some thinking, and had posed many questions to himself. He would follow his father to hell and back, but he wondered what was going to happen when it was all over.

He had no doubt that he and his brothers would follow their father and be successful in killing the men who had taken their mother from them. But what then?

Would his father go back to being sheriff of Epitaph?

Would he and his brothers stay on as deputies?

Would they live in the same house?

He knew there was danger in what they were doing, but he had so much confidence in his father that he felt no fear.

In his father’s eyes, this was not a good thing.

James loved his father, but he idolized his oldest brother, the way many younger brothers did. Like his older brother, he resembled his mother more than his father, and so when the four men were together, Shaye and Matthew looked like big hulking brutes, while Thomas and James were slender and graceful. James was impressed with the way Thomas handled a gun, and hoped that someday he’d be able to do the same. During the target shooting they’d done while on the trail, he had begun to display certain natural abilities with a handgun, but he still had a long way to go to match Thomas—and they both had far to go to be ready to face another man with a gun.

James missed his mother terribly, but felt that he was on a great adventure with his father and brothers, and he hoped that the adventure would not only continue, but escalate.

Like his brother Matthew, James felt no fear.

Thomas, on the other hand, was worried about his father and his two brothers, was afraid that something might happen to them. But he worried little about himself. For someone who had never faced another man with a gun, he was inordinately confident.

For his part, Dan Shaye worried about all his sons. Thomas was too confident, Matthew too brave, and James too headstrong and adventurous. He knew that all of these qualities would have to be tempered with his own experience—and yet could he keep a tight rein on his boys and his own rage?

By the time they rode into Vernon, Texas, all of the Shaye men had had their share of deep thoughts. Also, though they hadn’t met the Langer gang, they came upon their trail in two other towns, which told them they were on the right track.

“How long we stayin’, Pa?” James asked.

“How long do you want to stay, James?”

“Well,” the younger Shaye said, rubbing his face, “long enough for a shave, maybe. I’m startin’ to itch.”

Matthew, who had the heaviest beard of the four, reached out and touched James’s face.

“You got nothin’ but peach fuzz there, little brother,” he said, laughing. “Why don’t you wait until you got a man’s full growth of beard before you complain?”

James brushed Matthew’s tree trunk arm away from him, while Thomas had a good laugh.

“I have to talk to the local law,” Shaye said, “and it’s a few hours from dark. We’ll stay the night, and you boys can all get a shave and a bath.”

“A bath!” Matthew said, appalled. “Why would we want to take a bath, Pa?”

“Because, Matthew,” James said, “some of us smell like a goat.”

Matthew squinted his eyes at his younger brother and said, “You wouldn’t be talkin’ about me, would you, little brother?”

“You all smell like goats,” Shaye said, “and so do I. Take your horses to the livery, be sure they’re fed and bedded down, and then get us two rooms at the hotel. Thomas, you’ll be in a room with me.”

“Yes, Pa.”

“And you’re in charge of these two,” Shaye went on. “After you get the rooms, see that they’re bathed, shaved, and that they keep out of trouble.”

“Yes, Pa…. Pa?”

“What?”

“Do you know the local lawman here?”

“Yes,” Shay said. “He’s an old friend of mine, name of Sam Torrence.”

“I heard you mention him. Weren’t you deputies together?”

“Years ago, boy,” Shaye said, “a lot of years ago.”

“Want us to take your horse, Pa?” James asked.

“I’ll take care of my animal,” Shaye said, “you boys take care of your own.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll meet you back at the hotel in two hours.”

“Two hours?” Matthew complained. “That’s barely time to see to our horses and have a bath and a shave.”

“And no time to get into trouble,” Shaye said. “That’s about what I had in mind, boy.”