“Well,” Shaye said, “maybe what’s left after we reoutfit.”
They went to the livery for their horses, then rode to the general store to spend some of the money they’d won. They all came out carrying canvas bags which they tied to their saddles, having split all the supplies evenly between them.
As they mounted up to leave, Shaye noticed Sheriff Ray Stover standing out in front of his office, watching them.
“Wait here a second,” Shaye told his sons. He turned his horse and directed it over to where the sheriff was standing.
“Sheriff Shaye,” Stover said.
“Sheriff Stover.”
“Headin’ out?”
“That’s right.”
Ray Stover looked off into the distance. Shaye knew the man had something to tell him, figured he’d let him get to it in his own time.
Finally, Stover looked up at Shaye, who was patiently sitting his horse. “You want to head toward Oklahoma City.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Well…it’s just a feelin’ I have, ya know?” Stover said. “Kind of a lawman’s feelin’?”
Now it was Shaye’s turn to look off into the distance, toward Oklahoma City. “Yes, I know,” he said. “I’ve had those feelings myself.”
“I figured you would’ve.”
“Thanks, Sheriff.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Shaye turned his horse, then turned it again so he was facing Stover once more. “You know, if you’re lying to me…”
“Yes,” Stover said, “I know.”
Shaye nodded, then turned his horse and rode to join his sons.
25
“Why are we headin’ for Oklahoma City?” Terry Petry asked Ethan Langer. “I thought we had to head north to meet the rest.”
Langer took a moment before answering Petry. Normally he would have either backhanded the man from his saddle for questioning him or just outright killed him. Aaron, he knew, would have killed Petry without a thought. But then Aaron wasn’t having those dreams.
“Ethan?”
“We aren’t headin’ north, Petry,” Langer said. “We’re headin’ northeast.”
“Yeah,” Petry said, “but why?”
Langer turned his head to glare at the other man, who had ridden up alongside him to ask him the questions. The other men were laying back, their shoulders hunched against what they thought was coming.
“Since when do I have to explain my reasons to you, Petry?” he demanded.
“Hey, Ethan,” Petry said, “a lot of us are askin’ the same question, ya know? I’m the only one figured I could ride up and ask ya without getting’ shot.”
“Look into my eyes, Terry,” Langer said. “Are you still sure that’s true?”
Petry did look into Ethan Langer’s eyes, and he didn’t like what he saw—at all.
“Forget it, Ethan,” Petry said. “Just forget it.”
“That’s right, Terry,” Langer said. “You ride back and tell the others to forget it. They can either follow me or go their own way—but if they go, they forfeit their share of the last job. Got it?”
“I got it, Ethan.”
“Good, then pass it along.”
Petry pulled back and joined the other men, leaving Langer alone with his thoughts—thoughts about his dreams. That woman was still there, every night, screaming in his dreams. He wondered if hearing her scream in real life would have kept him from hearing it in his dreams.
He needed to talk to somebody, but not any of the men he was riding with. He’d considered talking to Aaron, his older brother, except he wasn’t sure that Aaron would understand. He didn’t even understand. Somebody had to explain it to him, and the only person he knew who could do it lived in Oklahoma City. Once they stopped there, they could still continue north through Indian Territory to meet up with Aaron and his men. Hopefully, by then the woman would be gone from his dreams—and maybe even his dreams would be gone.
Maybe then he’d be able to get some peace in his sleep.
26
The Shayes camped between Lawton and Oklahoma City. There wasn’t much else in between the two, but they had outfitted enough in Lawton to be able to make the trip, as long as they rationed their food and drink well enough. Actually, they didn’t even need to ration it, just manage it so it would last another hundred miles.
“If they’re really going to Oklahoma City, then we’re only a couple of days good ride behind them, ain’t we, Pa?” James asked.
“That’s about right.”
“Whether or not we catch up to them,” Thomas said, “depends on how long they stay there—that is, if they’re really goin’ there.”
“I think that sheriff was too afraid of Pa to lie to him,” Matthew said.
“Is that right, Pa?” James asked. “He was scared of you?”
“Maybe he just wanted to do the right thing,” Shaye said.
“Pa,” James said, “tell us some stories about when you was an outlaw.”
Shaye looked across the fire at his youngest son.
“Why?” he asked. “Why would you want to hear about a time in my life I’m not proud of?”
“Because you’re my pa,” James said. “And in the last couple of days I guess I figure we don’t know as much about you as we thought we did.”
Shaye remained silent.
“And maybe,” Thomas said, “maybe we didn’t know as much about Ma as we thought we did…and now she’s dead. Maybe we don’t wanna have questions about you, Pa, when you ain’t around to answer them.”
Now Shaye examined the faces of all three of his sons in the flickering firelight.
“Fair enough,” he said at last. “I won’t tell stories, but I’ll answer your questions.”
“Okay,” James said, “me first. You ever kill anybody?”
“Before or after I put on a badge?” Shaye asked.
“Not while you’ve been Sheriff Dan Shaye,” Thomas said, “but back when you were Shay Daniels.”
Shaye took a deep breath. “Shay Daniels killed some men, yes.”
“How many?” Matthew asked.
“To be honest,” Shaye said, “I never counted. I never murdered anyone, though. I wasn’t that bad. I wasn’t Jesse James or Billy the Kid.”
“But you were good with a gun?”
Shaye held his right hand out. At the moment it was big, with thick fingers, a powerful hand.
“My hands were different then,” he said. “They were like Thomas’s hands. That’s why Thomas is good with a gun and Matthew isn’t.”
“And me?” James asked, holding out his hand.
