Leaving Epitaph

by Robert J. Randisi

  Leaving Epitaph

  Robert J. Randisi

  The sheriff of Epitaph, Texas, Dan Shaye was a hard but just defender of the law -- a devoted husband and father who kept the truth about his violent past from the townfolk he protected. But then the hardcase Ethan Langer gang galloped into town looking to rob the local bank. And when they rode out again, Dan's beloved wife Mary was lying dead in the Texas dust.

  Now the time has come for Daniel Shaye to leave Epitaph, maybe for good, with his three motherless adult sons at his side. For the only justice that will serve is going to come from a rifle or a rope -- as the four Shayes band together to uphold a new law ... called revenge.

  THE SONS OF DANIEL SHAYE

  LEAVING EPITAPH

  ROBERT J. RANDISI

  To the sons of Bob Randisi

  1

  He never expected that a handful of dirt striking the top of a coffin would make such a loud sound.

  Daniel Shaye stepped back from his wife’s open grave to allow his three sons to approach. One at a time they opened their hands and let the dirt fall. Each time it sounded loud as a drum to Shaye.

  The three boys stepped back and stood abreast of their father, and the four of them folded their hands in front of them. As the townspeople filed by them, offering their condolences, the four men stood like stone. No one in the town had done a thing while Ethan Langer and his gang had ridden Mary Shaye down in the street while making their escape after robbing the bank. Neither her husband nor any of her sons would ever forgive them for that.

  The last to approach them was the reverend.

  “You can’t hold these good people responsible for what happened, Daniel,” Reverend Henry Mitchell said.

  “Why not, Reverend?” Shaye asked.

  “It was not their job to try and stop those bank robbers.”

  “Job?” Shaye asked. “Who’s talking about a job, Reverend? They had a moral obligation to try to help my wife. Any sort of action might have caused that gang to stop, or swerve, or change direction. Mary was just crossing the street, carrying a bolt of fabric in her arms, and those animals trampled her into the dirt. That was no way for a woman to die—no way for my wife to die. It was senseless.”

  “Still—”

  “Save your breath, Reverend.” Thomas Shaye, at twenty-five, was the oldest of the three sons. Physically, however, he resembled his mother, favoring her slighter frame over his father’s powerful one. “Ain’t none of us listenin’.”

  “We wouldn’t be listenin’ if God Hisself was talkin’,” said James, nineteen.

  “That’s blasphemy, boy,” the reverend said sternly, but he took a step back when twenty-three-year-old Matthew, the largest of the boys, spoke.

  “It was blasphemy what happened to our maw, Reverend!” he snapped. “If there even was a God, why would He let that happen?”

  Henry Mitchell had been the reverend in Epitaph, Texas, for thirteen years. He’d known Daniel Shaye and his family since they moved to town twelve years ago. He not only considered himself the keeper of their souls, but he thought of Daniel Shaye as a good friend.

  He recovered his composure and said to Daniel, “You should tell your boys not to blaspheme the Lord, Dan—”

  “My wife is dead, Henry,” Dan Shaye said, cutting him off. “You think I care what you or the Lord thinks?”

  “You’re all grieving,” Mitchell said. “I know you don’t mean what you’re saying—”

  “Reverend,” Daniel Shaye said, “when have you ever known me not to mean what I say? And I raised my boys the same way. We speak our minds, and right now we don’t have God in our minds, or in our hearts.”

  “What then? Vengeance?” Mitchell asked.

  “You bet,” Shaye said.

  “As sheriff of Epitaph it’s your job to capture those men, and bring the money they stole back to town, Daniel,” Mitchell said. “Vengeance should have nothing to do with that.”

  “It’s my job to catch ’em, Reverend,” Shaye said, “but it’s gonna be my pleasure to kill ’em.”

  With that he turned and walked away from his wife’s grave. They had chosen to bury her out in a field behind their house, and not on Boot Hill with all the others. He had not wanted his loving wife to be buried with any of those miscreants on the hill.

  Thomas, Matthew, and James Shaye all gave the reverend one last, hard look and then turned and followed their father back to the house.

  The boys found their father standing in front of the cold fireplace, staring, arms folded. They exchanged anxious looks, but none of them said a word for several moments. When their father failed to acknowledge them, Thomas finally took it upon himself to break the silence.

  “Pa?”

  Shaye didn’t answer.

  “Pa?” Thomas said again.

  “Boys,” Shaye said, without turning.

  “What are we gonna do, Pa?” Thomas asked.

  Daniel Shaye moved one hand, passed it across his face, then refolded his arms again.

  “I’m going after the gang,” he finally said.

  “Alone?” Thomas asked.

  “With a posse.”

  “It’s been three days, Pa,” Matthew said.

  “That’s okay, Matthew,” Shaye said. “I’ll find them.”

  “Can we come, Pa?” James asked.

  Now Shaye turned to face his sons. “No.”

  “But Pa—” Thomas said.

  “No,” Shaye said again, sternly. “Your mother would never forgive me if anything happened to you boys.”

  “Ma’s dead, Pa,” Thomas said. “We’ve got to do somethin’.”

  “I know that, Thomas,” Shaye said. “The answer is still no.”

  “Pa—” James started.

  “The discussion is over.”

  He turned and faced the fireplace again. The boys looked at each other and remained silent, but they knew the discussion was not over.

  2

  The day after his wife was buried, Sheriff Daniel Shaye stood across the desk from Mayor Charles Garnett.

  “The town wants to know when you’re going after the gang, Dan,” Garnett said.

  “Worried about their money, are they?”

  “Yes, they’re very worried about their money,” the mayor said. “Most of the town had their money in the bank, Dan. Jesus, this is 1889, for Chrissake. There’s not supposed to be bank robbers anymore.”

  Shaye stared at the florid-faced mayor, a big man in his fifties whose face always shone red when he was distressed.

  “If the town’s so concerned, Mayor, then how come no one will volunteer for a posse?”

  Mayor Garnett sat back in his chair. “You want the honest truth, Dan?”

  “Honesty would be a nice change, coming from a politician, Charlie,” Shaye said.

  “I don’t think I deserved that.”

  Shaye did not reply.

  “They’re afraid of you, Dan.”

  “What?”

  “It’s been four days since Mary’s…since Mary died, only one since she was buried,” Garnett explained. “The whole town turned out for her funeral, and all they felt from you was hate.”

  “Where was the whole town when the Langer gang rode Mary down, Charlie?”

  “I’ve talked with the reverend, Dan,” Garnett said. “You can’t blame the whole town for that. That was the Langer gang. Blame them. Hate them. Go after them.”

  “I am going after them, Charlie,” Shaye said, “with or without a posse.”

  “What about your deputies?”

  “They quit.”

  “Did they say why?”

  “They didn’t say a word,” Shaye answered. “I found their badges on my desk this morning.”

  “They’re
afraid of you too, Dan.”

  “What about you, Mayor?” Shaye asked. “Are you also afraid of me?”

  Garnett hesitated, then said, “A little. I’ve never seen you like this, Dan. I’ve never seen a man so filled with…rage. You…you…vibrate with it. Containing it seems to take all your strength. I don’t think anyone wants to be around when it comes out.”

  “The only ones who have to fear that is the Langer gang.”

  “It’s been four days,” Garnett said. “They’re getting farther and farther away with our money.”

  “Is that all you’re worried about, Mayor?” Shaye asked. “All you’re concerned with? The money?”

  “Of course not, Dan,” Garnett said. “We want them brought to justice for what they did to Mary, but be realistic. You can’t bring Mary back, but you can bring them—and the money—back.”

  For a moment Mayor Garnett thought he’d gone too far. That barely contained rage he’d seen before flared in Dan Shaye’s eyes and then subsided.

  “Dan,” Charlie Garnett said, “we’re friends. We’ve been friends for twelve years, since you and Mary brought the boys here and you took the job as sheriff. I think I should be able to speak freely here.”

  Shaye hesitated, then said, “Go ahead.”

  “I think,” Garnett said, very carefully, “what you’re feeling is not so much anger as guilt.”

  “Over what?”

  “You weren’t there when Mary…when the gang hit the bank. You didn’t get there in time to stop them, or to save her.”

  “I was at the other end of town, Mayor,” Shaye said, “doing my job.”

  “I know that, Dan,” Garnett said, “and so do you. There was nothing you could have done.”

  “Oh, but there was,” Shaye said. “If I’d been there I could have stopped them.”

  “All eight of them?”

  “I would have stopped them,” Shaye said again. “I would have kept Mary alive.”

  “Dan—”

  “Charlie,” Shaye said, cutting the man off, “I’m going after that gang even if I have to go alone. I’m going to kill them, one by one—”

  “Dan,” Garnett said, “that’s not your job—”

  “—and if they still have the money, I’ll bring it back here,” Shaye went on, not giving the mayor a chance to finish. “But understand this: My first duty is to my dead wife, and to my sons, to avenge their mother’s death. My duty is not to a town that stood by and watched her die, or who will stand by now and not volunteer to lift a finger to help hunt them down.”

  “They’re storekeepers, Dan,” Garnett said, “not manhunters.”

  “No,” Shaye said, “that’s me. I’m the manhunter, and that’s what I’m going to do. Hunt them down.”

  “Alone.”

  “Yes, if I have to,” Shaye said. “What I need to know is, do you want this badge back?”

  “If I take that badge, then you’ll have no authority to hunt them,” Garnett said. “You’ll be no better than a bounty hunter.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I won’t do that to you, Dan,” Garnett said. “I told you, we’re friends. You keep the badge, and you find somebody to pin those deputies’ badges on. The town will be with you in spirit and goodwill—”

  “This town can take its spirit and goodwill and stick it up its collective ass, Charlie,” Shaye said. “And that includes you.”

  Charlie Garnett spread his beefy hands and said, “If I could even still sit a horse, I’d be right with you, Dan—”

  “Save it, Charlie,” Shaye said. “You’re all alike, all of you storekeepers and politicians.” He turned, stalked over to the door, opened it, then stood there with his hand on the knob. “I’ll be leaving in the morning. I’ll outfit myself from the general store. I assume the town will foot the bill?”

  “Of course. It’s the least we can do.”

  “It’s the very least you will do, Charlie.”

  “Dan—”

  Shaye stopped with one foot out the door. “What?”

  “What are you going to do for deputies?”

  “I don’t know, Charlie,” Shaye said, “but with or without deputies or a posse, I’m leaving in the morning.”

  As Sheriff Daniel Shaye walked out the door, slamming it behind him, Mayor Charles Garnett thought that, one way or another, he would never see Shaye again.

  3

  On the street in front of City Hall, Dan Shaye stopped and stood on the boardwalk. People walked past him and lowered their eyes, not wanting to meet his. He had thought for years that they were his friends, his wife’s friends, but the events of the past few days had proven him wrong. They were not his friends. He was the sheriff, and they were the town, and there would always be a barrier between them.

  He stepped into the street and crossed over, headed for his office. He knew his days as sheriff of Epitaph were numbered. He needed the badge only to give him some semblance of authority while he hunted the gang, even though he was sure to end up out of his jurisdiction. After that, from wherever he ended up, he’d send it back to them.

  He’d spent the better part of the day trying to replace his deputies or round up a posse, and had failed at both. Now there was only one course of action left to him.

  When he reached his office, he opened the door and stepped inside. He found three men waiting for him, and they were all wearing deputy’s badges.

  “Hello, boys,” he said to his three sons.

  Earlier in the day the three boys had talked while at the house, which was situated at the south end of town. They had spent the past twelve years there, but now it felt oddly empty.

  “What are we gonna do, Thomas?” James asked his older brother. “We can’t just let Pa go after those men without us.”

  “He ain’t gonna get a posse up,” Matthew said. “And his deputies have already quit.”

  Matthew had gone to town earlier in the day to get some idea of what was happening, and had returned with this news.

  “There’s only one thing we can do, boys,” Thomas said. “We got to be Pa’s deputies.”

  “He used to call us that, when I was little,” James said. “His little deputies, remember?”

  “I remember,” Matthew said. “Ma used to tell him not to even think about it.”

  “Well,” Thomas said, “he’s gonna have to think about it now, ’cause we’re all he’s got. And we got a right to avenge Ma’s death, just as much as he has.”

  “Even me?” James asked hopefully.

  “Even you, James,” Thomas said. “You’re a man growed, just like we are.”

  “So what do we do, Thomas?” Matthew asked.

  “We go to town,” Thomas said, “and we don’t give Pa a choice.”

  “We stand up to him?” Matthew asked.

  “That’s what we do.”

  “We ain’t never done that before,” James said.

  “Well, we’re gonna have to do it now,” Thomas said. “We got to be together on this. Matthew?”

  The middle brother took a moment to think, then nodded and said, “Yes.”

  “James?”

  “Oh, yes,” the younger brother said without hesitation.

  “Then let’s go to town, boys.”

  The three boys had just pinned on the badges they’d found on top of and inside the desk when their father walked into the office.

  “What have we here?” he asked.

  “Deputies, Pa,” Thomas said.

  “Three of us,” Matthew said.

  “We heard what was happening in town,” James said. “You need us, Pa.”

  “And we deserve to go along,” Thomas said. “She was our mother. We got a right to avenge her death.”

  Dan Shaye studied his three sons. They all stood as tall as he, Matthew even taller and bigger. They all wore guns. He knew that Thomas could shoot. He knew that Matthew’s size and strength made him deadly in a fight. James was nineteen, though. He could not shoot like his
older brother, nor could he fight like Matthew. But he had the same rights as the other two boys.

  “Pa?” Thomas said.

  “My three deputies,” Shaye said. “Your mother would kill me for pinning those badges on you.”

  “You didn’t pin ’em on us,” Thomas pointed out.

  “We pinned ’em on ourselves,” James added.

  “Yeah,” Dan Shaye said, “yeah, you did.”

  In truth, Shaye had already decided that his only course of action was to take his sons along, after first deputizing them. They had never gone against another man in a fight, never killed another man, but he had no choice. If he was going to catch up to the Langer gang and make them pay for what they had done to Mary Shaye, he couldn’t go alone.

  “You boys have to do what I say, when I say.”

  “We will, Pa,” Thomas said.

  “Every step of the way,” Shaye added, “no questions asked.”

  “We will,” Matthew said.

  “James?”

  “Yeah, Pa?”

  “You’ll have to do the cooking.”

  James smiled and said, “Right, Pa.”

  Shaye stepped forward and spread his arms wide. The three boys stepped forward and all four embraced briefly, but powerfully.

  “Let’s go and get outfitted, then,” Shaye said. “Like somebody just told me, it’s the least this town can do.”

  4

  The Shaye men spent the rest of the day outfitting themselves with clothing, weapons, food, and horses. In every store they entered they received nothing but cooperation, but no one dared look any of them in the eye.

  The clothing they bought had to be good for warm or cold weather, whichever way the trail took them. The food had to be carried between them, because Shaye didn’t want any pack animals slowing them down. Jerky, bacon, and beans would make up their diet for as long as the hunt took.

  Shaye allowed the boys to go and buy the clothing and food without him, but he accompanied them to buy weapons and horses. Thomas carried a new Peacemaker and was able to shoot very well with it. Matthew had an old Navy Colt, and James did not have a gun of his own. Shaye obtained for Matthew and James guns identical to their older brother’s, and they all got the newest model Winchester. All four of them got a new horse for the hunt, picked more for stamina than speed. None of the boys complained about leaving their own horses behind.