“What are you strangers doin’ with our women?” Pat demanded.
Matthew and James turned to face the men, who caught sight of the stars on their chest.
Pat got a nudge from behind and somebody whispered in his ear, “Lawmen.”
The six were just ranch hands, and the only laws they broke was when they got into a fight in some saloon each week and caused some damage.
Pat grabbed for Tim’s arm, but Tim pulled it away.
“They’re lawmen, Tim,” Pat said hastily.
“That don’t make no never mind,” Tim said, peering at their badges. “They ain’t local. They got no—watchacallit—jurisprudence here.”
“Hey, friend,” Thomas said, “we were just keepin’ the ladies company until you got here. Why don’t we all have a drink and you can take your girls with you—”
“We ain’t their girls!” Dora complained loudly.
“Yeah,” Henri agreed, holding tightly to Matthew’s thick arm. “They think we are, but we’re always telllin’ them we’re not.” She looked up at Matthew, fluttered her eyelashes at him and said, “Make them go away, Matthew…please?”
“Matthew—” Thomas said, but he was too late.
The larger of the three brothers turned to face the ranch hands full on and said, “You heard the ladies, gents. Move along.”
“James,” Thomas said, but his young brother had already turned to face the six men so he could back up Matthew.
“You hear that, Pat?” Tim asked. “Now they’re sayin’ they ain’t our girls.”
“Well,” Pat said, “maybe they ain’t, Tim—”
“Pat’s givin’ his girl away, now,” Lou, one of the other men, said. He was big and beefy, and nudged Pat so hard that he propelled him forward, almost into Matthew, who put his big hand out to steady him.
“Easy,” Matthew said.
“Don’t push!” Pat snapped. He was talking to Lou, but Matthew thought he was talking to him.
“I didn’t push you, friend,” he said. “I just put out my hand to keep you from fallin’, is all.”
“No, I didn’t mean—” Pat started, but Tim pulled him out of the way so he could face Matthew, who now became his focus.
“You think your badge scares me?” he demanded. “Or your size? My pal Lou, here, could eat you for breakfast.”
Matthew looked at Lou, who puffed out his chest and smiled. Lou Scales was in his thirties, a full ten or twelve years older than Matthew. He was roughly the same height, but clearly outweighed the younger man by thirty pounds or more—most of it around his middle.
“My brother could handle your friend with no problem,” James shot back.
Thomas could see the situation getting out of hand. It had switched from the girls to who was bigger or badder, Matthew or this fella Lou.
“Now look, fellas,” he said, “nobody wants any trouble—”
“Your badges don’t mean nothin’ here!” Tim snapped.
“You’re right about that,” Thomas said, still trying to defuse the situation.
“We could kick the crap out of the three of you and nobody could do anything about it.”
“Well,” Thomas said, “that’s not quite true. I mean, we’d have to try and do somethin’ about it—”
“Me and my brothers can handle six saddle tramps like you!” James spat.
“Oh yeah?” Tim asked.
Thomas knew he couldn’t be sucked into this, that he had to do something before somebody went for a gun. They had become the center of attention in the saloon, which had suddenly become crowded. Now, as if sensing that gunplay was in the offing, everyone shrank away from them, hugging the walls and giving them room.
In that single moment the action could have gone in many directions.
20
Thomas was wracking his brain, trying to find a way to avoid trouble, when James spoke up.
“You know,” the younger brother said, “this really wouldn’t be fair, six against three. We got enough witnesses here who would say it wasn’t a fair fight.”
That seemed to stop Tim and his friends for a moment.
“My brother’s right,” Thomas said. “There’s a way to resolve this without anybody gettin’ in trouble, or gettin’ hurt.”
“Resolve?” Tim asked, frowning.
“Settle it,” Thomas said, “there’s a way to settle this.”
The six ranch hands seemed to need a way to settle it, since Thomas had already offered them the girls.
“Howzat?” Tim asked.
Tim looked at James to see if he had anything to say, but the younger brother simply shrugged. It was up to Thomas to come up with a clever solution.
Since Matthew and Lou were still eyeing each other, Thomas said, “We each pick one man, and the two of them go at it.”
Tim frowned. “Go at it how? Guns?”
“No,” Thomas said, “no guns. I don’t think the situation calls for guns, do you? After all, somebody could end up getting killed, and over what? A couple of girls?”
“Hey!” Dora said, but the men ignored her.
“Well,” Tim said, “maybe not…”
“Knives?” one of the other ranch hands offered.
“Somebody still gets hurt, or killed,” James said.
“Or arrested,” Thomas said.
“A fight, then,” Tim said. “Our big man against yours.”
Thomas looked at Matthew, who was still exchanging hostile glances with Lou. He remembered what had happened when his brother started to whomp the sheriff in Vernon. Getting into a barfight would constitute getting into trouble as far as Dan Shaye was concerned, and he would be held responsible.
“Arm wrestling!” James suddenly said.
“What?” Tim asked.
“That’s a good idea,” Thomas said. “We’ll have an arm wrestling match. My brother Matthew against your man Lou.” Thomas slapped his brother on the back.
“What are the stakes?” Tim asked.
“The winners get the girls,” Thomas said.
“And the losers have to buy the drinks,” James added.
“That suits me,” Matthew said.
Tim turned and looked at his companions. Pat shrugged and looked over at Lou.
“Suits me too,” Lou said. “This fella’s nothin’.”
“Let’s get a table ready!” James shouted.
Some of the other patrons, now that they knew there was to be no gunplay, got involved. They brought over a table and two chairs, and Thomas pulled both of his brothers aside.
“Matthew, can you take this guy?” he asked. “He’s got that belly, and that’ll anchor him.”
“It don’t matter, Thomas,” Matthew assured his older brother. “I’ll break him down. I ain’t never been beat in arm wrestling.”
“I know,” Thomas said, “in Epitaph. But this fella’s older, and he’s heavier.”
“It don’t matter, I tell ya.”
Thomas looked at James.
“I think we should take bets,” James said. “What do you think?”
“That’s what I was thinkin’,” Thomas said, “as long as Matthew is sure.”
“I been lookin’ into his eyes,” Matthew told them. “I can beat ’im.”
“James?” Thomas said.
“I’m on it.”
Suddenly, it turned into a betting match, and James was moving all around the room taking action. Tim, on the other side, seeing that, started doing the same thing.
The two participants, Matthew and Lou Scales, stood facing each other on either side of the table. Neither would sit until the match was about to start.
“Wait a minute!” Tim called out.
“What is it?” Thomas asked.
“We need a referee.”
“Somebody impartial,” James said.
The brothers knew they were at a disadvantage since they didn’t know anybody in the saloon, and the ranch hands were local.
“It don’t matter,” Matthew s
aid to Thomas and James. “We ain’t gonna need a referee to decide the winner.”
“No,” Lou Scales said, “we ain’t, because I’m gonna tear this pup’s arm off.”
“Then the bartender will do,” Thomas said. “Any objections?”
Nobody objected. Probably the most impartial person in any saloon was the bartender anyway.
“Okay, then,” James said, “we might as well get started.”
21
Alone in his room, Dan Shaye realized that being alone was not a good thing for him. All he did was think about his dead wife. That fueled his anger and his bitterness, and without an outlet, they could combine to eat him alive from the inside out. He decided to go see what the boys were up to. He was fairly certain Thomas could keep them out of trouble, but there was no harm in checking.
The two men seated at the table were the center of attention. All the others—all men except for the two saloon girls—crowded around them. Some climbed on top of tables to see, others stood on the bar. Most of the people in the place had a monetary interest in the outcome.
Thomas watched the action with satisfaction. A potentially dangerous situation had become a sporting event, and that was much preferred.
He hoped his father would feel the same way, because at that moment he saw Dan Shaye walk into the saloon.
From the street, Shaye had noticed all the commotion coming out of the small saloon, and he walked over hoping he would not find his sons in there. As soon as he entered, though, he knew he was out of luck. He could feel their presence.
He pushed his way through the crowd until he saw Matthew sitting at a table across from a man who was as big as a bull. Then he saw Thomas, on the other side of the table, looking at him. He hadn’t seen James yet, so he circled his way to his oldest son.
“Hello, Pa,” Thomas said.
“Thomas,” Shaye said. “Do we have any money on this little contest?”
“Uh, some.”
“Where’s James?”
“He’s right over there.” Shaye looked where Thomas was pointing and saw his youngest son standing among a bunch of bar patrons.
“And why are we here?”
“It was either this or a bar fight,” Thomas said, “or worse.”
“And what started it?”
“Uh, that big guy and five of his friends.”
“Over what?”
“Well…”
“Girls?”
“Yup.”
“Those two standing on the bar?”
Thomas turned and saw that a couple of men had helped Dora and Henri up onto the bar so they could see better.
“I’m afraid so,” Thomas said. “They came up to us, Pa. I swear, the place was empty when we got here, but—”
“Save it, Thomas,” Shaye said. “Looks like they’re about to start. That big guy looks like he’s going to be tough. Big belly on him. It’ll anchor him.”
“That’s what I thought, Pa,” Thomas said, “but Matthew said he could take him.”
“I guess we’re about to find out if he’s right.”
22
Dan Shaye watched as his son Matthew dug his feet into the floor. He thought he could actually see the muscles of his tree-stump-like legs tensing. Matthew was going to try to use the strength of his legs to counteract the bigger man’s heavy center. If he was able to do that, it would come down to the man with the most arm strength.
The bartender got the two men to clasp hands, held them steady with his own hands, then released them and said, “Go.”
Immediately, the place erupted in shouting, yelling, and whistling as the men—and the two ladies—rooted for the man they had their money on.
“If your brother wins,” Shaye said into Thomas’s ear, “are his partners going to go along with it?”
“They should,” Thomas said. “It’s only gonna cost them the two girls, and drinks.”
Shaye turned and looked at the two cute saloon girls on the bar. They were jumping up and down, waving their arms, their breasts bouncing so much they were threatening to take some of the attention away from the contest in the center of the floor.
“Go!” the bartender said, but neither man moved.
Well, in fact it only looked as if neither man moved. Actuality, they were pushing against each other, and neither was making any headway.
“This could be a battle of attrition,” Shaye said in Thomas’s ear.
“What?”
“One of them will have to wear the other one down.”
“Oh,” Thomas said, nodding.
One of Mary’s concerns about moving to South Texas had been that the boys would not receive a proper education. She had attended college in the East. Shaye had gone as far as the eleventh grade in St. Louis until he went out on his own. Both were considered better educated than the average westerner. The boys had ended up in a one-room schoolhouse in Epitaph, and had also received some tutoring at home from their mother.
Watching Matthew, he admired how, in profile, his middle son seemed to resemble a Greek god. While he did not consider Matthew simpleminded, the boy did have a rather simple outlook on life. He concentrated on one thing at a time, whether it was eating a piece of pie or arm wrestling. At that moment his face was a mask of concentration, and Shaye suddenly knew that Matthew was going to win. The other man’s eyes were already moving around, unable to hold Matthew’s, and his legs were beginning to tremble. For a big man, he did not have very thick legs, and his belly was not giving him the advantage it might have.
Now Matthew was bringing the man’s arm down toward the table, slowly but surely. The crowd got into it, screaming and shouting louder, while Shaye, Thomas, and James watched silently. The look on Lou Scales’s face was panicky as he too realized he was on the verge of losing.
Abruptly, Scales changed his tactic. He stood up and pulled Matthew across the table toward him. He intended to smash Matthew in the face with his fist, but Matthew was too fast for him. He blocked the blow and sent the bigger man staggering back.
“The youngster wins!” the bartender shouted, but a backhanded blow from Lou Scales sent him staggering back against the bar.
Embarrassed, Lou Scales was furious, and he tossed away the table that was between himself and Matthew.
“Pa?” Thomas asked.
“Let it go, Thomas,” Shaye said. “Matthew has to finish this now. Where are the other man’s friends?”
“Grouped over there,” Thomas said, pointing.
“All right,” Shaye said, locating them. “Any one of them goes for his gun, you kill him. You understand?”
“Yes, Pa.”
“Don’t hesitate, Thomas,” Shaye said, “or your brother will pay the price.”
“Yes, sir.”
The once explosive, once defused, situation had become explosive again.
23
Shaye watched as Matthew squared off against the larger, older man. He stood his ground and wasn’t about to back down. Whatever the original reason had been for the dispute—girls, drinks—it now appeared to be the older man’s embarrassment at having been bested in arm wrestling. Whether this was a good enough reason for his companions to go for their guns remained to be seen.
Shaye looked over at his youngest son, and James seemed to be in his element. He was now taking bets on who would win the fight, while Shaye would have preferred that he watch his brother’s back. He knew he would have to talk to James about his priorities when this was all over.
The two big men in the center of the room came together then. They grappled, and just when it looked as if they were going to wrestle, the older man unleashed a punishing right that hit Matthew in the belly. Matthew’s entire body seemed to shudder—and so did Shaye’s, as if he could feel his son’s pain—but the younger man did not back up. Instead he set his legs and launched a punch of his own, which landed on Lou Scales’s jaw. Scales had apparently expected Matthew to go down from the body blow, and as a result had left himself
open for a counterpunch. His head rocked back, and before he could recover, Matthew moved in and threw a body punch of his own. Scales’s girth, which might have benefited him during the arm wrestling match if he’d used it correctly, was now of no use to him at all. His soft belly absorbed Matthew’s punch, and as all the air was crushed from his lungs, his eyes went wide and his face grew red. Matthew did not wait to see the response from his blow. He stepped back, measured the man, and hit him with a thunderous uppercut that rocked Scales’s head back, straightened him up, then sent him toppling backward until he slammed into the floor on his back. His leg twitched for a moment, and then he lay completely still.
Shocked to see Scales beaten by three punches, his friends were unsure what to do. They looked to Tim Daly and Pat Booth, who were their leaders, but they were as unsure as the rest. Watching them, Shaye knew they were going to make the wrong decision.
As their hands drifted to their guns he stepped forward and said, “Don’t even think about it!”
Suddenly, he was the center of attention. James turned away from the men he’d been collecting money from and looked at his father. Thomas stepped forward to stand with his father and Matthew. A moment later James joined them.
The ranch hands saw that their six to three advantage had now turned into five against four. They did not like the odds at all.
“It’s all over, boys,” Shaye said. “Pick up your friend and take him home. There’s no point in anyone getting seriously hurt over this.”
“Uh, Pa…” James said.
Shaye looked at his younger son, then said to the ranch hands, “Pay off your debts and then take your friend home.”
The five men were still unsure what to do, but another man had now entered the room, wearing a local badge rather than the Texas ones the Shayes were wearing.
“What’s goin’ on?” he demanded.
Dozens of men started talking at the same time, but Sheriff Stover spotted Shaye and his sons and walked over to them.
“Just a little misunderstanding, Sheriff, between my sons and some of your local hands,” Shaye said. “It turned into an arm wrestling match, and then a fight.”
Stover looked down at the fallen man and raised his eyebrows. Then he looked up at Matthew. “Your son put Lou Scales down?”
Leaving Epitaph Page 6
