Leaving Epitaph (7 page)

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 said 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.”

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.”

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.

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?”

“With three punches!” James said proudly. “He beat him in arm wrestling, and then in the fight.”

Stover noticed the handful of money James was holding. “And there was betting goin’ on?”

“Just some friendly wagers, Sheriff,” Shaye said. “That’s not against the law, is it?”

Stover didn’t answer. Instead he looked over at Daly, Booth, and the others. “You boys better pay off your bets and get Lou out of here,” he said. “The rest of you go back to whatever you were doin’.”

Dora and Henri came running over to press themselves against James and Matthew.

“I might have figured you two were involved in this,” Stover said. “Always teasing those ranch hands.”

“It was Daly and them who started it, Sheriff,” the bartender said. “These three was just havin’ a drink and talkin’ to the girls.”

“Okay, thanks, Harve,” Stover said. “You might as well get back behind the bar.”

There was a lot of movement, shuffling of feet, shifting of tables and chairs, until the room looked almost back to normal.

“You boys figure on stickin’ around the saloon awhile?” Stover asked the three Shaye boys.

“They were just going to turn in for the night, Sheriff,” Shaye said. “Weren’t you, boys?”

“That’s right, Pa,” Thomas said.

“Yeah,” Dora said, “with us!”

“No, ladies,” Shaye said, “I’m sorry to say, not with you. Over to the hotel, you three.”

James disengaged himself from Dora, picked up Matthew’s hat, which had fallen to the floor, and handed it to his brother. Matthew stepped away from Henri and put his hat on. Shaye noticed he was moving kind of gingerly.

“You all right, Matthew?”

“A little sore in the ribs, Pa,” Matthew said. “He hit pretty hard.”

“We’ll take a look at it back at the hotel,” Shaye said, “decide if you need a doctor or not.”

“I’ll be fine, Pa.”

James moved around the room, collecting the remainder of the money that was wagered against Matthew, then turned to look at his father with a smile that died quickly.

“Uh, Pa—”

“I’ll take that, James,” Shaye said. “We can use it to buy some supplies.”

“Oh, uh, sure, Pa,” James said, handing the money over. “That was what we was figurin’, anyway.”

“I’m sure you were,” Shaye said. “Come on, boys. Let’s git.”

Matthew turned and waved good-bye to Henri, and then he and James went out the door, followed by Thomas.

“Won’t be anymore trouble, Sheriff,” Shaye said. “We’ll be gone come morning.”

Stover nodded, but didn’t say a word as Shaye made his way to the door, to follow his sons to the hotel.