Blue-Eyed Devil (12 page)

47

F
AT WILLIS MCDONOUGH, who had no bar to tend at the moment, walked down to Virgil’s house from the remains of the Boston House.

“Your friend Pony Flores is in some trouble up on Main Street,” Willis said.

“Girl with him?” Virgil said.

“Yep.”

Virgil stood.

“You fellas go ahead,” Fat Willis said. “Never much liked hurrying.”

“Not generally much need,” Virgil said.

We started up First Street. And when we reached Main, we turned left.

Pony was there, still mounted, with Laurel sitting behind him, her arms around his waist. Standing in front of them in a semicircle in the street were Callico and his four surviving cops.

“Managed to get two of them killed at the ford the other day,” Virgil said.

Standing on the street beside Pony, near his left stirrup, with his two ivory-handled Colts gleaming in the sunlight, was Chauncey Teagarden.

“Fellas want to arrest the hero of the great Apache war,” Teagarden said to us. “Don’t seem right to me.”

We paused so that Callico had Teagarden and Pony in front of him, and me and Virgil behind him. His uniformed officers may have lost some of their confidence in him at the river crossing. They looked at us a little uneasily.

“You are interfering with an officer in performance of his legal duties,” Callico said sternly.

Teagarden smiled.

“You bet your ass,” he said.

“We are five armed men,” Callico said.

“And we’re only four,” Teagarden said. “What a shame.”

Virgil said, “What you arresting him for, Amos?”

“I want to know what part he played in all of this,” Callico said. “I mean, his brother was the one burned the town. Why’d this man take that girl? How much did he help his brother with the burning and looting?”

I smiled to myself. They’d been too busy with the burning to do much looting. That would probably have come next day, along with raping, if Pony hadn’t cut the whole thing short.

“He helped save your town,” Virgil said.

“Got to find that out officially, Virg,” Callico said. “Got to take him in.”

“No,” Virgil said.

“Virg,” Callico said. “You gotta understand. We’ll turn him loose, soon’s we clear him.”

Virgil said nothing.

I said, “Callico, we all know that this is about looking like the man in charge at the battle of Appaloosa.”

“You’re planning to interfere?” Callico said.

“We are,” I said.

“All three of you?”

“Four,” Pony said.

Callico nodded forcefully.

“We’ll discuss this again,” he said.

“No,” Virgil said. “We won’t.”

The sound of hammers and saws filled the street. A big freight wagon hulked past, stacked with partially burned lumber, the massive draft horses leaning hard into their harness. Callico turned sharply, jerked his head at his policemen, and walked back down Main Street. We watched them go. Pony looked at Virgil and smiled.

“ ‘Virg’?” he said.

“My mother didn’t even call me that,” Virgil said.

“What did she call you?” I said.

“Don’t remember,” Virgil said.

48

W
E WENT back down First Street toward Virgil’s house. When we got there, Allie was on the front porch. Laurel slid off the back of Pony’s horse and ran to her. Pony stayed on the horse.

“My child is home safe,” Allie crooned. “My child is home.”

“Don’t think she’s staying, Allie,” Virgil said.

He was standing on the first step of the porch, next to Laurel.

“What,” Allie said. “What.”

Virgil said, “You stayin’, Laurel?”

She shook her head.

“You going away?” Virgil said.

She nodded.

“With who?” Virgil said.

Laurel pointed at Pony.

“You can say his name,” Virgil said.

Laurel stared at Virgil.

“You can,” Virgil said.

She stared some more. Virgil leaned forward and whispered in her ear. She nodded. He whispered again. She shook her head. He whispered again. She was motionless. Then she looked at Pony. And at me and Allie, and obliquely at Chauncey Teagarden. She looked back at Virgil and then at Pony again.

“Pony,” she whispered.

I saw Allie’s eyes widen. Her mouth opened. But something stopped her before she spoke.

“You want that, Pony?” Virgil said.

Pony was turned sideways in his saddle. His right foot was in the stirrup, and his left knee hooked over the saddle. He was rolling a cigarette.

“Sí,”
Pony said, and lit the cigarette.

“Got some money left from Brimstone,” Virgil said. “I’ll get you some.”

Pony shook his head.

“Good way to start, Jefe,” he said. “Each other, nothing else.”

Virgil nodded.

“Buy her a horse,” he said.

Pony smiled.

“I get her horse, Jefe.”

Virgil nodded slowly.

“Kinda what I was afraid of,” he said.

Pony looked at me and put out his hand.

“Everett,” he said.

“Pony.”

He looked at Teagarden.

“Gracias,”
he said.

Teagarden shook his hand.

“On down the road,” he said.

Pony nodded. He looked at Allie.

“Señorita,”
he said.

She was holding her apron up to her face.

Virgil stood in front of Laurel with his hands at his sides.

“Wherever you go. Whatever happens. You got some people here who love you.”

She nodded. Then put her arms around Virgil and buried her face in his neck and cried. He put his arms around her and stood expressionless, holding her comfortably until she was through.

She stepped away from him and looked at Pony.

“Chiquita,” he said, and put out his hand.

She swung up behind him. He turned the horse and kicked him into a trot and they left. All of us watched as they rode off. Allie sniffled loudly.

“Nice ceremony,” Teagarden said.

49

E
MMA SCARLET wore a red wig for business, but since we were more friends than anything else, and since this morning we had finished our business already, she left the wig on its holder while we drank coffee in her room.

“So, the girl ran off with the half-breed,” Emma said.

“Laurel,” I said. “With Pony Flores.”

“Love,” Emma said.

“I guess.”

We drank some coffee.

“I think Allie was a little upset,” I said.

“You do,” Emma said.

“Think she was planning on some fine eastern gentleman,” I said.

“For crissake, Everett, Laurel didn’t even talk.”

“’Cept to Virgil,” I said. “And ’fore she left she said Pony’s name out loud.”

“Golly,” Emma said.

“She might have been losing her baby, but she’d only had a baby for a couple years.”

“And maybe she didn’t mind,” Emma said.

“No?” I said.

“Maybe she didn’t like the competition,” Emma said.

“Competition with who?” I said.

“Laurel,” Emma said.

“For?”

“Virgil,” Emma said.

“Virgil wouldn’t lay a hand on Laurel,” I said.

“Don’t matter what Virgil would do,” Emma said. “It’s what Allie fears that matters.”

“You think Allie was afraid Virgil would run off with Laurel?” I said.

“’Course she was,” Emma said.

“I don’t see that,” I said. “I known them since they been together. Virgil never run off on her.”

“She ever run out on him?” Emma said.

“She did,” I said.

Emma was still naked from our time of business, and as she talked she leaned back and looked at her extended leg.

“Where’d she end up?”

“Pig wallow in Placido,” I said. “On the Rio Grande.”

“How’d she get out of there?”

“Me and Virgil found her, took her out,” I said.

“And if you hadn’t?”

“She’d a died,” I said.

“So, he owes her leavin’,” Emma said.

“More than one,” I said.

“And if it weren’t for him she’d be fucking her life away in some dump down by Mexico.”

“So, she’d be worried about anybody,” I said.

“Especially a young girl starting to come of age that speaks only to Virgil?”

I nodded and drank some coffee.

“Hadn’t thought of it that way,” I said.

“’Course you hadn’t,” Emma said. “She’s a woman.” She waved her naked leg around. “You only think of her this way.”

“You don’t seem to mind,” I said.

She shrugged and pointed her toes.

“Not with you,” she said.

50

S
OMEONE HAD SET UP a steam saw at the corner of Main and Second Street, and you could hear it eighteen hours a day, every day, all over town. It was like the base melody for an orchestra of hand tools: hammers, chisels, mallets, and handsaws hovering in lighter cadence. The raucous language of the laborers formed a vocalization.

Several saloons had set up tents with plank-and-barrel bars, and enough people got drunk to keep me and Virgil in business from our headquarters on what was left of the Boston House’s front porch.

Virgil was looking at it all.

“We had this many government folks before,” Virgil said, “Kah-to-nay wouldn’t have attacked.”

“And Callico has kissed the ass of every one of them since,” I said.

“The hero of the recovery,” Virgil said.

“Lot people will remember him for it, and be grateful,” I said. “He knows a lot of people. He’s brought in lot of money for rebuilding.”

“The savior of Appaloosa,” Virgil said.

“Been better if he never lost it in the first place,” I said.

“Would,” Virgil said.

A big lumber wagon pulled by eight oxen drudged up Main Street past us toward the steam saw with a load of logs.

“When they get that cut up,” I said, “think they’ll cure it proper?”

“Nope.”

I smiled.

“Be good not to buy a new building in town for a few years,” I said. “Let it dry out.”

A handsome two-bench buggy went by in the other direction, pulled by two gray horses. A driver sat on the front seat, and in back was General Laird, with Chauncey Teagarden beside him. Chauncey was wearing a black jacket with conchos, and his ivory handle gleamed in contrast.

“Chauncey’s looking good,” I said.

“He is good,” Virgil said.

“He still here for you, you think?”

“Be my guess,” Virgil said.

“Because of the son,” I said.

“Yep.”

“What are they waiting for?” I said.

“Chauncey likes to play the fish for a rime, ’fore he catches him,” Virgil said. “And during the recent Indian thing we was kinda useful.”

“I got another theory,” I said.

“Figured you would,” Virgil said. “Bein’ as how you went to West Point and all.”

“Things are in a state of some flux,” I said.

“ ‘Flux’?” Virgil said.

“Like flow,” I said. “Things are moving and changing.”

“Does a river flux?”

“No, it flows,” I said.

“Don’t it mean the same thing?” Virgil said.

“Pretty much,” I said. “Except people just say it the way they say it.”

“So, things are fluxing,” Virgil said.

I nodded.

“So, Laird may be thinking it’s a good idea to have a first-rate gun hand available until things shake out.”

“That would be Chauncey,” Virgil said.

“And if Chauncey kills you,” I said, “he probably would need to go away.”

“Not, I’m betting, because of Amos Callico,” Virgil said.

“Maybe, maybe not. Depends how things are when he has to decide. But Stringer might come down from the sheriff’s office. Hell, I might even get sort of bothersome ’bout it.”

“It would make sense for Chauncey to flux on out of Appaloosa after he killed me,” Virgil said.

“Which,” I said, “would leave Laird without the gun hand that he might need if, say, he finds it too hard to get along with Callico.”

“Nicky probably done that work for him before,” Virgil said.

“Or wanted to,” I said.

Virgil shook his head sadly.

“Wasn’t good enough,” he said.

“But Chauncey is,” I said.

“Maybe,” Virgil said.

“And if you kill him . . .” I said.

“Laird’s gotta find somebody else.”

“Ain’t too many in Chauncey’s class,” I said.

“Nope.”

“So, we wait and watch,” I said.

“Yep.”

“Least he won’t back-shoot you,” I said. “He’ll come at you straight on.”

Virgil nodded.

“Be too bad if I have to kill him,” Virgil said. “He’s been pretty useful so far.”

“So have you,” I said.

“I have,” Virgil said. “Haven’t I?”

51

T
HE FRONT of the Golden Palace where it faced the street was still open. And carpenters were bringing in lumber and millwork. But the back of the room was enclosed and there were a few odd tables set up near a bar made from a couple of tailgates.

Buford Posner brought a bottle of whiskey and four glasses to the table where Virgil and I were sitting with Lamar Speck. He poured some whiskey for each of us. Speck raised his glass.

“Almost back,” he said, and drank. We joined him.

“Get that front closed in,” Speck said. “And you can get started on the finish.”

“Got a new bar,” Posner said, “coming in from Denver. Amos got them to ship it to me on credit through the Reclamation Commission.”

“And got a little finder’s fee,” Speck said.

“Sure,” Posner said. “Amos always gets a little finder’s fee.”

“Didn’t know we had a Reclamation Commission,” I said.

“What Amos calls it,” Posner said. “Calls himself commissioner, too.”

“He would,” I said.

“Not a bad idea, though,” Speck said. “Town was originally thrown up building at a time with no oversight. So Amos got together with some of the better-off business interests in town, and he says we got a second chance, let’s do it right. And he brings the general aboard, first off, and when people see that, they’re interested. Me ’n Buford came aboard.”

Virgil seemed interested in the framing work going on in the front of the saloon. But I knew he heard what was being said. Virgil, as far as I know, always heard everything that mattered. And saw everything, and knew what to do.

“How’s it work?” I said.

“We all chip in some money, to make a little credit pool, and use it to support loans for people rebuilding. In return they give the commission a say in what they’re doing,” Speck said.

“Nice position of power,” I said.

“Amos put in money,” Virgil said.

He was still watching the framers. It was the kind of thing Virgil liked to watch. Men with a skill practicing it well.

“Mostly the general put up the money at first,” Posner said. “Him and Amos is pretty tight. Amos is the commissioner, does most of the legwork.”

“You boys get to say much?” I said.

“We have regular meetings,” Speck said.

“Truth of the matter,” Posner said, “we’re in ’cause we can’t afford to be out.”

I nodded.

“But do you have any say?”

“Not much,” Speck said. “Callico and the general are very tight. They pretty much decide everything.”

“And it’s not just the money,” Posner said. “Callico is the law here, and he always has some policemen with him.”

“And the general?” Virgil said.

“Teagarden is always beside him,” Posner said.

“Any threats?” Virgil said.

“Not direct, but they can back up what they think should happen,” Posner said.

“And you boys can’t,” Virgil said.

“No.”

“And you want us to help you.”

They said yes at the same time.

Virgil looked at me.

“You want to have the first say, Everett?” he said.

I nodded.

“I don’t like it,” I said.

Virgil nodded slowly.

“No,” he said. “I don’t, either.”

“We can pay you well,” Speck said.

Virgil shook his head.

“Ain’t that,” he said.

“Are you afraid?” Posner said.

Virgil smiled.

“Long as Everett and me been doing this?” he said. “Nope, we ain’t scared.”

“You want to end up on the right side of things,” Speck said. “When this is all over with and Callico’s got the town.”

“Everett,” Virgil said to me. “Would you explain to these two gentlemen why we ain’t gonna do this?”

“What we do,” I said to Speck and Posner, “is we kill men. We been doing it for a while and we are better at it than anyone we’ve come up against so far. Being good at killing men is different than being good at bulldogging a steer or shooting holes in silver dollars. It’s serious, and it needs to be done right.”

Speck and Posner stared at me and said nothing.

“You’re a lawman and right is pretty easy. You do what the law requires. And you’re pretty much sure you’re on the right side of things. Until now and then you find that you’re not. And you have to kill someone on your own terms.”

Virgil nodded. He had always worried about stuff like this more than I did.

“This would be like that,” I said. “And we don’t want to kill a man on your terms.”

“Well,” Speck said. “Pretty goddamned fancy for a couple of fucking gunmen.”

“Fancy,” Virgil said.