Robert B. Parker's Blackjack (13 page)

S
he doesn’t look like any bookkeeper I ever saw,” I said as I walked down the steps and caught up with Virgil.

“You questioning her skills?” Virgil said.

“No, she just doesn’t seem like the adding and subtracting type.”

“You saying a fella might think of something else?” Virgil said.

“No might to it,” I said.

Virgil and I rounded the corner just as Chastain came riding up and reined to a stop when he saw us.

“By God,” Chastain said.

“Black?” Virgil said.

“Yep,” Chastain said. “Been looking for you for an hour.”

“Locked up?” Virgil said.

“He is.”

“I’ll be damn,” Virgil said.

“What kind of shape is he in?” I said.

“Looks pretty exhausted. I think he’s thinner, and he’s got a few cuts and bruises, but he’s here, and he’s locked up.”

“Anything said?”

“Nope, not to me,” Chastain said. “Book gave him some food. He was hungry. Don’t think the bounty hunter cared too well for him while he was getting him over here. He was locked in a prison wagon.”

“Where is the bounty hunter?”

“Think he went for some grub and such. I didn’t see him at all. I was at the house when they got to the office. Book came and got me after he got him locked up.”

Virgil and I went to the office to see for ourselves that Boston Bill Black was in fact behind bars. When we got there Book opened the door to the cells, but Boston Bill was dead asleep, lying facedown on the bunk. Truitt was in the cell next to him. He looked up when we entered. We stood there for a moment, but Black didn’t stir, and we didn’t wake him. Fact was we really had nothing to say to him other than welcome back to Appaloosa.

Truitt stood looking at us dejectedly, but we walked out before he could let us know how bad it was being locked up. Book closed and locked the metal door and put the key in the desk drawer and locked the desk drawer.

“Bounty hunter say where or how he found Black?” I said.

“No,” Book said. “I posed to him that very question, but he didn’t say much, really, other than he was hungry and thirsty.”

“Where is he?” Virgil said.

“Think at the Boston House,” Book said. “He did say he was wanting to see you. Said he was an old friend of yours. Said he was looking forward to seeing you.”

“What’s his name?”

“He didn’t say. Not from around here, though, never seen him before, that’s for sure. He was nice, friendly like, but was . . . I don’t know, unusual, I guess you could say. He just asked me where he could get a steak, some good wine, maybe play some tall dollar cards. I told him at the Boston House he could do all three and that it’d be
busy with some good gambling because tonight was faro night and such. He thought that was funny.”

“What?” I said.

“Said Appaloosa was lousy with Bostons. Boston this and Boston that, a place called the Boston House and a missing man that was now caught named Boston Bill. He laughed as he walked out the door.”

Virgil stubbed out what was left of his cigar in the ashtray and looked at Book for a long moment.

“What’d he look like?” Virgil said.

“A real colorful character, that’s for sure. Big, strong-looking, older, along in his fifties, I’d say, short-cropped hair on the sides, thick, full beard. Wore a brim with a flipped-back front.”

Book pinched his earlobe.

“He had one of those silver loops in one of his ears.”

Virgil squinted his eyes a little, looking at Book.

“Flashy dresser?” Virgil said.

Book nodded.

“As a matter of fact, he was,” Book said. “Long frock coat, striped trousers tucked inside tall fancy boots and Mex silver spurs with huge rowels.”

Virgil shook his head.

“Cutlass on his hip?” Virgil said.

Book looked to me, then Virgil, then nodded.

“Damn sure did,” Book said. “That’s him.”

Virgil looked at me.

“Guess you know who that is,” I said.

He nodded.

“By all accounts I do.”

Virgil walked to the door and looked out to the street as if the man in question might be in sight. He stood quiet for a moment,
looking off. He nodded to himself, then shook his head a little as if he did not believe what he believed.

“Been a long damn time,” Virgil said. “But that sounds like Valentine Pell.”

“I think I heard about him,” Book said.

Chastain nodded.

“Pell,” he said. “Was he a marshal at one point in time, too?”

Virgil looked at Chastain and nodded a little.

“Among other things,” Virgil said.

T
he streets were crowded with people moving about and enjoying the pleasant evening air as Virgil and I made our way up the block and a half to the Boston House. Virgil did not say anything as we walked, but I could tell there was something on his mind, there was something about Valentine Pell that bothered him.

“He really a friend of yours?”

Virgil walked a bit before he answered.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he said.

“If it is him, if it is Valentine Pell,” I said, “you think he’s gonna be a problem of some sorts?”

“If it is him,” Virgil said, “he already is a problem.”

“Boston Bill Black has caused quite the stir.”

“Has.”

We got to the porch of the Boston House and started up the steps.

“Valentine a gun hand?” I said.

“He is.”

“Can he shoot?”

“He’s deadly,” Virgil said as he opened the door to the hotel.

There were three significant hotels now in Appaloosa, the Windsor being the quietest, the Colcord the plushest, and the Boston House the liveliest. It was the oldest hotel, too, and though it had changed hands a few times it still remained the most popular. The back room off the bar was still the only place in town where high-stakes gamblers of Appaloosa plied their trade, and with the growing city industry, the place was always full.

It was also the very reason Hollis Pritchard and Company had decided to build a gambling hall in Appaloosa. Pritchard was not shortsighted when it came to making money, and with the number of businesses cropping up in Appaloosa and the people needed to operate them, he knew a good bet when it presented itself and how to profit from investment.

The back room of the Boston House still consisted of ten poker tables, a billiard table, and a three-sided table used for throwing dice, and when Virgil and I walked in every table was in use and the cigar smoke was so thick the far wall was just slightly visible.

We stood looking around the room until Virgil spotted at the far corner table the big fella with the beard and wide hat with the flipped-back brim that Book described.

“That him?” I said.

Virgil nodded.

“By God,” he said.

Virgil started walking toward the table and I followed. When we got close, Valentine looked up, seeing Virgil. He leaned back in his chair and smiled wide. His flashy blue eyes had that flair of being friendly and menacing at the same time.

“Well, Lord have mercy, as I live and breathe, if it’s not Virgil,” he said. “Virgil, Virgil, Virgil.”

“It is,” Virgil said.

Valentine was a handsome man, and like Book had said, he was
strong-looking, especially for his age. He was rugged but well groomed, and his beard revealed only a small hint of gray.

“Yes, it is,” Valentine said. “Yes, it goddamn sure is. Look at you, you have not changed a bit, not aged a day since I last saw you. I’ll be goddamn. Been what, twenty years?”

“You looking for me, Valentine?”

“Inadvertently,” he said. “Inadvertently.”

Valentine looked to the six men sitting around the table. A few of them Virgil and I were acquaintances of, but the rest were strangers.

“Gentlemen,” Valentine said. “I’m going to have to remove myself from this game of chance, and I know because of my good fortune, none of you will mind my self styled elimination thereof.”

Valentine held up his cards.

“Would you mind, Virgil,” he said. “Soon as I pocket this last go-around, I’ll be right with you.”

Virgil nodded.

“We’ll be at the bar.”

Virgil and I walked back into the main barroom. We sat at the far end of the bar and ordered two beers from Wallis.

“Coming right up,” Wallis said.

“Well?” I said.

Virgil shook his head a little.

“Something tells me Valentine’s jovial demeanor is just a show,” I said.

“Something’s telling you right,” Virgil said.

“What’s his story?”

Virgil leaned with his elbows resting on the bar and looked to the back room where Valentine sat at the poker table.

“Crooked as a dog’s hind leg,” Virgil said.

I followed Virgil’s look into the back room.

“What do you know about him?”

Virgil shook his head.

“A thief, turned snake-oil salesman, turned liquor peddler to Indians, turned Navy deserter, turned preacher, turned lawman, turned safe cracking outlaw, turned goddamn bounty hunter. He’s . . . He’s a liar, a thief, a coward . . . but he can be a brave sonofabitch, too.”

“And by his looks . . . a pirate,” I said.

“He is at that.”

I looked back to Virgil, who was no longer looking at Valentine but staring at the mug of beer resting on the bar in front of him.

“I never heard you mention him before, but it sounds like you know him pretty well,” I said.

“I do,” Virgil said.

“How so?”

“He’s my brother,” Virgil said.

V
irgil sat up straight with his shoulders back. He took a big pull of his beer, then rested the mug on the bar in front of him. I leaned forward a little to catch his eye.

“What?” I said.

Virgil nodded.

“Bullshit,” I said.

Virgil shifted his eyes to me and shook his head.

“No bullshit.”

“Goddamn, Virgil.”

“What?”

“What?”

Virgil sipped his beer but didn’t look at me.

“Well . . . hell, Virgil, I never knew you had a brother, you never said a damn thing.”

I looked back to Valentine, who was conversing with his poker partners.

“All these years I’ve ridden with you and you never mentioned you even had a brother.”

“No,” he said. “I did not.”

“Can I ask why?”

“No reason.”

“No reason?”

“Long time ago, Everett,” Virgil said. “Past. Past is past.”

“Well, hell.”

“Some things are best forgotten.”

“Until now,” I said.

“That’s right,” Virgil said.

I shook my head and looked at Virgil for a long bit.

“Pell?” I said. “He a half-brother?”

Virgil glanced back to Valentine at the poker table and nodded slightly.

“He is.”

“I’ll be damn.”

I looked back at Pell, then looked back to Virgil.

“You want to tell me about it?”

“Not really.”

“But you will.”

Virgil sat quiet for a moment.

“Blood brothers?” I said.

Virgil nodded, then looked over at him again for a moment.

“Complicated,” Virgil said.

“How so?”

“His pa ran off, left my mom, she remarried, had me.”

“So you grew up together?”

Virgil nodded.

“For a while. He was five years older. He was gone by sixteen.”

“I’ll be damn . . .” I said. “Valentine Pell.”

Virgil nodded.

“Rhymes with hell,” Virgil said.

“Same name as his old man . . .” Virgil said. “Valentine Pell. He was a lawman turned outlaw . . .”

“You knew his father?”

Virgil looked over to Valentine again. He stared at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly.

“Not sure anyone knew that old sonofabitch . . . after my dad died . . . I was ten, Val was fifteen; his old man, Valentine Senior, comes back around . . . Not real fond memories, Everett . . . That was when Val took off and left Mom and me there to fend for ourselves . . . After some time . . . he took off again . . . Not long after that the man got himself shot and killed.”

Virgil shook his head a little, as if he still did not believe who it was, that a person from his past, a member of his family, would actually be in his presence. I, too, was having a hard time with the notion.

Nothing about Virgil had ever made me think much about his family or that he even had a family. I’m not sure why. I guess I’ve always felt some business is better left unsaid. I know there is not much about any of what I did before today that really amounts to much in terms of memory.

I never thought about Virgil being anything but Virgil or anything but just perfectly present in the here and now. Maybe that is why the idea of his family, or the idea of him even having a family, seemed improbable and was a subject that we never engaged in.

Maybe he discussed his history with Allie, but I seriously doubt it. For certain Virgil never discussed family matters, so I figured it was not open for discussion, but now family was here and it was in the form of a colorful and enigmatic brother with the unusual name of Valentine Pell.

“They were the same person, those two,” Virgil said. “His old man and him, cut from the same cloth.”

Valentine finished his hand of cards and came into the front bar
and joined Virgil and me. He was big and he walked as if he were even bigger.

“Goddamn, it is good to see you, Virgil,” Valentine said.

“Kind of figured it’d be you,” Virgil said.

Valentine smiled a big grin and patted Virgil on the back. Then he leaned forward on the bar, reached across Virgil, and held out his hand for me to shake.

“You must be Everett Hitch,” he said.

I nodded and shook his hand.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said. “I have heard all about you and the big gun you carry.”

“Eight-gauge,” I said.

Then he looked at Virgil and grinned again.

“Still not shaking hands, Virgil?”

Virgil didn’t say anything.

“Picked that up from his old man,” Valentine said.

Virgil looked at Valentine without a hint of an expression on his face.

“Well, shit,” Valentine said, “I just can’t get over it, as I live and breathe, Virgil. And a goddamn marshal to boot.”

Valentine clapped his hands a few times. It was unwelcome applause.

“And I hear you have a fine wife and a house with a fenced-in yard,” Valentine said. “Allison, right? Allison French, Allie?”

Virgil didn’t say anything.

“Part of my job to know these things, Virgil,” he said. “Just like you.”

“We’re not alike,” Virgil said.

Valentine laughed, then turned to Fat Wallis, who was leaning on the back of the bar with his arms folded across his big belly, observing the room.

“Excuse me, gentleman, sir,” Valentine said. “Might I have a bottle of your finest whiskey and three glasses?”

Valentine looked to Virgil.

“You will have a drink with me, won’t you, Virgil?” he said.

“On me, of course, and you, too, Everett.”

I looked to Virgil. Virgil stared at Valentine, then nodded slightly to Wallis.

Wallis set the glasses in front of each one of us and poured.

“Thank you, kind sir,” Valentine said.

Wallis nodded, then set the bottle in front of us and moved off to the other end of the bar.

Valentine raised his glass.

“To my little brother,” he said.