The Bridge (7 page)

“They are,” I said.

Virgil leaned over to me a little closer.

“Which one’s the fortune-teller lady?” Virgil said.

I shook my head.

“Don’t see her.”

Beauregard was wearing a fancy embroidered suit. He had on an expensive-looking hat, different from the one he was wearing when he rode into town. A fan of turkey feathers rose from one side. Next to Beauregard sat a beautiful young woman.

“Must be the wife Allie was talking about,” I said. “Nell.”

Virgil nodded slightly, looking at her.

Allie was right, Nell was real pretty; she was small, with delicate features, large brown eyes, and wispy blond hair that curled around her face like a delicately carved frame.

“Tender kindle,” he said.

“For ol’ Beauregard,” I said, “she damn sure is.”

“Pretty,” Virgil said.

“I’ll give you that,” I said.

After Ashley took advantage of sharing his political aspirations and views of the territory’s future to the captive audience of Appaloosa citizens, he turned his attention to the troupe gathered around him.

“Appaloosa is thrilled to have Beauchamp Brothers Theatrical Extravaganza here in the great growing city of Appaloosa. So without further ado.”

Ashley looked to Beauregard.

“That’s a word you show folks use, is it not?” Ashley said with a wiggle of his head. “Ado?”

Beauregard smiled a crooked smile under his big mustache and nodded a little.

“So without further ado,” Ashley said with a big grin, “please welcome the one and only Mr. Beauregard Beauchamp.”

Ashley stepped away and the crowd applauded as Beauregard took a few unsteady steps on his way to the lectern.

“Thank you, Appaloosa,” he said without a slur. “Thank you.”

Beauregard’s voice was huge and was taller than both Virgil and me. He was older than he appeared when we saw him riding into town on his horse. His long, dark hair and full mustache were dyed and it was apparent to both Virgil and me he was liquored up.

“Got a few posts missing,” Virgil said.

“He does,” I said.

“And thank you, Mayor, for welcoming us, we appreciate your kindness,” Beauregard said. “First, I’d like to say a big thank-you to the App . . . Appaloosa ladies’ social for helping us, as we get ready to bring Appaloosa some fun and excitement to your fantastic community, especially you, Miss French.”

“He’s seasoned,” I said.

“Yep,” Virgil said.

The crowd applauded again.

Allie was sitting in the front row, enamored with the happenings.

“With a little assistance from God above,” Beauregard said, “helping us clear out some of this intemperate, this inclement weather, the Extravaganza will be set up soon and under way.”

Beauregard looked to Ashley.

“If you, Reverend Epps, and your congregation would be so kind to help us out with some good old-fashion prayers. We . . .”

Beauregard gestured to his troupe.

“All of us,” he said, “would be most grateful.”

Ashley nodded and grinned.

“We’ll see what we can muster,” Ashley said.

Beauregard bowed a little, then turned back to the crowd.

“But we thought here tonight,” Beauregard said. “Prayers or no prayers, we tonight thought . . .”

Beauregard paused dramatically and then repeated.

“We tonight thought we’d take this opportunity to give you a little peek of what to expect.”

Beauregard looked to the musicians and nodded.

“Here’s a favorite tune of ours,” he said. “‘My Grandfather’s Cock’ . . .
CLOCK,
I
mean
clock.
‘My Grandfather’s
Clock
.’”

The crowd clapped as the band members got to their feet and started playing the upbeat song.

“I know that face,” Virgil said.

“Beauregard?”

Virgil nodded as he looked at him intently.

The musicians were a lively group and they danced a little jig as they played. Beauregard held out his hand for Nell to come up. She stepped up and after the band got a few progressions out of the way she sang along. She was animated and expressive as she sang, and in no time at all she had the whole crowd singing along with the popular tune.

Beauregard stepped off to the side. He misstepped a little but caught his balance. He stood back and watched Nell proudly. He folded his arms across his ribs and smiled.

Virgil and I watched for a moment, then Virgil said, “I’ll be damned.”

“Remember?” I said.

“I do.”

“Where?”

“I’ll be damned,” Virgil said again.

“Gun hand?” I said.

Virgil shook his head.

“Snake-oil salesman.”

“That fits,” I said.

“Does,” he said, shaking his head a little.

“Where?”

“A time ago. Way before you and me started working together, before town work, even. I was working the big gambling room at the Menger Hotel in San Antone. He come around there, selling his remedies. Thought he was the cock of the walk. A young buck then, full of himself.”

Virgil stopped talking for a moment and just watched for a bit.

“One evening,” Virgil said, “he sat at the wrong gambling table. They caught him cheating. Rough bunch, they was gonna string him up . . .”

Beauregard took Nell by the hand between the verses of ‘My Grandfather’s Clock’ and the two of them danced along with the music.

“Looks like he still thinks of himself as the cock of the walk,” I said.

Virgil nodded a little.

“Drinking his remedies, too,” I said.

“I’ll be damned,” Virgil said. “That’s sure enough him. He was flashy back then, younger, but flashy. I locked him in a closet till the ruckus settled and the gamblers cleared.”

Virgil just shook his head from side to side a little.

“When I let him out he wanted to fight me,” Virgil said. “Best I remember, I slapped him a few times and kicked him out the back door and into the trash like the spindly miscreant he was.”

“Likely still is,” I said.

“Seems,” Virgil said.

—
14
—

T
he band played some more festive tunes with Nell singing along. Then the magician, Dr. Longfellow, performed a few disappearing-handkerchief tricks followed by the jester clown jugglers, who made the crowd roar with laughter. As soon as the little show finished up, Allie hurried up behind the lectern.

“Hello, everyone,” she said. “We, the ladies’ social of Appaloosa, want to let y’all know we have provided some refreshments, cookies and cakes and some lemon punch, so everybody stay, mingle with our special guests, and enjoy.”

The crowd did just that and the flock of folks gathered around the troupe as they worked their way to the table like cattle headed to feed.

Allie looked up, seeing Virgil and me standing at the back of the room, and scurried through the throng of people over to us.

“Oh, Everett,” Allie said, as she clamped her arms around me. “Thank God you are okay.”

“It’s okay, Allie,” I said.

Allie didn’t move; she just squeezed me harder, keeping her face nestled in my chest.

I looked to Virgil.

“I’m right here, Allie,” I said.

Allie just squeezed me tighter.

“Hell, Allie,” Virgil said. “Let him breathe some.”

Allie removed her head from my chest. She cut her eyes at Virgil a bit, then looked up to me but remained clutching me tight.

“Oh, Everett,” Allie said. “Thank God in Heaven you are okay. I was so worried about you.”

“Thank Samuel Colt,” Virgil said.

“Virgil Cole,” Allie snapped, as she looked to him. “I swear, you can be so callous.”

“Nothing callous about being a good gun hand and returning fire,” Virgil said.

“Oh,” Allie said. “You’re impossible.”

Virgil smiled.

“I guess that’s good,” Virgil said.

Allie looked back up to me.

“I’m just grateful you’re here and alive,” Allie said.

I smiled at her.

“Well, Allie,” I said. “You’re entirely welcome . . . You put together a good gathering here.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m happy about the turnout.”

“Might have myself a piece of cake,” I said. “Maybe some of that lemon punch.”

“Oh, yes,” Allie said. “Come and see what we got.”

Allie pulled me away from Virgil and over to the desserts spread out across the table.

Virgil followed us through the crowd of folks over to the table, and as we neared I noticed Beauregard look over at Virgil. He was standing with Nell as he talked with Ashley, but he was focused on Virgil. I could tell he recognized Virgil. He leaned close to Ashley and it was
obvious he asked Ashley about Virgil. Ashley looked over to us, he said something to Beauregard and then escorted Beauregard and Nell our way.

“Virgil, Everett,” Ashley said. “Let me introduce you to Beauregard Beauchamp and his lovely wife, Nell.”

“Oh, yes,” Allie interjected with enthusiasm as she took over the introductions. “Virgil, Everett, this is Beauregard and Nell. Beauregard, Nell, this is Virgil and Everett. Virgil is my, my . . .”

“Marshal Cole,” Virgil said.

Allie blushed a little.

“And this is Everett,” Allie said. “Virgil’s deputy marshal.”

“I was just letting Mr. and Mrs. Beauchamp here know you are our celebrated territory law officials and what a wonderful privilege it was for the growing community of Appaloosa that the two of you resided here.”

Beauregard held out his hand to Virgil, but I shook his hand instead.

“Virgil’s not much on shaking hands,” I said. “Pleasure to meet you both.”

Nell looked at me and smiled. Beauregard remained focused on Virgil.

“We’ve had the pleasure of meeting before,” Beauregard said to Virgil. “Have we not?”

“Believe we have,” Virgil said.

Beauregard squinted a little.

“Card game,” Virgil said. “San Antone.”

Beauregard chewed a few hairs of his mustache.

“Menger’s,” Beauregard said. “The hotel?”

Virgil nodded.

“Well, isn’t that just the best,” Allie said. “Old friends.”

“Yes,” Beauregard said. “Old friends.”

Virgil smiled pleasantly but didn’t say anything.

“Long time ago,” Beauregard said.

Virgil nodded a little.

“Was,” he said.

“Well, maybe you two can just pick up where you left off?” Allie said.

“Maybe,” Virgil said.

—
15
—

A
shley cornered me before I left the town hall only to let me know he was planning on being the new territory governor and he hoped to have Virgil and my endorsement come Election Day.

Goddamn rain,
I thought, as I crossed the street and headed back to my alley room above the survey office. The streets were now mud and the ruts were beginning to get deep.
Got to let up sometime soon.

When I left the boardwalk I walked across a single plank over the soggy narrow passage to the stairs. I took the first step leading up to my room and noticed lamplight in my window. I stopped before taking another step and drew my Colt.

I took one slow step at a time. The stairs were solid. They didn’t creak as I ascended, and I made my footfalls cautious and quiet as I moved up. I stayed low, not showing myself as I passed under the window overlooking the rungs, then eased to the side of the opening and peeked in.

Sitting on the bed was Séraphine. She was looking directly at me through the window as if she knew I would be peeking in.

I was glad it wasn’t Bolger’s bad brother I’d heard about waiting on me.

I opened the door.

“Hello, Everett,” she said.

I stayed standing in the doorway.

She watched as I slowly slid my Colt back in its holster.

I smiled at her. She smiled at me.

“Hey,” I said.

Her blue eyes were catching the light just right from the lamp fire. It was nice to see her looking at me, and it felt good to look at her back.

“You didn’t show for the theatrical town hall presentation?” I said.

“I’m here,” she said.

“Yes, you are.”

She was sitting on the bed with her back propped up on the headboard, looking casually at yesterday’s newspaper. She folded the paper simply and put it to her side. She was relaxed and calm. Her long legs were extended on the bed and crossed at her ankles. She was wearing a pair of Mexican cowboy boots with riding heels that were unusually clean, considering the weather.

She was dressed different from when I saw her the night before. She was wearing a simple cream-colored muslin dress, like a long, thin sleeping gown. The flimsy fabric allowed the valleys, hills, and curves of her slender body to be revealed fully, and I appreciated the contours.

“You look good,” I said.

“Do I?”

“You do.”

“That’s good?” she said.

“It is.”

“Merci,”
she said.

“
Merci
back,” I said.

The mysterious fortune-teller,
I thought. I entered and closed the door behind me.

I’d been all over. Met a lot of women in my time, some with taste and some without a lick of it. Some, through the many years, have been refined and some downright uncouth. Some smart and some not so smart, but I’d never run across anyone like this woman, Séraphine.

She had a sense of herself. She was self-assured unlike any woman I’d ever met. Her strange and suspect profession was fitting for her in some ways. Might be the only way this sultry, unusual, almost otherworldly creature could exist.

She had a horsehair belt around her narrow waist. Her long, dark hair was pulled up and concealed under a black bowler hat that was a few sizes too large for her. She was wearing her large gold hoop earrings but was without her long strings of beads and shells.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said.

“That you look goddamn good?”

“That I am here in your room.”

“I’d mind if you weren’t.”

“Good.”