by Robert Knott
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.
39.
Valentine smiled and drank his whiskey. Virgil looked at him for a long moment, took a sip of whiskey, and set his glass on the bar in front of him.
“Said you’d just as soon be dead as to ever cross the Mississippi again,” Virgil said.
“I say that?”
Virgil stared at him for a long amount of time, then offered a sharp drop of his chin.
“Did.”
“I lied,” Valentine said.
“You did that, too,” Virgil said.
“Well, there you have it,” Valentine said. “Intentions sometimes just go awry.”
“Awry?” Virgil said. “More to the fact, truth was never something you was ever too concerned with.”
Valentine laughed.
“Well, now, hell, Virgil, truth is way over appreciated.”
Virgil shook his head a little.
“Over appreciated?” Virgil said.
Valentine laughed, then looked to me.
“Over appreciated. ’Sides, plans are like goddamn rail tracks, they just put you places and that is it, buy a ticket and you go there. I prefer the open road as opposed to being staked in the yard like a chicken-chasing dog.”
I was beginning to see some similarities between Virgil and Valentine. They were kind of like the opposite sides of a coin.
“I was in some trouble,” Valentine said. “Spent a little time in jail over here for it, nothing serious. Virgil never really . . .”
“Robbery,” Virgil said.
“He’s a stickler for details.”
“You shot a man in the process.”
“He pulled on me,” Valentine said.
Valentine smiled at me and continued. He was addressing me with his talk, but he was really talking to Virgil.
“Anyway,” he said. “This bone-dry country was bothering the hell out of me, so I made my way back to the more civilized world. According to Virgil, I verbalized I would not come back this way, that’s what Virgil is talking about. Isn’t that right, Virgil?”
Virgil didn’t answer him.
“So, hell, let’s see . . . I been back on this side for the last ten years,” he said.
“Heard rumblings of that,” Virgil said.
“Was hoping I’d find you someplace along the road, that I’d get to see you, Virgil, that you’d be doing okay.”
Valentine picked up the bottle and filled the glasses.
“And now, after all these years, here you are.”
“Yep,” Virgil said.
“My little brother,” he said.
Virgil calmly stared at his whiskey.
Valentine looked at Virgil and smiled a little, but Virgil did not look at him.
“Was east there for a spell, New York, Boston. Like the wine, and the food is a hell of a lot better, but I got tired of those goddamn Yankees. They are different. Was in Chicago, too. I like Chicago. Ever been to Chicago, Everett?”
“I have,” I said.
“It is a decent place,” Valentine said. “But way by God cold Chicago . . . Worked my way back, was in Abilene there for a bit, then Denver for a while, then eventually made my way down to Texas. Goddamn Texas.”
He smiled and nodded to me a little.
“I’ve been doing pretty well, Virgil,” he said. “Don’t have a special lady friend like you, but I get by . . .”
Virgil crossed his arms and leaned back, and Valentine leveled a look at him.
“Don’t worry, Virgil, I’m here on business,” he said. “Nothing for you to worry yourself about . . . but I won’t be gone until I get paid for my services rendered. Mone
y well deserved, too, I have to say. I waited on him for days before I caught him.”
“Where?”
“Juárez,” he said. “That is where I reside these days. Well, across the river in godforsaken El Paso, Texas, but when duty calls, I go across the river and just wait, easy pickings really. So many on the run end up there in Juárez. That is why I moved down that way in the first place, to be close to a revenue source. Just have to sit back and let them come to you, kind of like waiting on a dove to come in on a sunflower patch at sunset. Pretty stupid on Boston Bill’s part, in particular.”
“Why’s that,” I said.
“Because the big sonofabitch stood out like a black leopard in a litter of kitties down there.”
“Any thought as to whether he did it?” I said.
Valentine looked to Virgil and then to me.
“He said he didn’t, but you know, they always say that,” he said. “But if I were a betting man, which I am, I would say no.”
“What makes you say that?” I said.
Valentine thought for a moment.
“Well,” he said. “Because he’s a . . . well, he just doesn’t have what it takes is about all I can say.”
“What makes you say that?” I said.
“Just a hunch,” Valentine said.
“Regardless, the judge will see to his future as he deems fit,” Virgil said.
Valentine nodded, looking at Virgil.
“Denver authorities are here, too, to pay you for your service,” Virgil said.
“Good,” Valentine said.
“They are right across the way and up the block here, Colcord Hotel.”
Valentine nodded.
“Good to know,” he said.
“Then you’ll be moving on,” Virgil said.
“Not sure, Virgil,” Valentine said with a smile. “Since the judge is here and the preliminary will be tomorrow, I thought I would at least stay around and see the outcome.”
“Then you’ll be moving on?” Virgil said.
“I’ll be gone soon enough, little brother,” he said with a smile. “Rest assured.”
40.
I ate dinner with Virgil and Allie that night, and it was not until we finished Allie’s scalded plum pudding that Virgil said anything to her about his long-lost brother. Virgil took his time and explained to her pretty much the same history he shared with me about Valentine Pell, but without the tidbits that describe the unfavorable character details.
“And he’s the bounty hunter that had captured Boston Bill Black,” she said. “And returned him here to Appaloosa?”
“Yep,” Virgil said. “’Fraid so.”
“Valentine Pell?” she said. “Well, isn’t that a pretty name? I can’t believe this. Your brother?”
“Half,” Virgil said. “Half-brother.”
“Half, yes,” she said. “Well, my lands.”
Virgil nodded and Allie looked at me and grinned.
“My God,” she said.
She shook her head in disbelief and looked to me as if I should say something.
“How about that?” I said.
“I had no idea,” she said.
She remained looking at me as if I needed to say something more.
“Tonight was the first time I ever heard of him, too, Allie,” I said.
“Goodness,” she said. “Well, I just can’t believe it.”
“Yep,” I said.
“You visited with him, Everett?” she said.
“I did, well, some, he did most of the talking . . . He likes to talk.”
“What did he talk about?”
“Oh,” I said, “this and that.”
“What’d you think about him?”
“Well, he’s, um . . . an interesting sort of fella.”
“He’ll be moving on soon,” Virgil said.
“Good Lord,” she said. “And what now? What will happen with Boston Bill Black?”
“He will be arraigned in front of Judge Callison,” Virgil said.
Allie’s eyes were wide. They had been wide, looking back and forth between Virgil and me, since Virgil first mentioned Valentine.
She put her napkin to her mouth with both hands and dabbed at any touches of pudding that may or may not have been on her lips as she stared at Virgil. She held the napkin there to her mouth for a moment, then, in a rather dramatic fashion, let her hands go limp and fall to each side of her plate, making the dishes rattle.
“I feel like I don’t even know you, Virgil,” she said.
“What?”
“I don’t.”
Virgil looked to me, then to Allie.
“What are you talking about, Allie?” he said.
“You have a brother?”
“That’s what I just said.”
“And I never knew.”
“We were never really that close, Allie.”
Allie started to frown, then abruptly turned sideways in her chair and stared at the floor.
“But I guess that stands to reason,” she said, shaking her head slightly, as if she were talking to the floor.
Virgil looked to me, then to Allie.
“What stands to reason?” he said.
“That I don’t feel like I know you,” she said. “Because you never feel it is necessary to share anything with me.”
“Not true, Allie,” he said.
“It is true, Virgil,” Allie said.
I thought about what Valentine had said earlier about truth being over appreciated.
“Not intentional,” Virgil said.
“Well, what is it, then, if it is not intentional?”
“Just not something I ever really felt like talking about.”
“Well, obviously,” she said.
“Hell, Allie, if it is any comfort to you, I was not sure Valentine was even still alive.”
“It’s not, Virgil,” she said.
Allie got to her feet. She moved her chair back under the table to give herself room to pace between the table and the cupboard. She made a few turns, cogitating this revelation and its residual, then looked to Virgil.
“Where is he?”
“Boston House.”
“Did you invite him here?”
“I have not,” he said.
“Why?”
“Not necessary.”
“And why not?”
“Just not a good idea, Allie,” he said.
“What about me?” she said.
Virgil didn’t say anything, then Allie pointed to the Boston House.
“You need to go over there and invite him over here.”
“Don’t really want to do that, Allie.”
She put her hands on her hips.
“Virgil, I want to know your brother,” she said. “I have no family to speak of, and, well, family is important, no matter.”
Virgil just looked at her.
“If you don’t,” she said, “I will.”
“He’ll be gone soon.”
“Even more of a reason for us to get to know one another,” she said. “Everett said he was interesting, and I’d very much like to meet him, Virgil.”
I could feel Virgil cut his eyes to me, but I remained looking at Allie.
“Please,” she said.
“Don’t think it a good idea . . .” Virgil said as he folded his napkin and dropped it on his plate. “But I will ask him to come by and visit before he leaves.”
“Good,” Allie said. “Tomorrow I meet with my ladies’ social, but after I will make something delicious for supper and have a proper sit-down visit with the only known kin between the two of us that we know is alive.”
Virgil looked to me. I could tell the notion of Valentine Pell coming over for a proper sit-down
visit was not something he was looking forward to.
“Anybody else?” Allie said.
“What?” Virgil said.
“There’s no one else, is there, Virgil?” Allie said.
“No, Allie.”
“You sure?” Allie said. “Your sister Easter is not gonna show up here?”
41.
The following morning Virgil and I accompanied the Denver men, DA Eldon Payne and the captain of police, G. W. McPherson, to the First Appaloosa Bank and Trust just after it opened for business.
Valentine was waiting on the steps when we arrived.
“Good morning, good gentlemen,” he said. “I certainly appreciate you coming here this time of the a.m. so we can square away the fortuitous exchange.”
Payne and McPherson went about the process of transferring dollars out of their account and into Valentine’s account.
After Valentine was assured the funds were successfully transferred to his bank in El Paso, he remained with us as we walked back to the courthouse. Payne and McPherson were in front of us as we walked. No one but Valentine bothered to say anything as we moved on toward the courthouse for the hearing of Truitt and Boston Bill.
“Now that we got that money squared away, I will pontificate about the saga of Boston Bill Black,” Valentine said with some volume for Payne and McPherson’s benefit. “I can tell you that you fellas might just be paying me again to find him after he’s set free. Only maybe this time you will leave the ‘alive’ part off of the ‘dead or alive’ wording. Seems to me somebody has a personal vendetta for this sap. By no means am I saying he did or did not do the deed of murdering Ruth Ann Messenger, that will be for the judge and God Almighty to decide, but I got a suspicion there is more to this sordid yarn than meets the eye.”
Valentine stopped talking as we walked up the steps to the courthouse. When we entered the courtroom we discovered—and it was no surprise to me—that the room was fairly crowded with expectant spectators.
Besides a horse race, or a good dance, or an alley fistfight, courtroom drama was always an attraction in Appaloosa, especially when it involved murder, and this was looking to be no exception.
Chastain and his deputies already had Truitt Shirley and Boston Bill Black locked up in hand and leg irons. They were sitting up front in the warm courtroom, waiting for the scheduled noontime hearing with Judge Callison.
