“Sounds like it to me,” Virgil said.
“Meanwhile,” he said, “I’m prepared to make you boys special deputies reporting only to me. I’ll give the same deal to your friend Teagarden.”
“Everett?” Virgil said.
“Don’t want to be a special deputy,” I said.
“Me, either,” Virgil said. “Can’t speak for Chauncey, but it don’t seem probable.”
“Will you side with Laird?” Callico said.
“Don’t know,” Virgil said. “You know, Everett?”
“I don’t,” I said.
“He’ll lose,” Callico said. “I got twenty-five men. I’ll close Appaloosa down and run it like conquered territory until the town is mine and knows it.”
“Then what?” Virgil said.
“Then we move on.”
“What happens to Appaloosa?”
“Don’t know,” Callico said. “Won’t care. I won’t be moving on to something worse.”
Callico looked at both of us and shook his head slowly for a while.
“It’s sad, really,” he said finally. “You boys had a chance to get on board something important here, and you’re too dumb to see it.”
“Maybe it ain’t dumb,” Virgil said.
Callico gave a humorless laugh.
“What else could it be.”
“Aw, hell, I dunno,” Virgil said. “Probably dumb.”
He stood. I stood, and we walked down the long office past the palace guard and out the front door.
60
WHEN WE CAME back to Virgil’s house in the late afternoon, Chauncey Teagarden was sipping whiskey on the front porch and watching Allie flirt with him.
“Mr. Teagarden has been entertaining me with tales of New Orleans,” Allie said when we sat down.
“Entertaining fella,” Virgil said, and poured himself a little whiskey.
“He says he knew Mrs. Callico in New Orleans,” Allie said.
“The Countess,” I said.
“Did you know her, too, Everett?”
“Nope, just what Chauncey has told me.”
“Was she really a countess?”
Chauncey glanced at Virgil. Virgil shrugged faintly. And nodded even more faintly.
“Was a whore,” Chauncey said.
“A whore?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” Allie said. “Just because you’ve been a whore doesn’t mean you’re always a whore.”
“No,” Chauncey said.
“People can change. They can grow. And they do,” Allie said. “She’s turned into a fine lady.”
“Surely has,” Virgil said. “Also the one that says Laird ran from combat.”
“Amelia?” Chauncey said. “How the hell would she know.”
“Probably don’t,” Virgil said.
“You think she made it up?” Chauncey said.
“I do,” Virgil said.
“You think Amelia Callico is telling lies about the general?” Allie said.
“Yep.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Get her husband elected mayor,” Virgil said.
“You and Everett gonna have to take a side here ’fore it’s over. Too much shooting gonna be done, and you boys are too good at it not to get pulled in.”
“Callico’s got twenty-five policemen,” I said. “You got how many?”
“Me and Laird’s hands,” Chauncey said.
“How many gun hands?”
“Me.”
“What do you think, Everett?”
“Never liked Callico,” I said.
“Hard to like,” Virgil said.
“Pony’s in Buffalo Springs,” I said. “I could ride down and get him.”
“That’d be three of you,” Chauncey said. “And me makes all we need.”
I looked at Virgil. He nodded.
“I’ll ride on down and get Pony Flores,” I said.
Allie was listening to this as if a new universe was opening up. She poured herself some whiskey and drank it.
“Bring Laurel back, too,” she said. “For a visit.”
“No,” Virgil said. “He’ll bring you down there to stay with Laurel. I don’t want either of you around town for a time.”
“Just like that?” Allie said. “Go gallivanting off with Everett for a two-day trip.”
“You can make it in a day,” Virgil said. “And keep your hands off Everett.”
Allie blushed.
“Virgil,” I said. “You spoil everything.”
61
I LEFT ALLIE to stay with Laurel in the little shed next to the livery corral, where she and Pony lived while he wrangled the livery string and broke an occasional mustang.
“She talk?” I said.
“Some,” Pony said.
“Enough?” I said.
“Yes.”
It was cloudy and gray riding north, but there was no rain.
“She mind you going?” I said.
“When see you, she know why you here,” Pony said.
“She say she understand.”
“Does she?”
“Yes.”
“Wish Allie did,” I said. “She bitched the whole way down here yesterday.”
“Why she bitch?”
I did a high-voiced imitation of Allie.
“ ‘What if he’s killed? What happens to me? This isn’t his fight… Why is he involved at all… If he loved me, he wouldn’t…’ ”
Pony looked at the dark sky.
“Apache man warrior,” he said. “Apache woman proud.”
“I know,” I said.
Pony grinned.
“In land of Blue-Eyed Devil, not so simple,” he said. “Man can’t always be warrior. Man get to be cowboy and store man and saloon man. And man who sit in office. Not warrior, I just man who saddle horse. Pitch hay. Pick up horse shit. But I go with you and Virgil, I warrior.”
“Not everybody wants to be a warrior,” I said.
“No. But nobody want to be pick-up-horse-shit man, either,” Pony said.
“Some people like it ’cause it’s safe, I guess.”
“Life not lived to be safe. Safe make you weak,” Pony said. “Make you slow. Make you tired.”
We pretty much gave the horses their head, keeping them pointed north but letting them pick the trail. Half a day on the trail and it began to rain again. Not too hard but steady. The horses paid no attention. We put on our slickers and buttoned them up and pulled the brims of our hats down and hunched a little forward over the necks of the horses.
“Things turn out the way they heading,” I said, “you ain’t gonna be tired for a good while.”
62
ON THE FOLLOWING MONDAY, Callico declared a state of martial law to exist in Appaloosa, and called off the election.
The office of the chief of police is now the highest authority in Appaloosa, the proclamation read. It was signed Amos A. Callico, chief of police.
“Ain’t martial law supposed to be the Army?” Virgil said.
“Twenty-five policemen in a town this size is an Army,” I said.
“That’s a fact,” Virgil said.
The rain that had been coming down steadily for more than a week was tapering, and as we sat drinking coffee in Café Paris, it had stopped completely.
“Question is,” I said, “what’s the general going to do?”
“Yep.”
“Which,” I said, “will then lead to the question what are we going to do?”
“You didn’t go down and get Pony,” Virgil said. “’Cause we needed a fourth for whist.”
I nodded.
Chauncey Teagarden came in with his slicker unbuttoned. He hung his white hat on the rack and sat down at our table.
“Ain’t raining,” he said.
“Will again,” I said.
“Often does,” Chauncey said. “The general would like you boys to come out and see him, soon’s you can.”
“The election?” I said
.
“You boys heard about that,” Chauncey said.
“We did,” I said.
“General says he can’t do that,” Chauncey said.
“He can do what people will let him do,” Virgil said.
“Think that’s what he might want to talk about,” Chauncey said.
“In fact,” Virgil said, “might just as well ride back on out there with you when you go.”
“That’ll be soon’s I finish my coffee,” Chauncey said.
“Okay,” Virgil said. “Everett, bring the eight-gauge. Looks impressive.”
63
THE RAIN had picked up again by the time we got to the Lazy L. We hung our coats and hats in the front hall and went into the living room to sit by the big stone fireplace and let the fire dry us out.
The houseboy poured whiskey.
“Fine-looking decanter,” Virgil said.
He loved learning a new word and tried to use it as often as possible. The results weren’t always pretty, but he got this one right.
“I’m going after Callico,” the general said.
“So I understand,” Virgil said.
“I employ cattle hands. Not gunmen. They were ready to fight the Indian raid, self-defense. They are not ready to fight Callico and his police force.”
“No volunteers,” Virgil said.
The general drank some whiskey.
“None,” he said.
“Bad odds,” Virgil said.
The general nodded.
“They’re cowboys,” he said. “That’s what they signed on for.”
“And what did you sign on for?” I said.
“You remember what they taught us at West Point about honor and duty and country.”
I smiled.
“Vaguely,” I said.
“I fought on the wrong side in the wrong war because I felt to do otherwise would have been dishonorable. I still think so.”
“That war’s over,” I said.
“I cannot let this bandit take over the town like some Mongolian warlord,” the general said.
“Not sure Appaloosa’s worth dying for,” I said.
“We’ll help you,” Virgil said.
“I will pay you well,” the general said. “And any men you can enlist.”
“This one’s free,” Virgil said.
“Our history will be put aside for the duration,” the general said.
I was looking at Virgil. He generally had the moral scruples of a tarantula. And he declined to work for free.
“You work for free, you’re just a gunman,” he always said. “You do it ’cause you like it.”
Which was maybe some kind of moral scruple.
“Chauncey,” Virgil said. “You’re in.”
“Surely am,” Chauncey said.
“Pony?”
“Sí.”
“Everett and me, that’s four.”
“I am five,” the general said.
Virgil almost spoke but held it back.
“You think Cato and Rose might come down from Resolution for this?”
“I’d say they owe us,” I said.
“That’d make seven,” Virgil said. “Anybody got anybody else?”
No one spoke.
“Okay, twenty-five to seven,” Virgil said. “And since the seven is us, odds ain’t bad.”
He held his glass out.
“Reach me that there decanter, Pony,” he said.
Pony looked at him blankly.
“That there fancy bottle,” Virgil said. “Called a decanter.”
Pony nodded and poured Virgil a drink. Everyone else had a second.
“You have, I assume, engaged in this kind of operation before,” the general said.
“Yes, sir,” Virgil said.
“Do you wish my help in the planning?”
“No, sir,” Virgil said.
“I rather thought you wouldn’t,” the general said. “What’s the first step?”
“Pony’ll ride up and get Cato and Rose,” Virgil said.
“Do you have a plan?” the general said.
“Need to get an idea of Callico’s plan, and adjust to it,” Virgil said.
“A strategy, then?”
“Kill Callico and not get killed doin’ it,” Virgil said. “But first we gotta let him know we’re coming and see what preparations he makes.”
“How you going to do that?” the general said.
Virgil looked at me. I grinned.
“We’ll tell Allie,” I said.
64
WHEN PONY came back from Resolution with Cato and Rose, he brought them straight to the house. Virgil introduced Allie. She curtsied and went for the jug of corn whiskey.
“Pony tell you anything on the ride down?” Virgil said.
Rose laughed.
“Riding down here with Pony and Cato can be lonely business,” he said.
“Okay,” Virgil said. “What you see drinking whiskey at the table is what we go to war with.”
Cato and Rose both looked at Chauncey.
Rose said, “Frank Rose. This here’s Cato Tillson.”
“Chauncey Teagarden,” he said.
“Like your shirt,” Rose said.
Chauncey nodded.
“Like yours, too,” he said.
“Besides the six of us,” Virgil said, “there’s a general got to be in on it.”
“A general?” Rose said.
“From the Confederate states army.”
“Long-in-the-tooth general,” Rose said.
“Yes.”
“He think he’s in charge?”
“No,” Virgil said.
“He think you’re in charge?” Rose said.
“Yep.”
“No disrespect, Everett,” Rose said. “But Virgil ain’t in charge, me and Cato go back to Resolution.”
“I’m in charge,” Virgil said.
“Got a plan yet?” Cato said.
“We’re developing one,” Virgil said. “Tell ’em, Everett, if you would. You being a West Point graduate.”
“Allie here is a close friend of Callico’s wife, Amelia, the Countess of Storyville.”
“Storyville,” Rose said.
“Yep. But Allie don’t care-they are pals. So she lets it slide that we’re coming after Callico and tells her to warn Callico but not tell who we are.”
“And she thinks the Countess will do that?”
“No,” I said. “Allie’s playing dumb. We know Mrs. Callico will give us away.”
“But then,” Virgil said. “He got two choices: comes right after us or, two, he sets up for us to come after him.”
“Either way we’re setting ourselves up,” Rose said.
“’Cept they don’t know we know they know,” Virgil said. “So we watch them watching us.”
“You think they’ll come for us?” Cato said.
“No,” Virgil said. “Man wants to be president. Looks better if he defeats a bunch of ruffians who attacked him.”
“How ’bout the wife?” Rose said.
“Lady Macbeth,” Chauncey said.
“Who?” Rose said.
“Bad woman in a play,” I said. “She wants him to be president, too.”
“How good are his constables?” Cato said.
“Don’t know yet,” I said. “Pretty sure not as good as us.”
“But pretty sure twenty-five to six,” Rose said.
“Seven,” Virgil said.
“The general,” Rose said.
“Yeah.”
“Twenty-five to six, and a geezer,” Rose said.
“He’ll carry his weight,” Virgil said.
“He better,” Frank said.
“He will,” Chauncey said.
65
IT WAS LATE. Chauncey went back to the Lazy L. Cato and Rose went to sleep in Virgil’s shed. Allie was cleaning up, and Virgil and I sat on the porch and looked at the first clear sky we’d seen in two weeks. There were stars.
“A
llie,” I said.
“Odd,” Virgil said. “Ain’t it.”
“She worships Amelia Callico,” I said. “She thinks Amelia Callico is the Queen of New Orleans.”
“She gets faint if the Countess looks at her,” Virgil said.
“And she don’t want this fight to happen,” I said.
“She don’t,” Virgil said.
“But she sets the trap on her ’cause you asked her to.”
“Allie loves me,” Virgil said.
“Except when she doesn’t,” I said.
Virgil sipped his whiskey.
“She always loves me,” he said. “Sometimes other stuff gets in the way.”
“She wants to be more than she is,” I said. “She cheats on you. She gets so sucked up into her self that she can’t see you for a while. She gets lost. You go find her. She strays off. You bring her back. You love her.”
“I do,” Virgil said.
“Why?”
“Don’t know,” Virgil said.
We poured ourselves more whiskey.
“But you do,” I said.
“Yep.”
“You ever spend time thinking about it?”
“Nope.”
I grinned.
“No,” I said. “You wouldn’t.”
“I like it,” Virgil said. “It works for me. Why fuck around with it.”
“Don’t spend much time figuring yourself out, either,” I said.
“Same thing,” Virgil said.
“You like yourself,” I said.
Virgil grinned.
“So, why fuck with it?” he said.
“You know why you’re getting into General Laird’s fight?” I said.
“Killed his kid,” Virgil said.
“Feel guilty ’bout that?”
“Nope,” Virgil said. “Kid gave me no choice. Don’t mean I can’t help his old man out.”
“And we don’t like Callico, do we?” I said.
“No,” Virgil said. “We don’t.”
“And we do kind of like putting together a little fire-fight like this.”
Virgil drank some corn whiskey and held it in his mouth and looked up at the stars. He nodded slowly.
“We do,” he said.
66
NEW MOON,” General Laird said. Six of us sat our horses back from the ridgeline in the near-perfect darkness above Appaloosa.
Blue-Eyed Devil Page 13
