“Yes, he get to see what you are like.”
“Same with the women?”
Pony nodded.
“Kill white man, take white women, have white women, sell white women, see what you do.”
“And now this,” Virgil said.
Pony nodded again.
“You think it’s about Pike?” Virgil said.
“Maybe,” Pony said. “Maybe about you.”
Virgil was sitting with his chair tilted back. He let it slowly come forward until it was flat.
“He’s thinking we’ll come after him,” Virgil said.
“Maybe,” Pony said.
“So maybe it ain’t about Pike,” Virgil said.
“Maybe about all,” Pony said.
“Pike and Everett and me.”
“Might,” Pony said.
“You been with Pike a long time,” Virgil said.
“Scouted for him in Army,” Pony said.
“He done anything,” Virgil said, “you know about, might rile this Indian?”
“Pike killed a lot of Indians,” Pony said.
“But you work for him,” I said.
“Half Mexican,” Pony said.
“And half Indian,” I said.
“Half Chiricahua,” Pony said. “Pike didn’t kill no Chiricahua.”
“Who’d he kill most?” Virgil said.
“Comanche,” Pony said. “Hell, I kill Comanche, too.”
“Think this Indian’s Comanche?” Virgil said.
“Don’t know,” Pony said. “It’s Comanche land. Arrow could be Comanche.”
“But you don’t know,” I said.
“Indian make arrow out of what he can find,” Pony said. “ ’Specially toy arrow he going to leave behind.”
“Name’s Buffalo Calf,” I said.
Pony shrugged.
“Speaks English good,” Virgil said.
“Me too,” Pony said.
“Sometimes,” I said, “some Indians’ camp would get wiped out and they’d take a couple kids that survived and send them to Indian school. Teach them to be good Americans.”
Virgil nodded. He sat silently for a while, then tilted his chair back again and looked at the street.
“So maybe he’s after Pike because Pike killed some Comanches when he was in the Army,” Virgil said.
“Not in battle, though,” I said. “Comanches see death in battle as honorable. Part of how things are. No reason to revenge such a death.”
“So it would be something else, then,” Virgil said.
“Maybe women, children, something like that,” I said.
“Pony?” Virgil said.
“Sí, jefe,” Pony said. “Comanche people, Chiricahua people, most Indian people, death between warriors honrosco.”
“And maybe Buffalo Calf got scooped up and sent to school,” Virgil said. “And now he’s grown up and wants revenge?”
Pony shrugged. I shrugged.
“Could be,” I said.
“So, if he’s after Pike, why all the rigmarole,” Virgil said.
“Maybe he wants Pike to know it’s him,” I said. “And to think about it. Maybe it’s got some private meaning to him.”
“And maybe we got it all wrong,” Virgil said.
“And maybe we’ll never know, even when it’s over,” I said.
“Sometimes you don’t,” Virgil said.
“Even if you went to West Point?” I said.
“Maybe even then,” Virgil said.
“Disappointing,” I said.
“Sometimes it’s just about shooting,” Virgil said.
“Least we’re good at that,” I said.
“And if it ain’t Pike?” Virgil said. “Why us?”
“Power?” I said, and looked at Pony.
Pony nodded.
“He see you come look at first dead man,” Pony said. “He see you come take women back. See you have power. He kill you. He take your power.”
“And Pike?” Virgil said.
“He kills Pike,” I said, “we still have power.”
Virgil nodded.
“Complexicated,” he said.
“Very,” I said.
Virgil looked at Pony, who was looking at nothing and seeing everything, the way Virgil did.
“Maybe J.D. and Kirby will get him,” Virgil said.
Pony shook his head.
“You with us on this?” Virgil said. “If they don’t?”
“Yes,” Pony said.
Virgil grinned at him.
“You after his power?” Virgil said.
Pony didn’t grin, but he looked like he might have.
“Sí, jefe,” he said.
41
MARY BETH CAME INTO the sheriff’s office after lunchtime, mush-mouth drunk and weaving as she walked.
“Wanna report a man fuckin’ a child,” she mumbled.
Virgil stood and went around his desk and eased her onto a chair. Then he sat on the edge of his desk right in front of her.
“A man fucking a child,” Virgil said.
“Used to fuck me, now he fuckin’ her.”
Virgil nodded.
“You thinking about what happened to you and Laurel, ’fore we found you?”
“Naw,” Mary Beth said. “Brother Percival fucking us.”
“You let him?” Virgil said.
“I don’ . . .”
Mary Beth slid suddenly off the chair. Quick as he was, Virgil got a hold of her as she went and broke her fall. He eased her the rest of the way down and she sat on the floor with her legs splayed.
“Everett,” Virgil said. “Whyn’t you go see if you can find Allie.”
I nodded and left.
I found her in The Church of the Brotherhood, practicing on the organ. To me it sounded like a cow in labor, but I was never musical.
“What’s wrong?” she said when she saw me.
“Nothing bad,” I said. “Mary Beth Ostermueller is drunk and falling down in Virgil’s office.”
Allie stood up.
“Oh, God,” she said.
As we walked down to the office, Allie said, “What is she doing there. What is she telling you?”
“She was telling us that Brother Percival was fucking Laurel,” I said. “ ’Fore she fell off the chair and Virgil caught her.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Allie said.
“Said he’d been doing it to both of them,” I said.
“Brother Percival is a man of God.”
“I’ve heard even they do it, sometimes,” I said.
“Not if they are holy men like Brother Percival,” Allie said.
“He ever show any interest in you?” I said.
“Of course he shows interest. He cares about my soul. He shows interest in everyone.”
“Care about any of your other parts?” I said.
“Everett!”
When we were at the office, I opened the door and ushered her in. Virgil was at his desk, his feet up, his white shirt gleaming from the laundry.
“Where’s Mary Beth?” Allie said.
“Sleeping in a cell,” Virgil said.
“What did she tell you?” Allie said.
“Not much,” Virgil said.
“Everett says she’s been accusing Brother Percival.”
“She said he was poking Laurel,” Virgil said.
“Everett says she was drunk.”
“Seemed so,” Virgil said.
“She’s drunk all the time,” Allie said.
“Don’t mean she’s lying,” Virgil said.
“Not on purpose,” Allie said. “I know that she had a bad time when the Indian took her. Laurel, too. And it made her crazy, and when she’s drunk she’s crazier. I been trying to help her, and help Laurel, and so has Brother Percival.”
“Girl talking yet?” Virgil said.
“No,” Allie said. “And Mary Beth’s crawled into her bottle and given up being a mother.”
“So who looks out for the daughter
?” Virgil said.
“I do. I’ve become the closest thing she has to a mother.”
“And she ain’t, ah, indicated nothing to you about Brother Percival’s intentions.”
“No, of course not. You think I would stand by and let that happen? She’s like a daughter to me.”
Virgil nodded. I poured myself a cup of coffee.
“Well,” Virgil said. “Me and Everett are deputy sheriffs here. I guess we got to go talk with Brother Percy.”
“He doesn’t like to be called Percy,” Allie said.
Virgil nodded.
“I’ll keep it in mind,” he said. “You mind sticking here and looking after her if she wakes up?”
“I’ve done it before,” Allie said.
“Good,” Virgil said. “ ’Preciate it.”
“And you’re really going to talk with Brother Percival?” Allie said.
“Just doing my duty,” Virgil said.
“She’ll say anything,” Allie said.
“I know,” Virgil said.
“You can’t believe anything she says.”
“I know.”
“She didn’t tell you anything about me?” Allie said.
“Anything to tell?” Virgil said.
“Virgil, you shouldn’t ask me a thing like that,” Allie said. “Of course there isn’t anything. What do you think I am?”
“Just asking,” Virgil said.
“You know how drunks are,” Allie said. “They don’t remember things that happened. They remember things that didn’t happen. They make up stories. They’ll say anything.”
“Keep that in mind, too,” Virgil said.
He stood. I put down my coffee cup, and we went out into the street.
“Mary Beth tell you anything you haven’t mentioned?” I said to Virgil as we walked toward the church.
Virgil didn’t answer. When Virgil doesn’t answer, it isn’t because he didn’t hear the question.
I didn’t press it.
42
WE TALKED TO BROTHER PERCIVAL in the front room of his house in the compound in back of the church.
“Where’s my organist?” Brother Percival said, and smiled.
He was in his official church clothes: white robe, sandals, long hair.
“Allie’s looking out for a drunk down at the jail,” Virgil said. “Woman named Mary Beth Ostermueller.”
“Poor Mary Beth,” Percival said. “We’re all trying to help her, but . . .”
“She says you’re fucking her daughter,” Virgil said.
Percival looked like he might burst into prayer.
“Oh, dear Lord,” he said.
“Said you was fucking her, and now you’re fucking Laurel.”
“Must you speak so coarsely, Deputy?” Percival said.
“Just quoting Mary Beth, Reverend,” Virgil said.
“She was drunk.”
“She was.”
“The charge is, as you must know, entirely untrue,” Brother Percival said.
The front room of Brother Percival’s house wasn’t much: a table and chair, an uncomfortable-looking round-backed blue couch, a large Bible on a stand near the door. A big photograph of Brother Percival hung in an oval frame on the wall. In the picture he was wearing a dark suit with a vest and a white shirt with a dark tie. In the picture, his hair was short.
“I’m sure it is, Reverend,” Virgil said. “But me ’n Everett, here, bein’ law officers, we have to ask.”
“Of course you do,” Percival said. “I understand perfectly.”
“Got any idea why she might be thinking these things about you?” Virgil said.
“Aside from drunkenness?” Percival said.
“ ’Side from that,” Virgil said.
“Perhaps my attempts to share my religion with them, to help them, somehow became distorted in her degenerated mind. What happened to her and all. The poor woman clearly isn’t right.”
“Something’s wrong,” Virgil said. “Tell me a little ’bout your religion.”
“My religion is the presence of God in me.”
“How’s God feel about sex?” Virgil said.
“Do not blaspheme,” Percival said.
“Sorry,” Virgil said. “Tell me a little ’bout how you been trying to help these two ladies we brought you.”
“I counsel them every day,” Percival said.
“Meanin’ you take them someplace and talk to them,” Virgil said.
“Yes,” Percival said. “I talk with them here. Though it is, of course, a bit more than that.”
“Girl talk any?”
“Not yet,” Percival said. “Poor child.”
“Well, she probably don’t argue much,” Virgil said.
“No, she surely doesn’t,” Percival said. “I’m not sure she understands what I’m saying. I’m not sure she is at all in her right mind.”
“What are you saying?” I said.
“I explain to them that His eye is on the fall of a sparrow,” Percival said. “That He never sends you a burden too great for you to bear.”
“Ain’t found that to be the case myself, Reverend,” Virgil said. “But you probably know more than I do ’bout all that.”
“I know that the Lord resides in me,” Percival said. “I know what the Lord shares with me.”
“Lord always been there?” Virgil said.
“He is always there in all of us,” Percival said. “But many of us deny him.”
He looked sort of pointedly, I thought, at me and Virgil.
“Didn’t realize he was there,” I said.
“I denied him, at first,” Percival said. “There was a time when I denied God, when I lived a life of the physical self, when I drank, when I committed fornication, when I relied on violence. But God would not be denied. He battered my defenses. He forced himself upon me until we have become one.”
“You and God?” I said.
“Yes.”
“One thing?” I said.
“Yes.”
“You and God being one thing,” I said. “Must be pretty hard to think anything you do is wrong.”
“The Lord governs me in all things,” Percival said.
“He tell you to keep Choctaw Brown on the payroll?” Virgil said.
“As you must know, there is no payroll,” Percival said. “Choctaw came to me, as I had been. He came from a life of dissipation and cruelty. He said he wanted to be saved. We welcomed him to the brotherhood.”
“He saved?” I said.
“He is.”
“Still wearing a Colt,” Virgil said.
“I told you we are militant Christians,” Percival said. “We will not allow those who have not been saved to do us harm.”
“I guess probably I ain’t been saved yet,” Virgil said. “But I don’t want you touching that girl.”
“To accuse me is to accuse the Lord, who abides in me.”
“Seems to be the case,” Virgil said.
Percival seemed to get taller as he stood in front of us. He folded his big arms across his wide chest.
“You can’t accuse me,” Percival said.
His voice was firm but not very loud.
“Because of the Lord?” I said.
“We are one,” Percival said. “You cannot accuse us.”
Virgil looked at Percival for a while, the way you’d look at an odd insect you’d found. Percival stood with his arms still folded like he was going to give the Sermon on the Mount. Then he turned and stalked out of the room.
As we walked back to the sheriff’s office, Virgil said, “You believe any of that?”
“Sure,” I said. “Like I believe the world’s flat.”
“Looks flat,” Virgil said.
“But it ain’t.”
“Can’t prove it ain’t,” Virgil said.
“You believe what Percival’s saying?”
Virgil shook his head.
“I think he’d fuck a snake if you held it for him,” Virgil said.
>
“You think he believes what he’s saying?” I said.
“He might,” Virgil said.
“Think he’s been bothering the women?” I said.
“Something you mentioned,” Virgil said. “You mentioned that if he thought God was in him and he was, you know, part of God, and God was part of him, then he’d feel pretty good about doing anything he wanted.”
“Anything God does is the right thing to do,” I said.
“You think he thinks he’s God?”
“Might,” I said.
“That’s disappointing,” Virgil said.
“ ’Cause you thought you were?”
“Still do,” Virgil said. “Just don’t like it that Percival thinks different.”
“So we know it,” I said.
“Can’t prove it,” Virgil said.
“Mary Beth saying so ain’t enough?”
“Nope,” Virgil said. “Too drunk.”
“We could shoot him anyway, just to be safe,” I said.
“Can’t do that,” Virgil said. “Got to know.”
“How you gonna know?” I said.
“Gotta ask the girl,” he said.
43
ALLIE BROUGHT LAUREL down to the office.
“She got anything to say about Percival,” Virgil said, “better to ask her here.”
Allie sat with Laurel on the couch. I leaned on the doorjamb. Virgil moved his chair to the couch and sat down in front of Laurel.
“You remember me, Virgil,” he said.
She might have nodded.
“I need to ask you some questions about Brother Percival. And I need you to tell me the answers.”
She stared at him as if he hadn’t spoken.
“I can whisper to you,” Virgil said. “And you can whisper back to me if you want to, but I need you to help me with this.”
“Go ahead, honey,” Allie said. “You can do it. It’s important.”
Laurel showed no sign that she heard.
Virgil sat quietly for a time. No one can be as quiet as Virgil Cole, when he wanted to be quiet.
After a little time, he said, “Allie, you and Everett wait outside.”
Allie looked at Laurel.
“You all right with that, honey,” she said.
“We’ll be okay,” Virgil said.
Again, Laurel might have nodded. I opened the office door and stood aside. Allie didn’t seem pleased. But she stood and went out. I followed her and closed the door. We stood near the front window and watched. Virgil took off his hat and put it on the desk behind him. Then he leaned forward and put his face next to Laurel’s and whispered something. He waited. She was motionless. He leaned forward again and whispered and then put his ear next to her lips. The two of them sat that way, with their heads together, Virgil’s hands folded in his lap. I could see that he was whispering.
Brimstone Page 11
