“What is he doing?” Allie said.
“Whispering,” I said.
“I don’t know if she should be left alone with a man after what happened to her,” Allie said.
“Don’t seem to mind,” I said.
“And Virgil did rescue her,” Allie said.
“All by himself,” I said.
“No, you know what I mean.”
“Virgil was in charge,” I said.
“Virgil’s always in charge,” Allie said.
“True,” I said.
“How’s he know to whisper to her?” Allie said.
“Virgil knows things,” I said.
“How’s he know it’s the right thing to do?”
“Virgil always knows what he’s doing is the right thing to do,” I said. “ ’Cept when it ain’t, and he knows that, too.”
“I guess I still don’t understand him,” Allie said.
“Nothing to understand,” I said. “Virgil don’t never pretend.”
We watched the whispered pantomime through the office window. Laurel was still motionless, her head and Virgil’s close together. I couldn’t tell if she was making any response. But she hadn’t pulled away. I realized that while their heads were close together, Virgil was not touching Laurel.
“I don’t know anyone like him,” Allie said. “Do you?”
“You don’t get to be Virgil Cole,” I said, “being like other folks.”
In the office I saw Virgil nod his head. Then Laurel nodded hers. They still had their heads close to each other.
“Jesus,” I said. “I think they’re talking.”
“My God,” Allie said.
Virgil nodded again. And waited. And nodded again. And whispered. Laurel nodded. Virgil nodded slowly and kept it up, as if Laurel was saying things he agreed with. Then she leaned forward and put her face against his neck and cried. Virgil sat quietly. He didn’t make any move to touch her.
“I better get in there,” Allie said.
“No,” I said.
“She’s crying,” Allie said.
I blocked the doorway.
“No,” I said.
She couldn’t get by me, and she knew it. So we turned back to the window. Inside, Virgil sat quietly while Laurel cried. After a time she stopped and raised her head and sat back. Virgil sat back, too. He reached behind him to the desk and picked up his hat. He put it on and adjusted it, and nodded once at Laurel.
She smiled at him.
“Did she smile?” Allie said.
“Yes,” I said.
He stood and came to the door and opened it.
“We’re done in here,” Virgil said.
“She spoke?” Allie said.
“Yes.”
“What did she say?” Allie said.
“I promised I wouldn’t tell,” Virgil said.
Allie looked like she wanted to argue, but she didn’t. Laurel stood.
Virgil said, “I’ll come by. We’ll take a walk.”
Laurel nodded.
“Maybe tomorrow,” Virgil said.
Laurel nodded.
He looked at Allie.
“Stay with her,” he said.
“I will,” Allie said. “I do.”
She put her arm around Laurel and they went out of the office.
I looked at Virgil. He shrugged slightly. I didn’t ask him what she’d said. I knew he wouldn’t tell me.
44
TWO SADDLE HORSES plodded up Arrow Street, each dragging something. Sitting on the front porch, Virgil and I watched them come. As they got closer we could see that what they were dragging were the bodies of two men.
I stood.
Virgil said, “Let’s see where they’re going.”
We went out to the street as the horses passed and followed them up Arrow Street. The dead men were covered with dirt, and their heads were black with dried blood.
“Scalped,” Virgil said.
I nodded.
“You recognize them?” I said.
“Kinda hard, them being such a mess,” Virgil said.
“Want to guess?” I said.
“J.D. and Kirby,” Virgil said.
“What I’m guessing,” I said.
At Fifth Street, the horses stopped in front of Pike’s Palace and stood at the hitching rail, and drank from the trough. Virgil went and looked at one of the dead men.
“J.D.,” he said.
He looked at the second man.
“Kirby,” he said.
“They were good,” I said.
“Not as good as the Indian,” Virgil said.
“Guess the Indian’s got their power,” I said.
“Guess,” Virgil said.
“No arrow,” I said. “Probably figured it would fall out while they were dragging into town.”
“Scalping sends the same message,” Virgil said.
“Don’t look like they been dragged far,” I said.
“I’d guess edge of town,” Virgil said.
“So he kills them,” I said, “brings them to the edge of town, hitches them up, and lets the horses drag ’em in.”
“Knows they’ll head for home.”
“Which they did,” I said.
Virgil nodded.
“So Pike’d see them,” Virgil said.
“And we would, too,” I said.
Virgil nodded again, looking at the dead men.
“They’re too dirty to make out how he killed them,” I said.
Virgil continued to nod.
“Guess we got to go get him,” Virgil said.
“Yep.”
“Got stuff to do in town,” Virgil said.
“I know.”
Virgil stared at the dead men.
“Got to go get him,” he said again.
Pike came out of the front door of the Palace and looked down at the dead men. Pony came out behind him.
“That fucking Indian,” he said.
“Which one?” Virgil said.
“Buffalo Calf,” Pike said.
“You know it’s him?” Virgil said.
“I know it’s him,” Pike said. “It’s always him, the fuck.”
“Always?” Virgil said.
“I know it’s him,” Pike said. “And I’m through with it. I’m going after him.”
“We’ll do that,” Virgil said.
“The hell you will,” Pike said. “The fucker didn’t kill two of your people.”
“We’ll go after him,” Virgil said.
“You can go with me, you want to,” Pike said, “or not, but I’m riding out of here in an hour with twenty men. And we’re going to bring him back in pieces. Nobody does that to me.”
“Do what you gotta do,” Virgil said. “Me and Everett are gonna need Pony.”
“Pony goes with me,” Pike said.
Virgil looked at Pony.
“I go with Virgil and Everett,” Pony said.
“You work for me, you half-breed cocksucker,” Pike said.
“No more,” Pony said.
“Fuck you, then,” Pike said. “I’ll track him myself.”
He turned and walked back into the Palace.
“Pike ain’t his usual jolly self,” I said.
“Twenty men,” Pony said. “Stampede. Be lucky he don’t kill them all.”
Virgil nodded, looking at the empty doorway where Pike had gone.
“Be lucky,” Virgil said.
45
WE SAT OUR HORSES on the other side of the ford and looked at the muddle of hoofprints that Pike and his posse had left. The pack mule took the opportunity to graze.
“Don’t make tracking the Indian so easy,” Virgil said.
“I find him,” Pony said.
“Pike will assume he’s running,” I said.
“Not running,” Pony said.
“He’ll shadow Pike,” Virgil said.
“If we’re right about him,” I said.
“So, we shadow Pike, we might come across him.”
“Might shadow us,” Pony said.
“He and Pike got a history,” Virgil said. “I ain’t saying he got no interest in us. But they got something between them.”
“Maybe get everybody,” Pony said.
“Might be his plan,” I said.
Virgil was looking at the tracks of twenty horses.
“Pike much of an Indian fighter, when you was with him?”
“Very good soldier,” Pony said. “Kill everybody.”
“And if Buffalo Calf wants to be tracked, Pike won’t have much trouble.”
“No track like me,” Pony said. “But can track. I teach him.”
“When you was soldiering, Everett, what you do with a troop of soldiers like this?”
“They’d be in squads,” I said. “Non com for each. I’d have scouts ahead, maybe some outriders to each flank.”
“Let’s follow along, see if he does that.”
“Think you can track them, Pony?”
“Little girl we save?” Pony said. “She could track them.”
“If we’re right,” Virgil said, “the Indian’s trying to lead Pike into a trap. Be better if we didn’t ride right into it behind them.”
“They rode out at sunup,” I said.
Virgil glanced at the sun.
“Got ’bout two hours on us,” he said.
He looked at the horizon in all directions.
“Land’s flat for a ways,” he said. “Don’t see no place he could hide and watch.”
“So Buffalo Calf has got to trust Pike to follow him,” I said, “until they get into country where Buffalo Calf can spy.”
“You know this country, Pony?” Virgil said.
“Some,” Pony said. “Northwest, maybe two days’ ride, country get rougher.”
“That where you’d go,” Virgil said, “you was gonna ambush somebody?”
“Yes,” Pony said.
Virgil looked at the sun again.
“We’ll follow them,” he said. “See if they turn that way.”
“And if they do?” I said.
“Maybe strike out on our own,” Virgil said.
He clucked to his horse. The mule heard him and pricked his ears forward and stopped grazing. We rode out after Pike, and the mule trotted on behind us. We all had .45 Winchesters, in the saddle boot, and we all wore .45 Colts. Made carrying cartridges easier. I had the eight-gauge. We all rode together. The mule could have followed Pike’s trail.
About midday we came to the place where they’d stopped and reorganized. We sat our horses while Pony rode around the area, looking at tracks.
“Okay,” Pony said. “He send scouts.”
He pointed out the tracks of two individual horses.
He rode around the area some more.
“Outriders,” he said, pointing.
“Okay,” I said. “He’s getting organized.”
“Good soldier,” Pony said. “Know how to fight.”
“Probably got them broken into squads now,” I said.
“No way to tell,” Pony said. “Horses all walk over each other tracks in troop.”
“He actually got twenty men?” Virgil said.
“Cannot tell,” Pony said. “Too many.”
“Let’s assume twenty,” I said. “He sent two scouts out front, and two flankers. Leaves sixteen. So he breaks the rest of them into three squads of five. And he makes sixteen.”
“All he needs is a damned guidon,” Virgil said.
“It’s the way he’s learned to fight,” I said.
“There’s enough of them to be stupid,” Virgil said.
“They figure Buffalo Calf won’t turn and fight them?” I said.
“Yep.”
“So they could ride right on into an ambush,” I said.
“Could,” Virgil said
“Maybe Buffalo Calf has some friends,” I said.
“None before,” Pony said.
“Any Comanche villages around?” Virgil said.
Pony shook his head.
“Mostly reservation Indians now,” Pony said.
“Don’t mean they always stay on the reservation,” Virgil said.
“Nope,” Pony said.
“You think he knows we’re out here?” I said to Pony.
“Probably think we with Pike,” Pony said. “Even mission-school Indian don’t understand white people much.”
“You understand white people?” I said.
“No,” Pony said.
His face was blank. I grinned at him.
“Well,” I said. “We ain’t typical, anyway.”
“Typical?” Pony said.
“Like everybody else,” I said.
“No,” Pony said. “You not like everybody.”
46
WE HAD A COLD CAMP that night, no fire, beef jerky and hard biscuits for supper, some whiskey to wash it down. In the morning, more biscuits and jerky, and some water from the canteen. Not long after sunrise, the tracks turned northwest.
“How far to this high ground you talking about,” Virgil said.
“Half day,” Pony said. “Less, if push horse.”
“Okay,” Virgil said. “Take a look, see how far he sends his outriders.”
Pony nodded and turned his horse and rode in a widening circle around the main tracks until he found the outriders. We sat our horses and waited.
“Both side,” Pony said, when he came back. “Maybe far as you shoot Colt.”
Virgil nodded.
“Want to get beyond the outriders,” he said.
Pony nodded.
“Tell me ’bout this high ground,” Virgil said.
“Start like short hill,” Pony said. “Go up.”
Pony made a steep gesture with his hand.
“Get to be like short mountain,” he said. “Many rocks. Many arroyo.”
“It’s straight northwest,” Virgil said, pointing in the direction the tracks took.
“Sí, jefe.”
“So we go straight north awhile,” Virgil said, “and turn straight left, we might come in behind the Indian.”
Pony nodded.
“What you think, Everett,” Virgil said.
“This is a smart Indian,” I said.
“We’re all smart,” Virgil said. “See who’s smarter.”
We turned north. We weren’t tracking now, so we could go hard.
“You know what we’re trying to do, Pony,” Virgil said. “Tell us when to turn west.”
We crossed the outriders’ tracks as we rode north, and went several miles beyond them. Then Pony turned his horse west, and we followed. In the late afternoon we saw the high ground in the distance stretching north. The flat land from which it rose was well to our south.
“Pretty good,” I said to Pony.
“Sí,” he said.
The going became harder as we went up the eastern slope of the hill. It was as Pony had said, full of rock outcroppings, laced with shale-sided arroyos. We went on up with Pony in the lead. He was leaning out of his saddle now, looking at the ground. I took the eight-gauge out of its scabbard and held it across my saddle. It was dark when we reached the top of the rise. There was no moon or stars. If there was anything to look at, it would have to wait until morning. Pony dismounted and walked ahead, leading his horse. We followed him, also leading the animals. In a while we came to the place Pony was looking for. A stream emerged from between two boulders and ran off downhill into the darkness.
“No fire,” Virgil said.
We let the animals drink. There wasn’t enough forage here, so we fed them some corn from a sack that the mule carried. We fed ourselves more jerky and biscuits. We drank a little whiskey, and decided who would take the first watch. It was Pony. Virgil and I wrapped ourselves in saddle blankets and went to sleep on the ground. About the time Pony woke me for my watch it had begun to rain. We wrapped ourselves in our slickers and hunched against the rock.
47
IT WAS STILL RAINING AND overc
ast in the morning, and much cooler than it had been. But in the gray light we could see the flat land to our southeast, and on it, in the distance, Pike’s posse. Virgil got a brass telescope from his saddlebag and gazed through it for a while.
“Christ, he brought everybody but the whores,” Virgil said.
He handed it to me.
“I count twenty,” I said.
Virgil nodded.
“You see the Indian?” he said to Pony.
Pony shook his head.
“This stream the only water around?” Virgil said.
“Yes,” Pony said.
“Horse got to drink,” Virgil said. “Him, too.”
“So if he’s camped here,” I said, “he’s probably beside the stream.”
Below us on the plain, Pike’s posse set out toward the hills. Virgil watched them for a little while. Then he put down the glass and glanced up at the dark sky and shrugged.
“Take ’em a while,” he said. “What’s down below.”
“Pass down there,” Pony said. “Halfway up hill, maybe. All rock. Hoofprints stop in there.”
“You think he’ll lead them in there?”
“He know Pike,” Pony said. “He know Pike not go in there.”
“Nobody would go in there,” I said.
“What’s he do if the trail leads in there, Captain?” Virgil said.
“He splits his troops,” I said. “And stays on the high ground, on each side.”
“And looks for the ambush,” Virgil said.
“Yep.”
“Indian know that?” Virgil said to Pony.
“If he ever fight soldiers,” Pony said.
“If he leads him in there,” Virgil said, “he gets Pike to split his posse, and half of them are on the wrong side of the canyon when the fight starts.”
Pony nodded.
“He that smart?” Virgil said.
“Smart Indian,” Pony said.
“Can anybody get across the pass?” Virgil said.
“Too wide to jump,” Pony said. “Too much straight up to climb.”
“So they can’t?”
“Nope.”
Brimstone Page 12
