“Judas,” he said.
Then he scrambled around and screamed at his deacons.
“Kill them. Kill all of them.”
The deacons didn’t have a chance. Abner killed two. Choctaw killed two. Pike killed three, and a half-dozen others went down, caught in the crossfire from both sides of the street, before the rest broke and ran. When it was over, Percival was still crouched in the street. The abandoned torches flickered and guttered out. The darkness closed in a little.
Pike looked down at him without speaking. Percival didn’t move. He stayed on his hands and knees, his head hanging. Pike climbed down from the porch and walked over to him and kicked him. Percival fell on his side and doubled over.
“You be outta this town before the sun comes up tomorrow,” Pike said. “Or I’ll kill you.”
Pike turned and walked back up onto the porch and across it and into his saloon. Percival remained curled up in the street.
On the porch Choctaw said in a voice meant to sound like Percival, “Choctaw, kill him.” Then he laughed and followed Pike inside.
Percival stayed lying in the street for a while, with his knees drawn up. Then he got to his hands and knees for a time, his head hanging. Then slowly he got to his feet, and stood and looked around. The street was empty except for me and Virgil and the dead bodies of Percival’s supporters. It must have looked even emp tier to Percival. If he saw us, he didn’t care. After a time he turned and began to trudge like a man exhausted down Arrow Street toward his church. Nothing else moved in the silent darkness.
“That it for the night?” I said to Virgil.
“Let’s watch a little longer,” Virgil said.
“For what?” I said.
Virgil shrugged.
“Percival’s crazy,” Virgil said.
“And we want to see how crazy,” I said.
“Don’t hurt to see,” Virgil said.
I nodded. We stood. Percival went into the church and closed the doors behind him. A coyote trotted out from one of the alleys and sniffed the corpses. Virgil shooed him away. The coyote slunk back into the alley, looking resentful. Time passes slowly when you are doing nothing in the dark. We stood for a long time, I think. But finally, there was a kind of explosion from the church, and flames burst out of the front door. By the time we got there the building was fully burning. We had to stop maybe twenty feet away, as the heat made a barrier we couldn’t penetrate. We heard a single gunshot from somewhere in the fire, and then nothing, except the sound of the fire as it consumed The Church of the Brotherhood and, probably, the dead body of its pastor.
62
THE DAY AFTER WAS BRIGHT and still. The volunteer fire brigade hadn’t been able to save the church, which Percival appeared to have soaked with coal oil, but there had been no wind, and they had managed to keep it from spreading. By the time Virgil and I had slept late and eaten breakfast, and had gone to survey things, Arrow Street had been cleaned up. The undertaker had done his job. The corpses were gone and there was nothing to see but the charred ruins of the church, from which, here and there, some smoke still rose. The remnants of Brother Percival were probably in there somewhere, but no one seemed interested in looking.
“Well,” Virgil said, “let’s go visit Pike. See how part two is going to play.”
“No reason to wait,” I said.
“None,” Virgil said.
We walked up to the Palace and went in. Choctaw was in the lookout chair, and Pike was having a later breakfast than we had, sitting near the bar. I stood against the wall with the eight-gauge where I could look at Choctaw and he could look at me. Virgil walked over to Pike.
“Virgil,” Pike said. “Pull up a chair, my friend.”
Virgil sat.
“Coffee?” Pike said
“Sure.”
Pike gestured, and one of the bartenders brought coffee.
“You saw it all last night,” Pike said.
“I did,” Virgil said. “Me ’n Everett.”
“So you know they attacked us,” Pike said.
“Yep.”
“Got a right to defend myself,” Pike said.
Virgil nodded.
“Ain’t mourning Percival,” Virgil said.
Pike nodded and ate half a biscuit.
“Glad he done it himself,” Pike said. “Otherwise, sooner or later, I was gonna have to do it.”
“Worked out for you,” Virgil said. “You pretty much got the town now.”
Pike nodded and leaned back and sipped some coffee.
“Pretty much,” he said after he swallowed.
“ ’Cept for me ’n Everett,” Virgil said.
“ ’Cept for that,” Pike said.
Virgil smiled. Pike smiled back. Choctaw was trying to keep an eye on me, and one on Virgil, which was hard because we were spread out. Which was why we were spread out.
“Wasn’t gonna talk with you ’bout that quite so soon,” Pike said. “But since it’s come up . . . ?”
He shrugged.
Virgil shrugged back.
“I like you, Virgil,” Pike said. “I really do.”
“Everybody does,” Virgil said.
Pike looked into his coffee cup for a while. Then he raised his eyes and looked at Virgil.
“I don’t see how it’s gonna work between us here,” Pike said. “I don’t see how you gonna let me run the town the way I want to.”
“Don’t see that myself,” Virgil said.
“We ain’t broke no law,” Pike said.
“Might be able to find one,” Virgil said.
“There’s two of you,” Pike said. “And there’s twenty-five of us.”
“ ’Course, none of you is Virgil Cole,” Virgil said. “Or Everett Hitch.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Pike said. “But it’s still twenty-five to two. And you got them women to think about.”
“Good point,” Virgil said. “You got a suggestion?”
“You could stop being deputies and work for me.”
“Nope.”
Pike nodded.
“Okay,” he said. “I figured that you wouldn’t. But you still got them women to think about. How about I give you some money? Enough to take care of them for a good while? I ain’t even giving it to you. I’m giving it to you for them.”
“What’s the other option?” Virgil said.
“We gonna have to kill you and probably them,” Pike said.
“Or at least try,” Virgil said.
“I like our odds,” Pike said. “And, God’s honest truth, I think I can beat you.”
Virgil was quiet, thinking about things. I knew Virgil didn’t care if Pike thought he could beat him. Virgil paid no mind to talk.
After a time, he said, “Makes sense. I’ll take the money . . . long as it is commensurate.”
“And leave town?”
“And leave town,” Virgil said.
“Your word?” Pike said.
“Yep.”
Pike looked at me.
“Everett?” he said.
“I’m with Virgil,” I said.
“Wait right there,” Pike said.
He stood and went into the back of the saloon. He was gone for maybe ten minutes, and when he returned he had a leather-bound canvas satchel.
“One thousand dollars,” he said. “Legal tender notes.”
“Done,” Virgil said.
He picked up the satchel and nodded at me, and we walked out of Pike’s Palace.
63
“VIRGIL,” I said, as we walked up Arrow Street, “what the fuck are we doing?”
“We’re being tricky,” Virgil said.
“We never took a bribe in our life,” I said.
“Nor run away,” Virgil said.
“So . . . ?” I said.
“We ain’t going,” Virgil said.
“We’re not?”
“Nope.”
“We’re going to double-cross Pike?”
“We are,” Virgil said.<
br />
“What about the bribe?”
“Laurel needs money,” Virgil said. “Pike don’t.”
“You think Pike will see it that way?” I said.
“No.”
“We gonna pretend to go?” I said.
“Yep.”
“What about the women,” I said.
“It was only Allie,” Virgil said. “Maybe I say she’s a grown woman. She cast her lot with me. She knows what I do. . . . But the kid didn’t get to cast her lot at all. It got cast for her. . . . And she ain’t got no one else.”
“And Pike would use them against us.”
“ ’Course he would,” Virgil said. “You heard him.”
I nodded.
“As I recall,” I said, “Pike told us, ‘You got them women to worry about.’ ”
“What I recall, too,” Virgil said. “We stay, we’ll be spending all our time protecting them. He needs to think they gone.”
“So where we going to hide them,” I said.
“Ain’t figured that part out yet,” Virgil said.
“What happens to them if we get killed?” I said.
“I thought ’bout that,” Virgil said.
“And?”
“I can’t worry ’bout that,” he said. “I can’t not be Virgil Cole.”
“No,” I said. “You can’t.”
Virgil grinned at me.
“ ’ Sides, we ain’t never been killed yet,” he said.
“Commensurate,” I said, “with who we are.”
“Commensurate,” Virgil said.
“What about Pony?” I said.
“I’d guess he’ll be with us,” Virgil said.
“Maybe he could take the ladies someplace,” I said.
Virgil nodded. We turned off of Arrow Street and walked toward where we’d been staying. Pony was on a bench on the front porch with Laurel beside him, and Allie was in a rocker, trying to sew a button on one of Virgil’s shirts.
Virgil set the canvas satchel down and took a seat. I remained standing, leaning against one of the porch pillars. Virgil opened the satchel.
“Best thing I got to tell you is we got some money,” he said.
64
EVERYONE WAS QUIET while Virgil explained the situation.
When he was through, Allie said, “So why don’t we all go? Find another town? Start over?”
“Can’t do that,” Virgil said.
“Why not? Not even you and Everett can fight Pike by yourselves. I mean, my God, he must have fifty men.”
“Twenty-five,” Virgil said.
“You want to stay and fight twenty-five men by yourself?”
“Me and Everett,” Virgil said.
“Why? I mean, I know that you’re Virgil Cole and all that. But why risk all our lives for it.”
Virgil shook his head and didn’t say anything.
“He run away,” Pony said. “He man who run away.”
Allie frowned, staring at Pony, then at Virgil, as if she were working on a puzzle. Then she nodded slowly.
“Yes,” she said.
“Here’s what I been thinking,” Virgil said. “We go down to the station in the morning. The four of us, and get on the train to Del Rio. We get out from town maybe five miles, that straight patch of the river where the train runs right along the bank. Pony’s there with an extra horse. I get the train to stop. Me and Everett get off. Pony gets on. We ride back into town, sorta light-footed. Pony goes on to Del Rio. I’ll write you a letter to give to Dave Morrissey down there, help you get settled. Then me and Everett will take care of business and come on down to join you.”
“No,” Allie said.
Virgil looked startled, which was an amazing thing to see, because Virgil never looked startled.
“No?” he said.
“Absolutely not,” Allie said. “I won’t leave you, and neither will Laurel.”
Virgil looked at Laurel.
Laurel shook her head.
“Why not?” Virgil said.
“I won’t,” Allie said.
“Why not?” Virgil said.
“I’m a mess,” Allie said. “I been a mess long as you’ve known me. But I got this child to think ’bout now, and I can’t keep being a mess.”
Virgil looked at her and didn’t answer. Virgil never looked puzzled, any more than he ever looked startled, but if he had he would have looked puzzled now.
“What kind of woman would leave her man at a time like this, to go hide, while he risked his life?”
Virgil shrugged and looked at me. I shrugged.
“That’s right,” she said, as if we had answered. “And I will not be that kind of woman anymore, not ever, anymore. I cannot be that kind of woman and be with this child . . . or you.”
Virgil looked at me again.
“Sounds right to me,” I said.
Virgil nodded.
“And I don’t want Pony taking care of us,” Allie said. “I want Pony to be with you.”
“Who looks out for you and Laurel?” Virgil said.
“Me,” Allie said.
“You?”
“I have a gun; I know how to shoot,” Allie said. “You taught me.”
Laurel stepped to Virgil’s chair and whispered to him. He listened. He nodded.
“Okay,” he said. “We don’t go to Del Rio.”
“We can pretend to,” I said.
“And where do Allie and Laurel go?” Virgil said. “Ain’t good tactics to leave them out for Pike.”
“No,” I said. “We need to hide them.”
“Where?” Virgil said.
No one spoke for a moment, and then I said, “Lemme go talk to my friend Frisco.”
“The whore?”
“Yes,” I said.
“In Pike’s Palace?” Virgil said.
“Where would he be less likely to look?” I said.
“I’ll be back in an hour or so,” I said.
“Take you that long?” Virgil said.
“No,” I said. “But I might have to wait my turn.”
Allie smiled at me.
“Not if I was Frisco,” she said.
I said, “Thank you, Allie.”
And I stood and walked back up toward Pike’s Palace.
65
FRISCO’S ROOM AND PLACE of employment was on the second floor at Pike’s. But I went boldly in. I had till morning to leave town.
“Come for a good-bye poke,” Frisco said when she let me in.
“Good-bye?” I said.
Frisco closed the door and locked it. We sat on her bed together.
“Heard you was leaving town tomorrow,” she said.
“Word gets around,” I said.
“Pike’s telling everybody he run you and Virgil Cole out of town,” she said.
“Proud of himself,” I said.
“Yes,” Frisco said.
She was wearing a short, thin nightgown and not much else.
“Before we get into farewells,” I said, “I need a favor.”
“You know me, Everett,” Frisco said. “I only do the regular things. I don’t do no specialties.”
“None needed,” I said. “I need to hide two women here, in this room, for a few hours tomorrow.”
“Two women?”
“Yep.”
“The ones with you and Virgil?” she said. “Allie and the kid, the one the Indian took?”
“Yes,” I said.
I had no problem lying to her, but who else would it be?
“Her mother, what was her name?”
“Mary Beth,” I said. “Mary Beth Ostermueller.”
“Yeah, her,” Frisco said. “Killed herself two rooms down from here. Drunk, put a forty-five in her mouth and blew the top of her head off.”
“I know,” I said.
“Awful mess,” Frisco said. “Pike was furious, but she was already dead, you know, so he couldn’t kill her. Took a couple days to get that room cleaned up.”
“Forty-five can ma
ke a big exit hole,” I said.
“I guess,” Frisco said. “Why’d she do that, anyway?”
“Life was too hard, I guess.”
“That hard?”
“She and her daughter had a bad time of it, ’fore we got them back.”
“Daughter didn’t kill herself.”
“No,” I said. “I think having her daughter watch what happened to her, and her having to watch while it happened to her daughter, right in front of her . . .”
Frisco nodded.
“Woman needed to be tougher,” Frisco said.
“She did,” I said. “And she wasn’t.”
“I take these two women in here,” Frisco said, “and Pike finds out, what happens?”
“He’ll kill them,” I said. “And you.”
“So why should I take the chance?” Frisco said.
“ ’Cause we plan to kill him,” I said. “ ’Fore he finds out.”
Frisco nodded.
“They can stay here; I’ll move down with Big Red,” she said. “You don’t kill him, I’ll claim I don’t know how they got in here, but I come back and found the door locked and figured one of the other girls was using the room for business.”
“Might work,” I said.
“When they coming?”
“Tomorrow morning,” I said. “You know Pony Flores?”
“No.”
“Breed,” I said. “Dark, kind of tall, works some for Pike.”
“Tall as you?”
“Nope,” I said. “More like Virgil.”
“High moccasins, knife in the top?” Frisco said.
“That’s him,” I said. “He’ll bring them in the morning.”
“Ain’t normally very busy in the morning. They come in; I go out.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Frisco leaned her head against my shoulder.
“I’ll miss you,” she said. “You’re a good guy.”
“You too,” I said.
“Want to do it ’fore you go?” she said.
“I would,” I said.
Frisco grinned and patted my crotch.
“I could tell,” she said.
66
IN THE MORNING, Virgil and I walked with Allie and Laurel down to the train station and got aboard the nine-o’clock train to Del Rio. Allie carried a carpetbag. Virgil and I just had weapons and ammunition. The train left the station on time, and when we were under way, Virgil got up and spoke with the conductor. The conductor shook his head and Virgil tapped the deputy star on his shirt and spoke again. The conductor looked at us and paused, then nodded, and moved on, toward the front of the train.
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