Brimstone vcaeh-3

by Robert B. Parker

  I looked at Laurel and put my fingers in my ears. She dropped her head, and in a moment, put her fingers in her ears, and looked cautiously up to see if I was looking. I smiled at her. She didn’t smile back, but she didn’t look away.

  People stopped as they passed her and listened. I suspected it was in disbelief. Between hymns she climbed down with a collection plate and passed it among them. If they gave her anything she would say, “God bless you.” Then she climbed back up on the wagon and played some more and sang some more. I couldn’t tell if it was the same hymns or new ones. They were loud but unvaried. After a while, when no more people came to the wagon, she loosed the team from its hitching post, got back in the wagon seat, waved at us across the street, and drove to a new location.

  “You think she believes all this stuff?” I said to Virgil.

  “I never quite understood Allie,” Virgil said.

  “And now you do?” I said.

  “I been thinking ’bout it ever since we took her out of Placido,” Virgil said.

  Laurel was sitting very still and very erect, watching Virgil’s face as he talked.

  “Always loved her, even when she cheated on me, which, certain sure, she’s done a lot of,” Virgil said. “Still love her. Don’t know why. What I read, I guess that’s how it is. You love somebody, you love ’em.”

  Laurel was staring at him.

  “ ’Course, I was mad at her a lot,” he said. “You know anything ’bout that, Everett?”

  “Never been in love,” I said. “Liked a lot of women. Never loved one.”

  “That’s too bad,” Virgil said. “When it’s right, it feels real good.”

  “Feel right often?” I said.

  “Not too often with Allie,” Virgil said. “But…”

  Laurel had probably never heard a man talk about such things in her whole life. Virgil didn’t talk about feelings much, because I’m not so sure he had many. But when he cared to, he would talk about anything he felt like talking about. Laurel seemed immobilized, listening to him.

  “One of the things I come to see,” Virgil said, “is that Allie believes whatever she needs to believe. And when she don’t need to, she believes something else.”

  I nodded.

  “She needs a man taking care of her,” I said.

  “Yep.”

  “You ain’t it,” I said.

  “I’m taking care of her,” Virgil said. “Just not…”

  He looked at Laurel.

  “You know,” he said.

  “Which means she can’t trust you to take care of her.”

  “Sure she can.”

  “But she don’t know it, ’less you and she are, ah, taking care of business, she don’t feel like she got any control.”

  “Maybe so,” Virgil said.

  “Ain’t you, it may as well be God, I guess.”

  “Yep.”

  Laurel leaned close to Virgil and whispered to him. He listened and nodded. Then he looked at me.

  “Laurel told me she understands what we’re talking about, and she don’t mind if we say fuck when we need to.” Virgil’s face showed nothing as he spoke.

  I nodded.

  “Thank you, Laurel,” I said.

  54

  IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON. I came back from my turn walking the town and found Allie in the office with Virgil. Laurel sat on the couch silently. Virgil sat at his desk. Allie was on the couch next to Laurel, leaning forward, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

  “Want me to come back?” I said.

  Virgil shook his head and pointed at a chair. I sat.

  “I wanted to tell her here, with you,” Allie said to Virgil.

  Virgil nodded.

  “I just found out,” Allie said.

  Virgil nodded.

  “Laurel’s mother killed herself last night,” Allie said.

  She put her hand on Laurel’s knee. Laurel didn’t move. She was looking hard at Virgil. Virgil stood and walked to the couch. He gestured for Allie to sit at his desk, and when she stood he took her place beside Laurel. Laurel edged slightly toward him and let her shoulder touch his.

  “I’m sorry,” Virgil said to her.

  She nodded.

  “But your life ain’t gonna change much,” Virgil said. “You been with us, and you’ll be with us. We’ll take care of you.”

  She nodded. Her face had not changed. She remained motionless. Then she leaned toward Virgil and whispered to him. He listened. Then he nodded.

  “Probably is,” he said.

  “I got something else I got to do, Virgil,” Allie said.

  Virgil nodded.

  “I got to tell you things,” Allie said.

  Virgil nodded again.

  “If we going to take care of this child, I got to start clean for her,” Allie said.

  Virgil waited.

  “Brother Percival is in cahoots with Pike,” Allie said.

  Virgil nodded.

  “Pike agreed to let him have his crusade if he closed down the other saloons and not Pike’s,” Allie said.

  Virgil nodded.

  “Then Pike gets all the saloon profit in town,” Allie said. “And Brother Percival’s church gets to be bigger and bigger.”

  “Kinda figured a lot of that,” Virgil said.

  “But it’s changed,” Allie said. “Percival is going to close down Pike.”

  All of us were silent for a time.

  Then Virgil said, “How do you know?”

  “That’s the shameful part, Virgil,” Allie said. “I been with him. Even after he bothered this child, I been with him.”

  “I kinda knew that, too, Allie,” Virgil said.

  “How’d you know that?” Allie said.

  Virgil didn’t answer.

  “Percival would be with me and he would drink and he would tell me things,” Allie said. “He’s crazy, Virgil. I think he actually thinks he’s God.”

  “Probably ain’t,” Virgil said.

  Allie went on, in a kind of rush.

  “He says he gets Pike outta the way… and you and Everett… says he will turn the town into a new Bethlehem.”

  “He think Pike’s going to go along with this?” Virgil said.

  “No,” Allie said. “He knows there’ll be a fight. He sent Choctaw Brown out to hire more deacons.”

  “He thinks Choctaw’s with him on this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Choctaw’s with Pike,” Virgil said.

  “How do you know?” Allie said.

  Virgil shook his head and didn’t answer.

  “I had to tell you,” Allie said. “I knew I’d have to say I was with Percival, but you had to know. He said he was going to get rid of you, too. I couldn’t let that happen.”

  “No,” Virgil said.

  He looked at Laurel.

  “I am hard to get rid of,” he said. “You shouldn’t worry about it.”

  She whispered in his ear.

  “Me ’n Everett,” Virgil said. “Like always.”

  She whispered to him again. He listened and nodded slowly.

  “Good idea,” he said. “Everett, see if you can find Pony Flores, if you would.”

  Which I did.

  55

  “GOT REASON TO THINK there’ll be trouble between Percival and Pike,” Virgil said to Pony.

  “Sí,” Pony said.

  “I think Pike will chew Percival up and spit him out,” Virgil said.

  “Sí,” Pony said.

  “But before he does,” Virgil said, “Everett and me may be in the middle of it.”

  Pony nodded.

  “Where do you stand?” Virgil said.

  Pony pointed at Virgil.

  “Okay,” Virgil said. “Ball goes up, somebody gotta be looking out for Laurel.”

  Pony nodded and pointed at his chest.

  “You all right with Pony?” Virgil said to Laurel.

  She nodded slowly.

  “Might keep an eye on Allie, too,” Virg
il said.

  “Like mother chicken,” Pony said.

  “How come you’re not sticking with Pike?” I said.

  Pony nodded at Laurel.

  “Chiquita,” he said.

  I nodded.

  “You know anything ’bout all this?” Virgil said.

  “Pike know ’bout Percival,” Pony said.

  “Choctaw?” I said.

  “Everybody know Choctaw work for Pike,” Pony said.

  “ ’Cept Percival,” Virgil said.

  “Percival crazy,” Pony said.

  “Pike knows that, too?” Virgil said.

  “Everybody know that, too.”

  “ ’Cept Percival,” Virgil said.

  “Pike say he don’t mind if you boys get killed, either,” Pony said.

  “Be his town then,” I said. “You think Pike got the outfit to do the job?”

  “Percival? Sure,” Pony said. “You boys and me?” He grinned and shook his head.

  “ ’ Less he’s hiring some new boys,” I said. “Choctaw’s the best he’s got.”

  “Choctaw’s good,” Virgil said.

  “Good as you?” I said.

  Virgil said, “Subject to proof.”

  “Pike the best,” Pony said.

  “Might be,” Virgil said.

  “Is,” Pony said. “Seen him.”

  “Maybe we’ll find out,” Virgil said.

  “Pike said he was gonna kill you,” Allie said.

  Her voice seemed hoarse and small, as if she were forcing it out through a narrow opening.

  We all looked at her.

  “Who’d he say that to?” Virgil asked her.

  “Me,” she said. “Men tend to brag when… you know.”

  Virgil stared at her as if he were startled. Which wasn’t possible, because Virgil Cole was never startled.

  “Allie,” he said. “ ’Stead of telling me who you been with, be easier if you gave me a short list of men you haven’t.”

  “Wasn’t with him often,” Allie said. “Percival used to give me to him once in a while when he’d come over, and they’d be drinking.”

  Virgil stood and walked to the office door and looked out at the street for a while. Laurel watched him closely.

  Without taking his eyes off the street, Virgil said, “We got to go over this, Allie, all of it, you, me, Laurel. But now ain’t the time.”

  He turned slowly from the door and looked at Allie.

  “Right now you got one thing to do. You look out for Laurel. You and Pony. You do what Pony says and you don’t ask questions and you don’t think. You do what he says.”

  “I am trying to help, Virgil, honest to God. I’m a different woman. I only want to help.”

  “You hear what I told you,” Virgil said.

  “Yes.”

  Virgil walked back and sat beside Laurel again.

  “You too, Laurel,” he said. “When it all starts, you do what Pony says, just like it was me.”

  She nodded.

  “Can you talk with him?” Virgil said.

  She shook her head.

  “Okay,” Virgil said. “Pony ain’t much of a talker, anyway.”

  56

  VIRGIL WAS A BEAR on exercising the horses. Most days we’d ride at least one town patrol on them, and every couple of days we’d take them out and breeze them along the river. This day, as we rode back toward town, Virgil reined in for a moment and sat looking across the river where we’d first seen the Indian.

  “Wonder what it was,” Virgil said. “ ’Tween that Indian and Pike.”

  “Something that mattered,” I said. “He wanted to do more than just kill him.”

  Virgil nodded.

  “Thinking about it,” Virgil said, “I figure them arrows was all for Pike.”

  “Yep.”

  “Means Pike knew who it was all the time,” Virgil said. “Since they found that steer.”

  “Yep.”

  “Mighta helped if he told us,” Virgil said.

  “Would,” I said.

  We moved the horses forward, letting them walk now, taking our time.

  “Think it’ll go like Allie told us?” I said.

  “You know Pike,” Virgil said. “You know Percival. Whadda you think?”

  “It’ll go like Allie told us.”

  Virgil nodded.

  “Be nice if they wiped each other out,” I said.

  “Be nice,” Virgil said.

  “How we going to play it?” I said.

  “Stay out of the way,” Virgil said. “Contain it. When one side wins, we deal with them.”

  “What you gonna do about Allie?” I said.

  “Don’t know about Allie,” Virgil said.

  “Hell,” I said. “Allie don’t know about Allie.”

  “Probably not,” Virgil said. “But I know we can’t raise no fifteen-year-old girl without a woman.”

  “Don’t have to be Allie,” I said.

  “Got no better choice at the moment,” Virgil said.

  “No,” I said. “We don’t.”

  The horses took us slowly back into town, and on down Arrow Street toward the livery stable. The town seemed like it always did. Busy. Lotta people on the street. Kinda prosperous. The Church of the Brotherhood was closed and silent. No organ music. Allie wasn’t playing there anymore. At Pike’s Palace, several of his associates were lingering outside on the porch, wearing sidearms.

  We left the horses at the stable and walked to the office. We dipped some water from the barrel, and drank, and sat on the front porch and looked at things.

  “So we sit and await developments?” I said.

  “Nope,” Virgil said. “I think we go right at ’em.”

  “Good,” I said. “I hate awaiting developments.”

  57

  THERE WAS A NEW LOOKOUT at Pike’s Palace, a tall, thin guy with striped pants and a shotgun on his lap. I went and stood against the wall near him with the eight-gauge while Virgil went to talk with Pike at the bar. The lookout wasn’t happy about me standing there. He looked at Pike. Pike shrugged faintly, and the lookout settled back.

  “Why the heavy ordnance, Virgil,” Pike said.

  “Oh, Everett’s forgetful,” Virgil said. “Afraid if he lays that thing down, he’ll forget where he put it.”

  “Beer?” Pike said.

  “Sure thing,” Virgil said.

  Pike looked at me. I shook my head. The bartender set a beer in front of Virgil, and one for Pike.

  “This a social call?” Pike said.

  Virgil sipped his beer and put it down.

  “Chance for a free beer, mostly,” Virgil said.

  “Anytime, Virgil,” Pike said.

  He was wearing a dark suit and a red tie, and carried a Colt.

  “Who’s the new lookout,” Virgil said.

  “Abner Noonan,” Pike said. “Was with me in the Army.”

  “Hearda him,” Virgil said. “Was in Laredo for a while.”

  “Good memory,” Pike said. “Yep, that’s Abner.”

  “Replacing Kirby and J.D.,” Virgil said.

  “Yes,” Pike said.

  Virgil looked absently around the room.

  “Got some other new faces,” Virgil said.

  Pike grinned.

  “Just keeping the staff up to level,” he said.

  “Too bad ’bout Kirby and J.D.,” Virgil said.

  “Was,” Pike said.

  “You know, Pike,” Virgil said. “I was thinking ’bout that Indian killed them.”

  I smiled to myself. Virgil could be as direct as anyone alive, or he could, for his own reasons, go around the Gulf of Mexico and come in the back way when he felt like it. This was going to be the back way.

  “What were you thinking?” Pike said.

  “What was that boy’s name,” Virgil said. “Buffalo Calf.”

  “They all got names,” Pike said.

  “Well, you know, it don’t matter,” Virgil said. “But there musta been
something between you two.”

  “Me and the Indian?” Pike said. “Why do you care?”

  “Just a curious fella,” Virgil said. “Hate to know half a thing. I know it don’t matter, and it ain’t official or anything, and Buffalo Calf been disposed of. But… I keep thinking on it.”

  Pike grinned.

  “Like an itch you can’t scratch,” Pike said.

  “That’s what it’s like,” Virgil said.

  He sipped some more beer.

  “Oh, hell, Virgil,” Pike said. “I was a lieutenant trying to make captain. Everett over there probably knows what that’s like.”

  “I do,” I said. “One reason I quit.”

  “I had a patrol out, me, a sergeant, and twelve troopers. Caught some Apaches out in the open. They were moving camp, had stuff on travois, mostly women and children, a few bucks, and we cleaned them out. We were still using the breech loaders, and it was slow, so I told the troopers to use their sabers. It was a bloody mess, but it went faster and we killed them all.”

  Pike drank some beer.

  “So I’m surveying the mess.” Pike grinned. “And thinking about my second bar, and something hits me on the shoulder and falls to the ground. I look and it’s a toy arrow, and another one hits me, and I see this little Indian kid, maybe nine, ten, covered with blood, kneeling behind some dead squaw, shooting at me with his toy bow and arrow. One of the troopers goes and grabs him and is gonna cut his throat, and the little bastard was so mean and so brave, I say, ‘Don’t kill him.’ Sergeant looks at me like I’m crazy, but we drag him along with us back to Tucson, and I put him into the Indian school there. All the ride back to Tucson, he looks at me, and when I checked on him every once in a while at the school, he don’t say nothing, just looks at me. Does good at the school. Speaks English good, read, write, all that shit. And the day he’s eighteen he’s gone and no one sees him again. Then ten years later, that steer shows up dead with the toy arrow.”

  “That why you gave us Pony to track?”

  “Felt bad ’bout them women,” Pike said. “Sorta felt a little responsible, I suppose.”

  “Sure,” Virgil said.

  “Last break I ever gave anybody,” Pike said. “And that was one too many.”

  “Thank you, Pike,” Virgil said. “I’ll sleep better.”

  “Sure thing,” Pike said.