“Yes.”
“How’s he feel ’bout that?” Virgil said.
“He thinks he deserved it,” Beth said. “For beating me up and everything. Swears that he’s a changed man now. Swears that he’ll never hit me again.”
I knew Virgil would not ask, so I did.
“You and him back together, then?” I said.
“Yes.”
She looked sideways at Virgil. Virgil nodded.
“I’m sorry, Virgil,” she said. “You’ve been a good friend.”
“Perfectly fine,” Virgil said.
No one spoke. The nondescript plow horse was scratching the underside of his jaw on the hitching rail. We all watched him.
Then Virgil said, “You got something else, Beth.”
She nodded.
“I . . .” She stopped and then tried again. “I . . .”
She stopped and looked wordlessly at Virgil.
“You want us to help you,” Virgil said.
“Help him,” she said. “Help the men. Don’t run them off, no matter what Wolfson says.”
Virgil nodded.
“Can you do that for me?” Beth said.
Virgil didn’t speak for a while. I waited. Beth waited.
Then he said, “I won’t run them off.”
Beth looked at me.
“Mr. Hitch?”
“Everett,” I said.
“Will you run them off, Everett?” she said.
“No,” I said. “I’m with Virgil.”
“What about the other two,” she said.
Now that it was out, she was emptying the pitcher.
“I’ll talk to them,” Virgil said.
“Will they listen to you?”
“Yes,” Virgil said.
“And Mr. Wolfson, what will he do?” she said.
“Hire other people,” Virgil said.
“And what will you do then?” Beth said.
It was out, and we were all looking at it. None of us said anything for a time.
Finally, Virgil said, “Step at a time, Beth. Step at a time.”
55.
Wolfson got ahead of us. He came back from his travels with a big-bodied, dark-haired man named Major Lujack.
“Major Lujack is the head of Lujack Detective Agency in Wichita,” Wolfson said. “And a retired Cavalry officer.”
“Battle of Muddy River?” I said.
Lujack looked at me and nodded.
“You’ve heard of Major Lujack?” Wolfson said.
“Slaughtered a camp full of Comanche women and children, ” I said. “In eastern Colorado. While back. Got a medal for it, and was discharged two weeks later.”
“Everett’s retired Army, too,” Virgil said.
“It was an honorable discharge,” Lujack said.
“Army covered it up,” I said. “Made it sound like a battle. But they got rid of you.”
“Who’s this?” Virgil said.
He was looking at a willowy, round-faced, sloe-eyed man with a flat crowned hat and striped pants, who was standing next to Lujack.
“My assistant,” Lujack said. “Mr. Swann.”
“I’m Mr. Cole,” Virgil said. “This is Mr. Hitch.”
Swann nodded.
“Major Lujack is here to help us with the settlers and all,” Wolfson said. “The rest of his people will be arriving soon.”
Both Lujack and Swann wore guns. They seemed comfortable with them.
“How many,” Virgil said.
“Three squads of five men and a squad leader,” Lujack said.
“Plus you and Mr. Swann,” Virgil said. “So twenty.”
“Yes,” Lujack said.
Virgil was looking at Swann. Swann was looking back at Virgil.
“You fellas have had a long ride,” Wolfson said. “Lemme show you your rooms.”
“Certainly,” Lujack said.
He looked at me. Swann looked hard at Virgil. Then they turned and followed Wolfson.
“Whaddya know about Lujack?” Virgil said.
“He’s a butcher,” I said.
“Why’d he do it?”
“Don’t know,” I said. “Don’t know why he even attacked them. There wasn’t a warrior within fifty miles.”
“And the Army gave him the boot?”
“Yeah. Some of his command had refused to keep up the killing once they realized they weren’t fighting men. Afterwards, he was in the process of court-martialing them.”
“Insubordination?” Virgil said.
I grinned.
“Desertion,” I said. “In the face of the enemy.”
“Even the Army couldn’t stomach it,” Virgil said.
“That’s right,” I said. “They called it a victory, promoted him to major, cancelled the court-martial process, and gave him an honorable discharge.”
“Three squads,” Virgil said. “Each with a squad leader.”
“Plus Lujack and Swann,” I said. “You know anything ’bout Mr. Swann.”
“Pretty much all I need to,” Virgil said.
“Ever hear of him?” I said.
“Nope,” Virgil said.
“But you know what he is,” I said.
“I do,” Virgil said. “You?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I know what he is.”
“Might be we’re being replaced,” Virgil said.
“Do look kind of suspicious,” I said. “How ’bout Cato and Rose.”
“Days are numbered,” Virgil said. “But Wolfson’ll wait until all the squads arrive. Case we resent it.”
“We gonna resent it?” I said.
“Hell, no,” Virgil said. “Makes it easier to change sides.”
56.
The squads drifted into town over the next few days, set up tents, and dug latrines out back of the hotel. A lot of them appeared to be ex-soldiers. No one was in uniform. But there was a military tone to things, and everyone wore badges that said Lujack Detective.
“Heard about Lujack,” Frank Rose was saying. “Offered me a job once.”
“Think he remembers?” I said.
“Hell no,” Rose said. “I never talked with him. His bitch buddy does most of the early hiring work.”
“Swann?”
“Yep. And Lujack makes the final call.”
“And you didn’t get that far?” I said.
“Did,” Rose said. “But I didn’t like Swann. So I never showed up for Lujack.”
“How’s he work?” Virgil said.
“Pretends he’s still a major,” Rose said. “Runs things like a military unit. Chain of command, all that shit.”
“Ah, yes,” I said. “One of the many reasons I left.”
“Got a lot of bad, mean people working for him,” Rose said. “And he keeps them in line.”
“They good?” Virgil said.
“Yeah,” Rose said. “Lujack don’t hire no virgins. They know what they’re doing and they’re willin’ to do it.”
“Puts them ahead of the collection of gasbags,” I said, “that Wolfson brought in before.”
“The way it works,” Rose said, “you hire Lujack. Lujack hires everybody else.”
“And pays them,” Virgil said.
“Yep. You pay Lujack,” Rose said. “Lujack pays them.”
“So their loyalty is always to Lujack,” I said.
“Yep.”
“Look at the Winchesters,” I said.
“What about them.”
There were three pyramid-shaped clusters of rifles.
“They’ve stacked arms for each squad,” I said.
“One stack per squad,” Rose said.
We all looked at the rifles. We all smiled.
“See that fella there,” Cato said, “with the big yella mustache? And the black handle Colt? Saw him kill three men in Ellsworth. They had words in the street.”
Cato gestured as if shooting.
“Bang, bang, bang,” he said. “One bullet each.”
And made a falling gesture with both hands.<
br />
“Hope the words mattered,” Rose said.
“Don’t matter much anymore,” Cato said.
It might have been the most I’d heard him talk since he’d arrived.
“Figure they’ll get through setting up today?” I said.
“Sure,” Rose said. “Hell, they’re almost there now.”
“So you think Wolfson’ll fire us tonight?” I said.
Rose shrugged.
"If he brings them all in for a meetin’,” Virgil said. “You’ll know.”
57.
Wolfson had his meeting. He sat at a back table in the Blackfoot, with Swann on one side of him and Lujack on the other. The three squads stood against the wall on either side of the room.
“Boys,” Wolfson said to the four of us standing in front of the table. “We’re gonna have to make a change.”
None of us spoke.
“You boys done a fine job keepin’ the peace here in Resolution, ” Wolfson said. “But we all knew it was only temporary, and, well, now we got what you might call permanent cadre here, and there just ain’t no need for you fellas.”
“Don’t fuck with it, Wolfson,” Virgil said. “Just fire us.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want you to think of it as getting fired,” Wolfson said. “I like you boys. It’s just that you, ah, served your term, you know?”
Cato Tillson looked slowly around the room, snorted silently to himself, and walked out. Wolfson watched him and didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he refocused on the rest of us.
“I’ve asked Major Lujack to be town marshal,” Wolfson said.
“With nineteen deputies,” Rose said.
“Exactly.”
“I figure you owe me four days’ pay,” Rose said.
“I do,” Wolfson said. “And I’m happy to give all of you what I owe you. And room and board through the end of the week . . . plus a nice bonus for the job you did.”
“When do I get the money?” Rose said.
“Tomorrow. See Hensdale anytime tomorrow,” Wolfson said. “All of you.”
“I will,” Rose said, and headed for the door.
Wolfson looked at Virgil and me.
“You boys been with me the longest,” Wolfson said. “And I want to thank you both special.”
“Amos,” I said, “I’m too old to listen to horseshit. I’ll stop by and see Hensdale.”
“Well, just so there’s no hard feelings,” Wolfson said.
“None,” I said.
“You, Virgil?” Wolfson said.
“No feelings at all,” Virgil said.
Wolfson nodded. There didn’t seem to be anything else to say. But nobody ended it, and Virgil, for whatever reason, didn’t seem quite through yet. I didn’t know what his reason was, but Virgil was never a creature of whim, he was doing something. What he appeared to be doing was looking at Swann. Swann looked back.
Finally, Lujack said, “’Fore you boys go, I’d be interested in your plans.”
“Got no plans,” I said.
Virgil continued looking at Swann, as if Swann was an odd specimen of something.
“You, Cole?” Lujack said.
“None,” Virgil said.
Then I realized what Virgil was doing. He was pretty sure he’d have to go against Swann one day, and he was getting to know him as well as he could in preparation for that.
“Well,” Lujack said. “That’ll be fine for a few days, while you get your affairs in order. But in a week or so, I’ll be asking you all to move on.”
“We’ll keep it in mind,” I said.
Swann continued to meet Virgil’s stare. But it was a waste of his time. Virgil was probably unlike anyone Swann had ever seen. Virgil didn’t care if you met his stare or not. He didn’t care if he intimidated you or not. He was just gathering information.
“You got any plans, Cole?” Lujack said.
Without taking his eyes off Swann, Virgil said, “I’m formulatin’. ”
“And you heard me,” Lujack said, “about not hanging around too long.”
“I did,” Virgil said.
“Hope you’ll keep it in mind,” Lujack said.
“Surely will,” Virgil said.
He continued to look at Swann.
“Would,” Swann said to Virgil, “I was you.”
“One of the things I’m real happy about,” Virgil said, “is you ain’t me.”
They looked at each other for another minute. Then Virgil nodded to himself as if he’d learned something and turned and walked out. I went with him.
58.
Virgil and I were sitting out front of the Excelsior, formulatin’ with Cato and Rose, when the new marshal and his deputies rode out of town in a neat column of twos, heading south. Virgil stood as they went by.
“Think I’ll go along behind them,” he said, “for observatory purposes.”
“Might as well go along,” I said. “Being as how I got no job.”
“None of us got a job,” Rose said. “Me and Cato may as well tag along.”
Twenty horses, riding in a column on a dry dirt road, kicked up enough dust so we had no trouble keeping track. We rode together at an easy pace far enough behind them so’s not to cause a stir.
The trail ran out through the settlements in a series of small, low hills that stepped down to the level ground. As we came to the top of one of them, we could see a homestead below us. There was a lumber wagon, and several men were unloading lumber beside a half-built house frame. Lujack and his men rode on down to the property. The four of us stopped on the top of the small rise and watched.
The two columns peeled left and right as they reached the property. Nine men in either direction, with Lujack and Swann in the center. The horsemen stopped and sat their mounts. Lujack spoke to the men building the house, and one of them stopped work and came forward. He talked with Lujack. As the conversation proceeded, the man got more and more excited, waving his arms, pointing at the half-built house. Finally, the man stopped speaking and folded his arms and stood. Lujack said something to Swann.
With a fluid motion, Swann drew his gun and shot the man. The sound of the shot rolled past us at the top of the hill. You could tell the man was dead by the way he went down. And afterward, the clenched void of silence.
Below us, everyone seemed painted on a backdrop until Lujack spoke to the workmen. They listened. Then Lujack made a hand gesture and the company wheeled and he led them out, once again in a column of twos, raising dust as they came back up the rise, and past us, where we sat on our horses.
No one said anything, and the column passed with no sound but the horses’ hooves on the dusty trail, and the jingle of spurs and bridle trim. Neither Lujack nor Swann paid us any attention.
As the column disappeared over the next rise, the men below gathered around the man whom Swann had shot. After a time they put him in the bed of the near-empty lumber wagon and laid him out as best they could. Then the teamster and another man climbed up and turned the wagon, and the horses plodded up the hill, kicking up some dust of their own, as they trailed the marshal and his deputies back into town.
“Major Lujack don’t appear to take criticism well,” Rose said.
“You want to pull out of here?” I said to Virgil. “And go find Allie?”
“Not yet,” Virgil said.
“You boys got anyplace to go?” I said to Cato and Rose.
“Nope,” Rose said.
“There’s twenty of them,” I said, “and four of us.”
“Not if we pick off a few,” Cato said.
Virgil looked down at the half-built house. The rest of the workers had scattered, and nothing moved. He turned his horse then, and rode slowly after the wagon. The rest of us followed.
“We’ll think on it,” he said.
59.
Virgil decided that it was time to try out the old sorrel mare, see if her gashed leg had healed and she was sound. I went with him because I had nowhere else to go, and we rode easi
ly up the hill north of town and sat the horses in the shade just inside the tree line.
Virgil got off the mare and picked up her foreleg. He looked at it and squeezed it gently and put it down and remounted. The mare cropped a little grass. Virgil patted her neck.
“Good as new,” he said.
“Which ain’t all that good,” I said.
“Nope,” Virgil said, “she ain’t much. But what there is of her is working fine.”
We looked down at the town below us. It wasn’t much, either. They were building a town marshal’s office next to the Blackfoot, on the north side. While we watched, a squad of new deputy marshals rode down Main Street and south out of town.
“You remember,” Virgil said as we watched them ride out, “how we got to be the law in Appaloosa?”
“Them three fellas, owned businesses in town, they hired us,” I said.
“Town council.”
“So they said.”
“Anybody elect them?” Virgil asked.
“Not that I know of,” I said.
The squad of deputies disappeared over the crest of the first hill south of town and reappeared at the crest of the next one.
“We had a set of laws,” Virgil said, “written out clear.”
“And we wrote them,” I said.
Virgil nodded.
“So this collection of vermin,” he said, “is as much the law here as we was in Appaloosa.”
“I guess so,” I said.
The squad went over the next hill, where the road curved, following the creek.
“We done the right thing,” Virgil said, “best we could, in Appaloosa.”
“Yep.”
The deputies were out of sight now.
“These people won’t do the right thing,” Virgil said.
“Not likely,” I said.
“Already done the wrong thing, shooting that sodbuster,” Virgil said.
“I’d say so.”
“And they’re the law.”
“’Fraid so,” I said.
Virgil nodded his head slowly, gazing downhill at the ugly little town.
“Not much of a place,” he said.
“No,” I said.
“Getting worse,” Virgil said. “Mine’s dried up. Lumber company’s out of business, at least for now. Homesteaders been run off the land.”
“Yep.”
“There’s no money to be spent,” Virgil said. “Nobody to borrow from the bank. Nobody to buy feed at the emporium. No beef to broker. Whiskey sales are almost nothing in the saloons.”
Appaloosa / Resolution / Brimstone / Blue-Eyed Devil Page 30
