Appaloosa / Resolution / Brimstone / Blue-Eyed Devil

by Robert B. Parker

  I nodded.

  “Wasn’t planning on no daughter,” I said.

  “Nope.”

  We walked on toward the church. It was a warm day, with some wind that kicked up the dust in the street in little swirls and bothered the parasols that some of the ladies carried.

  “Laurel might change her,” Virgil said.

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “I think she will,” Virgil said.

  I didn’t say anything.

  “I’ll only say this to you, Everett,” Virgil said. “ ’Cause I don’t mind so much looking like a fool to you. But I believe her this time.”

  “And them other men?” I said.

  “Got nothing to do with me,” Virgil said.

  I nodded. We walked on. We could see The Church of the Brotherhood ahead of us. There were several deacons standing around outside wearing Colts.

  “ ’ Less it keeps happening,” Virgil said. “Can’t take that no more.”

  “Good,” I said.

  Virgil nodded and stopped outside the church.

  “Howdy, boys,” he said. “We come to see Brother Percival.”

  59

  WE SAT WITH PERCIVAL IN A PEW near the back of the church.

  “I’ve not seen Allie lately,” Percival said. “Is she well?”

  “She’s busy with Laurel Ostermueller,” Virgil said.

  “Ah, yes, how tragic, the abduction, then her mother killing herself.”

  “You fucking them,” Virgil said.

  “If you came to be abusive,” Percival said, “then this conversation is over.”

  “Believe you fucked Allie some, too.”

  Percival rose to his feet.

  “You’re appalling,” he said to Virgil.

  “I am, for a fact,” Virgil said. “You got any plans to close Pike down?”

  It was moving a little fast for Brother Percival. He shook his head slightly as if to clear it.

  “Pike?” he said.

  “Yeah. You planning on running him out like you done all the other saloon owners?” Virgil said.

  “ ‘ Saloon owners,’ ” Percival said. “You say it as if it were ordinary. Every one of the sins that accumulated in those hell-holes that I closed has re-formed and erupted in Pike’s Palace. It is the ultimate cesspool of corruption, and it is poisoning the town.”

  “That sound like yes to you, Everett?” Virgil said.

  “Seems so to me,” I said.

  “You think Pike gonna let you close him down?” Virgil said.

  “An armed and muscular Christianity cannot be defeated,” Percival answered.

  He always sounded to me like he was recycling his own sermons, which he probably was.

  “I wouldn’t count too much on Choctaw,” Virgil said.

  “I rely on my Father in heaven,” Percival said.

  “Probably better than Choctaw,” Virgil said.

  Percival looked down at us with contempt, dirtied as we were with mortality.

  “Is there a purpose to this visit?” Percival said.

  “Ain’t planning to prevent you doing what you going to do,” Virgil said. “Nor Pike from answering you back. You both got the right. But these things have a way of spillin’ over, and I don’t want that to happen.”

  “What you want, Deputy,” Percival said, “what either of you wants, doesn’t matter, I am not governed by you and your laws. My allegiance is to a far greater power, and what He and I will do is not open to debate.”

  “Well, Brother P.,” Virgil said. “What me and Everett want matters to us, and when it matters enough, we are pretty good at making it matter to other people. I want you to keep this thing between you and Pike between you and Pike.”

  Percival stared down at Virgil without speaking.

  “And,” Virgil said, “if things get outta hand, I’m gonna shoot you. Everett might shoot you, too.”

  Percival continued to stare down at us. Then without a word he turned and stormed away down the center aisle of the church. Virgil and I watched him go.

  “Think we scared him?” I said.

  “ ’Fraid not,” Virgil said.

  “Him or the Heavenly Father,” I said.

  “Neither,” Virgil said.

  60

  IT WAS LIKE A SUMMER STORM approaching. The atmosphere tightened; I could feel the tension crackling. There was no thunder yet, or lightning, but I could feel it lurking. I knew it was coming. So did everyone else. There were more men with guns standing around. There were fewer people on the streets. The people who were on the streets walked faster. The dogs seemed to slink a little. The horses seemed edgy. Everyone seemed somehow wound a little tighter. Except Virgil. As always, he remained entirely Virgil Cole, regardless of what was going on around him.

  “Gonna be one hell a deluge,” I said, as we walked in the evening back to Allie’s house.

  “Deluge?” Virgil said. “Like rain?”

  “Just thinking out loud,” I said.

  Virgil shook his head.

  “You’re kinda strange sometimes, Everett,” Virgil said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I know.”

  Pony was sitting in a rocker on Allie’s front porch with a Winchester in his lap. Laurel sat on a straight chair next to him.

  “Where’s Allie?” Virgil said.

  “Cook supper,” Pony said.

  “Uh-oh,” Virgil said.

  Pony shrugged.

  “We’ll be here for a while,” I said to Pony, “you want to go up to Pike’s or whatever.”

  “Good,” Pony said. “Maybe eat.”

  I grinned.

  “Better hurry,” I said. “I think she’s coming.”

  Pony stood and leaned the Winchester against the doorjamb.

  “Watch the rifle for me,” he said.

  Virgil nodded.

  “Don’t go too far,” Virgil said.

  Pony nodded and walked off toward Arrow Street. Virgil sat next to Laurel.

  “You know something?” I said to Virgil.

  “Just a feeling,” Virgil said. “Air’s kinda tight.”

  I didn’t say anything. Allie came out in an apron. It wasn’t much of an apron, as far as keeping gravy off your dress. But it was cute-looking, and she looked cute in it.

  “Supper’s ready,” she said.

  She was making progress. The food wasn’t good. But nothing was burned, and we ate as much of it as we could so as not to hurt her feelings. We were back on the porch letting it digest when Pony came silently out of the darkness. Virgil had heard him, I could tell, because he had shifted forward slightly in his chair to clear his gun hand.

  “Percival,” he said. “At Pike’s. All lined up. Singing church music.”

  “Sounds like it’s gonna start,” I said.

  Virgil nodded. He looked at Pony and jerked his head at the women. Pony nodded and picked up his Winchester and sat down beside Laurel. Virgil stood and went into the house. In a moment he came out with another Colt. One with a shorter barrel. A banker’s gun. He gave it to Allie.

  “Showed you how to shoot,” Virgil said. “You need to, shoot.”

  Allie didn’t say anything. But she nodded and took the gun. Virgil picked up his Winchester. I picked up the eight-gauge.

  Virgil looked at the women.

  “Be back soon,” he said.

  They both nodded. And we started up toward Arrow Street.

  61

  THERE WAS LOW CLOUD COVER preventing the moon and stars from being visible. On Arrow Street there were some coal-oil lamps. But the clouds made the side streets very black. I could barely see Virgil beside me. We could hear singing ahead, and when we reached Arrow Street, we could see the singers, Percival and his people, lined up opposite Pike’s Palace, holding torches, singing “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”

  Mine eyes have seen the glory . . .

  “Jesus,” Virgil said.

  . . . of the coming of the Lord . . .

  At the center of the
line and a little forward was Brother Percival, with Choctaw Brown beside him. Brother Percival was singing at full throat. Choctaw was silent.

  . . . trampling out the vintage . . .

  On the front porch of Pike’s Palace stood maybe a dozen men, all armed. Pike was there, and Abner Noonan, the new shotgun lookout, was beside Pike. I recognized most of the rest from seeing them in the Palace. There were people I didn’t see. I knew Pike had at least twenty.

  . . . where the grapes of wrath are stored . . .

  “Where’s the rest of Pike’s people,” I said.

  Virgil nodded at the photographer’s shop across the way. There was an alley on each side of the shop, leading to Market Street. In both alley mouths I could see men.

  “If the ball goes up,” I said, “Pike’ll cut them to pieces.”

  “Yep.”

  “We gonna do anything ’bout that?” I said.

  “Nope.”

  “Why not.”

  “What we gain ain’t commensurate with what we might lose,” Virgil said.

  He’d waited all this time to use his new word.

  “So we lie back here in the weeds and watch,” I said.

  “We do,” Virgil said.

  “And if they start shooting, when it’s over, we’ll have that many fewer people to deal with.”

  “Exactly right,” Virgil said.

  . . . loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword . . .

  Percival’s people plodded on through the “Battle Hymn,” with the torches dancing in the night air, and Pike and his men motionless and silent on the porch before them.

  . . . glory, glory, hallelujah . . .

  When they finished, everything was quiet. I could hear the torches burning. Then Percival stepped forward and up onto the porch. He stood directly in front of Pike.

  “I am here to do my Father’s will,” he said. “I am here to close this pestilence and drive you from this town.”

  “I’m not going to fuck with this, Percival,” Pike said. “You people bother me and a lot of you will get hurt.”

  “You think we fear you?” Percival said.

  “I think you should,” Pike said.

  “Because we are godly does not mean we are weak,” Percival said.

  He raised his fists in some sort of boxing stance. Pike looked at him in mock amazement.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he said.

  Percival punched him on the chin. It took Pike by surprise and made him rock back on his heels for a moment. Then he exploded. He lunged his mass into Percival’s, and half turned and clubbed Percival across the side of the head. It turned Percival and sent him staggering backward and off the porch, where he landed facedown in the dirt. A low sound came from the assembled torchbearers. Percival rolled around in the dirt for a moment in some sort of frenzy, then turned and, sitting in the street, faced Pike. He was covered with dirt. He leveled his arm at Pike, pointing with his forefinger.

  “Choctaw,” he screamed. “Kill him.”

  Choctaw looked down at Percival for a minute with a half-smile and shook his head. Then he stepped up onto the porch and stood beside Pike and Abner. Percival was on his hands and knees in the street now, staring up at the men on the porch.

  “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 ba
ck. 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.