Robert B. Parker's Revelation

by Robert Knott

  “Escapees?” I said.

  Virgil glanced to me, then back to Chastain.

  “How many?” he said.

  Chastain shook his head.

  “Don’t know. Stringer said he’d be in the wire office to get into the details with you, wanted to connect with you personally.”

  We stepped into the office that was operated by Willoughby, a fleshy young fella with a permanent smile on his face. Virgil had Willoughby send a wire back to Yaqui to let Stringer know that he was present and waiting. A wire returned within the next minute that stated something urgent came about and Sheriff Stringer would be contacting us again momentarily. I read the original notes between Appaloosa and Yaqui that alerted us, and there was nothing else to it beyond what Chastain said.

  “Be right out here,” Virgil said with a nod.

  Virgil, Chastain, Book, and I stepped back out onto the porch.

  “Said be on the lookout. Has to mean this is not necessarily fresh news,” I said.

  “Why the delay, do you think?” Book said.

  “Hard to say,” I said.

  “Cibola is a far piece,” Chastain said.

  “What is it,” Book said. “About two hundred or so miles from here?”

  “’Bout that,” I said.

  “So a number of days back,” Book said.

  Virgil looked to me and nodded a bit.

  “Don’t know I ever heard of anybody getting outta that place,” Chastain said.

  “It’s a far ways, seventy-five miles from the closest town,” I said.

  “Used to be a lot of mining camps through there,” Chastain said. “Suspect there still are.”

  “Dry-as-hell country, too,” Book said.

  I nodded.

  “Wouldn’t think it’d be that easy for those that get out to get gone,” Chastain said.

  Virgil looked at his watch.

  “We’ll know soon enough,” Virgil said.

  “Well,” Chastain said as he pushed off from leaning on the wall, “Book, let’s you and me get back to it.”

  Book nodded and lifted up off the hitch rail he was leaning on.

  “We been cleaning, reorganizing the office, mending this and fixing that,” Chastain said. “Tired of looking at all the shit that needed attention.”

  “Not sure what he’s talking about the ‘you and me’ business. Basically it’s him telling me what to do while he piddles,” Book said.

  “Watch me piddle-kicking your ass all the way back to the office.”

  Chastain halfheartedly kicked at Book, who was already steps in front of him, moving away fast.

  Chastain looked back to us as he followed Book.

  “You will let us know?” Chastain said.

  “Will,” Virgil said.

  We watched as Chastain and Book walked off. Then Virgil pulled a cigar from his pocket, fished for a match, and struck it on the post. After he got the cigar going good we didn’t talk as we watched the riders, buggies, workers, and women pushing their babies up and down the boardwalks. I could tell, though, that there was something Virgil was thinking about other than the escapees, and after the extended silence Virgil looked at me and squinted a bit.

  “What do you think she meant by if I don’t know the answer, she can’t help me?”

  I smiled at Virgil.

  “You don’t know?”

  “By God, if I knew I wouldn’t waste time asking you.”

  I smiled again.

  “Just because French is a pretty name that borrows some sophistication from the fact it represents a world far from here doesn’t mean she needs to keep it.”

  Virgil looked at the burnt tip of the match he was holding between his thumb and finger as if it held the answer to the meaning of the universe.

  “I think she wants you to help make an honest woman of her.”

  Virgil flipped the match to the street, then looked at me.

  “You think?” he said.

  “I do.”

  Virgil nodded a little, considering that notion as he puffed slowly on his cigar.

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Seems reasonable.”

  “She say something to you?”

  “No.”

  Virgil worked on his cigar for a moment, then said, “Half the time I don’t think she even likes me.”

  “Oh, she likes you.”

  “She likes the idea of me.”

  “Naw.”

  “Seems likely sometimes.”

  “She’s just uncertain, and that makes her disposition kind of wound up at times.”

  “Wound up like an eight-day clock,” Virgil said.

  “You are everything to her.”

  Willoughby poked his head out the door.

  “Marshal Cole,” he said.

  Virgil looked back to him.

  “Sheriff Stringer,” he said.

  7

  After Willoughby let Sheriff Stringer know we were present, the sounder begun clicking and Willoughby copied the incoming message. It was a fairly long message, but Willoughby was fast and efficient at his job and began reading almost before the sounder’s final click.

  “Start transmission: We now have a problem here in Yaqui. Uncertain of the details at this time—A shootout occurred—Uncertain if related to the prison break—Details of the escape will be relayed directly—Currently and without question, there was gunplay at Yaqui river mill—At this time we don’t know who was involved or the outcome—Have yet to ride out to mill but will do so after this telegram—The following is what we know regarding Cibola—The message we received came from Western Union office in Wingate—The message Wingate received was delivered from Cibola—Wingate is the support city of the prison—That message alerting Wingate authorities was not received by wire, but was delivered by pigeon post.”

  Virgil looked to me.

  “Pigeon?” Virgil said.

  “Yes, sir, Marshal Cole,” Willoughby said. “That’s what was tapped.”

  “Go on,” Virgil said.

  Willoughby nodded.

  “There is a side note here,” Willoughby said. “About the post that just states: ‘According to Wingate authorities, the pigeon-post messaging has been utilized since the prison was first in operation twelve years previous and has remained in operation as backup communication . . .’”

  Willoughby looked up to us and said, “And the following is the post message received this a.m. from Cibola: Post—From Kenneth Tillary, first assistant to Warden Scholes Flushing of Cibola Penal Institution—Alert—An undetermined number of inmates have escaped Cibola—Transmission lines have been disrupted—Entire prison currently under lockdown—Situation within the walls contained—Unrest, however, prevails—Evaluation is under way—Will update when more details are available—For now, be advised a number of dangerous inmates are unaccounted for and at large—Sincerely, Kenneth Tillary—End post.”

  Willoughby looked to us.

  “And this is the rest from Stringer in Yaqui,” Willoughby said. “Start transmission: Wingate wire service has been dispatched for repairs—At this point in time there still is no communication with Cibola—That is all—An undetermined number of prisoners escaped four days ago—Friday, April seventeenth. Quit transmission.”

  After a series of a few more questions and replies with Stringer that did not enlighten us with any more crucial details, Virgil told Stringer to go on and take care of business at the sawmill and to report back as soon as possible.

  Virgil and I remained in the office and sent a telegram to Wingate letting them know we had been notified, and after a short exchange with them we learned there was no more information to be obtained.

  I tapped the square marked April 21 on the calendar hanging on the wall next to Willoughby’s desk.

  “If those that escaped are on foot, they could have made it to a number of towns by now if they wanted, including Yaqui.”

  Virgil nodded.

  “Could,” he said.
<
br />   “They got horses? Hell, no telling how far they’ve ranged.”

  Virgil puffed on his cigar as he thought for a moment, then looked to Willoughby.

  “Any other wires come in, let us know, Willoughby,” Virgil said.

  “Yes, sir,” he said.

  “I’ll send a deputy here to sit with you. Word from Stringer or Wingate or any place else with information, send the deputy to us with the news of what you receive.”

  “Yes, sir, Marshal Cole.”

  With that, Virgil and I left the Western Union and walked back toward the office.

  “What do you figure we do?” I said.

  “Not much we can do.”

  “No reason to head for Wingate yet.”

  Virgil shook his head.

  “If this situation in Yaqui is connected to an escaped inmate, then . . .”

  “Wingate would be in the opposite direction,” I said, finishing Virgil’s sentence.

  Virgil nodded.

  “No reason to ride to Cibola, either,” I said.

  “No,” Virgil said.

  “What’s gone is gone,” I said.

  “Is.”

  We walked for a little bit, thinking about the situation and our options.

  “Wonder why the post did not come from the warden himself?” I said.

  Virgil shook his head a little.

  “Wondered that myself.”

  A wind picked up and swiveled a tornado of dirt across the street in front of us. Virgil stopped, looked at the spinning devil for a moment, then turned and looked back up the street.

  “What?” I said.

  “Don’t know,” Virgil said as he took a long pull on his cigar. “Don’t know.”

  8

  Allie, Virgil, and I were sitting in the dining room of the Windsor Hotel, and just after we ordered dinner Thane K. Rutledge, one of Appaloosa’s newest investors, swayed by our table with two of his worker bees, on his way out.

  Rutledge was a hefty older man residing at the Windsor who had an apparent fondness for wealth, power, and liquor. At the moment he was prominently sporting all three, including a diamond-studded watch fob and his bookend associates. They were two overgrown younger fellas with derbies and thick mustaches. They looked kind of like twins, and the few times we’d met Rutledge they were with him, always standing behind him like they were there to pick up crumbs or tie their boss’s shoes.

  Rutledge was pleasant enough as he rambled on with unnecessary bluster. Once he was sure his importance was properly acknowledged and secured, he pulled back one side of his coat and put his fist to his hip.

  “I hope the three of you have it circled on your calendar, the big event. The upcoming convivial cotillion?” Rutledge said. “A ball destined to bring the who’s who of Appaloosa together. Two weeks from today.”

  “We do indeed,” Allie said.

  “We do?” Virgil said, looking at Allie.

  “Yes, we do,” Allie said as she beamed up with bright eyes that she batted at Rutledge. “It’s the talk of the ladies’ social. Everyone is putting together their finest for the event. We wouldn’t miss the party, let me tell you. Not for the world.”

  “For the world? Well, good,” he said. “That’s what I like to hear. I think the entire best of Appaloosa will be there. It will be the grandest party to happen here ever.”

  Virgil looked to me.

  “It is just so exciting,” Allie said. “I know all the ladies will be looking for new fineries, so I hope to have my store open and stocked soon so I can help make the festivities as grand as the parties they have in faraway countries.”

  “Wonderful, just wonderful,” Rutledge said. “But the faraway countries will have nothing on us, Mrs. French.”

  “Where you gonna throw this shindig?” I said.

  “The new Vandervoort Town Hall, where else.”

  “Wouldn’t know,” I said.

  “It’s the only place big enough. Vandervoort was kind enough to offer the place to me. It’s a fabulous structure. It will be the Town Hall’s maiden voyage. My idea, of course, but Vandervoort decided to bring in an orchestra all the way from Boston.”

  “It’s so exciting,” Allie said.

  “Good, good,” he said. “Until then, if not sooner.”

  Rutledge and his two shoe-tying associates made a move to go, but then Rutledge turned back. He smiled some as he leaned in toward Virgil like they were best friends.

  “Almost forgot . . . What’s this I hear about a prison break, Marshal Cole?”

  Virgil glanced over to me. Then he rested his hands on the table and looked to Rutledge with a steady gaze.

  “You tell me?”

  Rutledge looked back and forth between Virgil and me like a boy knowing he’s about to be scolded.

  “Oh . . . sorry . . . Marshal Cole, I . . . I was in contact with one of my business partners who resides in Yaqui and that was how I received word . . . I didn’t know it was something I, um . . .”

  “It’s all right, Mr. Rutledge,” Virgil said. “But why don’t you do what you can to help us by not pulling the cinch too tight on this.”

  “By all means, Marshal Cole, by all means. My apologies. We will see you at the gala.”

  Rutledge nodded, then backed away from the table and the threesome moved off and out of the dining room.

  Virgil looked to me.

  “Something about him don’t sit,” Virgil said.

  “What?”

  Virgil shook his head a little.

  “Don’t seem like the party-throwing type,” Virgil said.

  Allie took a drink of wine and shook her head back and forth a little.

  “How many escaped, Virgil?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “My word,” she said.

  Virgil nodded.

  “We just don’t know the details yet,” he said.

  Allie nodded slowly and took another sip of wine.

  “Well, what about me? What about my shop?”

  Virgil looked at me across the table, then looked back to Allie.

  “Your shop?”

  “Yes.”

  Virgil squinted his eyes a bit, looking at her.

  “What about your shop?”

  “But why, Virgil?”

  “Why what?”

  “The prison break, you have not said a word about it.”

  “Well, I’m not keeping it from you.”

  “What are you doing if you’re not?”

  “Hell, Allie, we only found out about it this afternoon, after we saw you at your shop.”

  Allie took an unladylike gulp of wine.

  “And besides, that don’t got nothing to do with you and your shop, Allie.”

  “Of course not, Virgil, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I meant what about us, all of us, the people of Appaloosa, our safety, that is what I’m talking about.”

  “The fact that there was a break,” Virgil said, “don’t mean the escaped men are going to come here to Appaloosa and cause trouble and such.”

  Virgil looked to me and I nodded.

  “Many men who escape just want a better life,” I said. “Many take their newfound freedom and just hide, or do their best to stay out of trouble. Hope they don’t get sent back.”

  “Many is not all,” she said.

  “I won’t deny that.”

  “Main thing is, Allie,” Virgil said. “You have us.”

  “I have been around you, the both of you, long enough to know exactly what this means. You and Everett will go out and pursue these convicts that are running loose, one way or another. That is just how it will be that is inevitable.”

  Virgil looked at me.

  “Regardless of our duties, Allie,” I said, “or where our duties take us, you and the good people of Appaloosa will be looked after.”

  Virgil nodded.

  “With Sheriff Chastain and Deputy Book,” I said, “and the team of worthy deputies to look after everyone, you have nothing to
be concerned about, Allie.”

  Allie looked at me and took another little sip of wine, then rested her hands in her lap.

  “How far away from us?” Allie said.

  Virgil looked to me.

  “’Bout two hundred miles.”

  “My God,” she said.

  “What?” Virgil said.

  “That’s close,” she said.

  “Hell, Allie, everything is close or far, depending how you look at it.”

  “Well, it’s a bit too close for comfort, if you ask me.”

  I leaned back in my chair and saw Book enter the hotel. He caught my eye, then crossed the lobby and entered the dining room. He removed his hat as he got to our table.

  “Mrs. French,” Book said with a nod, then looked to Virgil.

  “Sheriff Stringer got back to us and he’s got more information . . .”

  Book looked to Allie.

  “More information,” Book said. “Um . . . regarding the . . .”

  “The prison break?” Allie said.

  Book looked at her and smiled a little, then looked back to Virgil and me.

  “Sheriff Stringer said he’d be back to the office there within the hour so you could communicate.”

  Allie took another sip, an even more unladylike sip, and drained her glass.

  9

  After dinner we walked Allie back to her shop. She said she was not in the mood to go home alone while we went about our marshaling business. She said she’d prefer to continue with getting her shop ready.

  “Smells like rain,” I said.

  “Does,” Virgil said.

  “If it does, Everett will pick me up in his buggy, won’t you, Everett?”

  “Most assuredly, Allie,” I said.

  “Everett, I said this before, but I will say it again. You are forever the gentleman,” Allie said.

  “Sure he is, Allie,” Virgil said. “You don’t think I would have someone work with me who was not a gentleman, do you?”

  “Well, I do what I can, when I can,” I said.

  “Oh, you do far more than that,” Allie said as she unlocked the door to her shop.

  She insisted we help her move a few trunks and hang a dressing mirror before we left. A necessary gesture on her part so as to let both Virgil and me know who was in charge. After we got the mirror hung, we left Allie standing in front of it, looking at her backside. When the door closed behind us, Virgil glanced back at Allie for a moment, then looked at me and smiled a little.