Brimstone, стр. 18

“No,” Virgil said. “She means she can’t be alone.”

“Anywhere,” I said.

Mary Beth nodded. Laurel was still.

“Anywhere,” Virgil said.

“That makes it a little harder,” I said.

I handed the whiskey jug to Pony; he took a pull and passed it on to Mary Beth. She fastidiously wiped the mouth of the jug with the bottom of her skirt, and poured some whiskey into her cup.

“Can’t be alone,” she said.

THE NEXT DAY WE CAME to the Paiute, and a day later, riding up the low rise from the river, we saw the Ostermueller farm. The draught horses that had followed us all the way broke into a trot and went past us, heading for the stock shed. We paused. Virgil glanced at the women. As we sat, tears started down Mary Beth’s face.

“Want to stop off here?” Virgil said.

Mary Beth shook her head.

Laurel suddenly kicked her horse in the ribs and hung on to the saddle horn as he broke into a gallop. Pony went after her and caught her as her horse, getting no instructions from its rider, slowed to a walk. He caught the bridle and they stopped. Laurel stayed hunched over the saddle horn, her face turned away from the farmhouse. Pony looked back at Virgil. Virgil gestured toward town. Pony shrugged and let go of the harness, and rode beside her as they went toward Brimstone. As soon as we were past the farm, Laurel slowed her horse until Virgil came up.

“The horses,” Mary Beth said.

“Everett’ll take care of them, for now,” Virgil said. “Till we get you settled.”

Mary Beth nodded. They kept riding.

The horses were standing blankly in the stock shed. I tethered my horse, gave the draught horses more food than they needed, and filled the drinking trough. One of the horses paused while he was eating and put his head over into the empty stall where the milk cow had stood. He stood for a moment like that. Then he went back to eating. I put some fresh hay on the floor, hooked the stall gates, and rode after the others.

I caught up with them at the edge of town. We rode in before noon, tied the mule and the horses to the rail in front of the sheriff’s office, and went in. Virgil put two chairs out for the women. Then he went and sat at the desk. Laurel sat in the chair nearest Virgil. I took my usual chair, and leaned the eight-gauge against the wall next to me. Pony leaned on the wall by the door.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Virgil said. “We’re going to get you a nice room at the hotel. They…”

“No,” Mary Beth said. “No. Not alone. You can’t leave us. Don’t leave us. He’ll come back. He’ll come right into town.”

Virgil waited. Laurel sat stiff in her chair. Mary Beth started to cry.

“No, please, no…” And then the sobbing overcame her and she couldn’t talk.

“We won’t leave you alone,” Virgil said quietly.

She was too committed to crying to stop all at once. But she cried more gently.

“We get you a room,” Virgil said, “that looks out on the lobby. One of us, me, Everett, or Pony…”

He looked at Pony. Pony nodded.

Virgil continued.

“… be sitting right there in the lobby.”

“He’ll sneak in on us. He’ll come in while we’re sleeping,” Mary Beth said.

“Be on the second floor,” Virgil said. “You keep your window locked. And we’ll give you a bell.”

“Bell?”

“Cowbell,” Virgil said. “He ain’t gonna know what room you’re in. If he does, he ain’t gonna climb up the side of the wall. If he could, he’d have to break the window and you’d hear him and ring the bell and we come running.”

“What if he kills you?”

“We been doing this kind of work for a long time,” Virgil said. “Nobody’s killed us yet.”

Mary Beth was shaking her head.

“Won’t be for long, just while we arrange something for you,” Virgil said. “I’ll have my… I’ll have a woman I know come in and see to you. Bring you clothes, things like that. She been through some of what you been through.”

“She has? Can she be alone?”

Virgil and I looked at each other.

“She’s managing it,” Virgil said.

“Well, I can’t manage it,” she said. “And neither can Laurel.”

“Mary Beth,” I said. “No such thing as perfect safety. You are as safe now as you have ever been in your life. Or ever will be.”

Mary Beth looked at her daughter. Laurel was stiff, and her body was all angles. She registered nothing.

“Lady,” Pony said softly from the doorway. “He will not hurt you. I promise he will not.”

“What if they don’t have a room that you can see the lobby?” she said.

“They will,” Virgil said.

Mary Beth had stopped crying.

“This is as safe as I’m ever going to be,” she said.

“Or ever were,” I said.

“What Everett means,” Virgil said, “is safe is more how you feel than how things are. You’re safe. You just don’t feel it.”

Mary Beth nodded.

“Two weeks ago,” I said, “you felt safe in your house. And you weren’t. Now you don’t feel safe with us. And you are.”

“Safe and not safe is mostly in your head,” Virgil said.

He stood and put out one hand each to Mary Beth and Laurel. Mary Beth took it. Laurel didn’t. Virgil didn’t seem to notice, except that I knew he did, because Virgil notices everything.

“Here we go,” Virgil said.

The women hesitated.

“Bring the eight-gauge,” Virgil said to me. “Make everyone feel safer.”

“Including you?” I said.

Virgil grinned.

“ ’Specially me,” he said.

The women stood. Mary Beth first, then Laurel. And we went out of the sheriff’s office and walked down to the hotel, Laurel holding on to Virgil’s left sleeve. The chances of Buffalo Calf coming into town were very small. The chance that he even knew the women weren’t in Mexico was very small. But the women were so scared I found myself keeping an eye out.

Just in case.

“THESE WOMEN NEED OUR HELP,” Allie said to Brother Percival.

Mary Beth and Laurel sat in the front row of pews beside Allie, wearing some clothes that Allie had given them. Brother Percival stood in front of the altar rail, facing them in his white robe, with his long blond hair spilling onto his shoulders, and his thick arms folded across his chest.

“He thinks he’s Jesus,” I whispered.

“No beard,” Virgil said.

Pony stood in the back of the church, by the door. Choctaw Brown stood near him. Choctaw and Pony were studying each other. A couple of other deacons stood against the far wall. There was no one else in the church.

“What is your name?” Percival said.

“Mary Beth Ostermueller.”

“Tell me your story, Mary Beth,” Brother Percival said.

“An Indian killed my husband and took us,” Mary Beth said. “He sold us to some men who were taking us to Mexico when Mr. Cole came and saved us.”

“All by yourself,” I said.

Virgil ignored me. He was looking at Percival.

“What happened to the men?”

“Mr. Cole killed them.”

“Wish I coulda seen it,” I whispered.

Virgil shrugged.

“Were you despoiled?” Percival said.

“Despoiled?”

“Did these men do things to you.”

“Yes.”

“What?”

Mary Beth shook her head.

“We can’t talk about it,” she said.

“And the young lady?” Brother Percival said.

“My daughter, Laurel.”

Percival nodded and spoke to her.

“What do you have to say, Laurel?”

Laurel’s silence was like a boulder.

“Does she speak?” Percival said.

“Hasn’t spoke since this happened to her,” Allie said.

“That right?” Percival said to Mary Beth.

“Yessir,” Mary Beth said. “And when we passed our farm she tried to ride off.”

“Do you know why?” Percival said.

“It’s where her father got killed,” Mary Beth said. “Figured it was something about that.”

“You own that property?” Percival said.