Brimstone, стр. 30

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.”

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.

“You expecting trouble with Percival?” Virgil said.

“Nothing we can’t handle,” Pike said.

“But you’re expecting some.”

“Percival’s crazy,” Pike said. “I won’t let him close me down.”

“Hey, Everett,” Virgil said. “What’s that thing where you attack first to stop somebody from attacking you.”

“Preemptive strike,” I said.

“You ain’t thinking ’bout any preemptive strikes,” Virgil said.

“He tries to close me down,” Pike said. “And I’ll do what’s needed.”

“Probably can’t prevent the trouble,” Virgil said. “But I’d like to contain it.”

“How you gonna contain it?” Pike said.

“Just don’t do more than is needed,” Virgil said.

“Who’s going to decide that?” Pike said.

“That would be me,” Virgil said. “And Everett.”