“Why not take his money?” I said. “You’ll maybe end up fighting his battle?”
“Don’t want it,” Virgil said.
“Why not?” I said.
“More comfortable if I’m helping my friend,” Virgil said.
I sipped my whiskey.
“’Cause you ain’t a lawman anymore,” I said.
“Ain’t clear to me right now what I am,” Virgil said.
“You’re good with firearms,” I said.
Virgil nodded and drank some whiskey.
“And you’re my friend,” I said.
Virgil nodded again.
“We’ll see about the rest,” he said.
21.
It had been hot all week, so that when the rain came on Thursday night everyone was pleased. Zorn Tully came in, shook the rain off of his round hat, and offered to buy drinks for everyone. No one declined.
“What’s the celebration?” Patrick said when he finished putting the drinks out and Zorn had paid him.
“Leaving town,” Zorn said. “Just wanted to say good-bye to everyone before I went.”
“Where you going?” Patrick said.
“Maybe Laramie,” Zorn said. “Maybe Denver. Ain’t sure yet. Never been to Denver.”
“How come you’re going?” Patrick said.
“Sold my saloon,” Zorn said.
“You sold the Excelsior?”
“Yep, Eamon O’Malley bought it.”
"O’Malley?” Patrick said.
“Yep.”
“He give you a good price?” Patrick said.
“Fair,” Zorn said. “It was a fair price.”
The Excelsior Saloon was directly across the street from the Blackfoot.
“How come you decided to sell,” I said.
“Been here long enough,” Zorn said. “Fella came along, offered me a good fair price, I took it.”
“Much negotiating?” I said.
“No, like I say. Eamon came in, offered a good fair price.”
“Anyone come with him?” I said.
Zorn didn’t look at them.
“Sure,” he said. “Couple fellas work for him.”
I nodded.
“Cato and Rose?” I said.
Zorn sort of shrugged.
“Yeah,” he said. “I believe so.”
“Good negotiators,” I said.
“Good fair price,” Zorn said.
He was not just avoiding my eyes now. He was looking at something across the room. I looked, too. Just inside the saloon door, Cato and Rose stood looking at us.
Zorn began to move away from the bar.
“Everett,” Zorn said, “been good knowing you. I tole Patrick to give you one on me when you get off.”
I nodded, and Zorn Tully walked rapidly away from the bar and out the side door of the saloon where it connects with the hotel. I watched him go. Then I looked over at Cato and Rose. Rose grinned at me and shrugged and walked over. Cato stayed by the door.
“Heard Tully was buying drinks,” Rose said. “Guess we got here too late.”
“Said he was leaving town,” I said.
“I believe he is,” Rose said. “He tell you he sold his saloon?”
“He mentioned it,” I said.
“He tell you he sold it to Eamon O’Malley?”
“He mentioned that, too,” I said.
“Right across the street,” Rose said. “Kinda funny, ain’t it?”
“What’s funny?” I said.
“This little dump of a nowhere town,” Rose said. “On this side of the street, the saloon bouncers are you and Virgil Cole. On the other side of the street, the saloon bouncers gonna be me and Cato.”
“You’re right,” I said. “Lotta talent, for a little town.”
“More coming,” Rose said.
22.
Fair offer, my ass,” Wolfson said. "That cheap Irish fuck has never made anyone a fair offer in his life. You saw the way he tried to buy this place.”
It was late. The saloon was closed. Virgil and I sat with Wolfson at a table and had a drink.
“You think he paid him anything?” I said.
“Cash,” Virgil said. “Show money. Not much, but all cash, so it felt like something.”
Wolfson nodded slowly.
“Like a reservation buck,” he said. “On a binge.”
He poured himself another drink, offered the bottle toward Virgil and me. We both shook our heads.
“It’s starting,” Wolfson said.
“You and O’Malley?” I said.
“Yes.”
“Might be,” I said.
“You’ll stay,” he said.
“Yes,” I said.
Virgil said, “I’m with Hitch.”
“Think it’s time I should see that fella in Araby?”
“Willy Beck?” Virgil said.
“Why not?” I said.
“You agree with me?” Wolfson said. “This is not going to stop?”
“Not right away,” Virgil said.
“Frank Rose hinted to me that they were hiring.”
“God,” Wolfson said. “It’s like a damned war starting.”
Virgil and I were quiet.
“Why is he so crazy to take over?” Wolfson said. “A fucking war, for crissake!”
“Remember what he said, when he made the offer? A mine is all overhead until it peters out.”
“He wants overhead,” Wolfson said. “I’ll show him fucking overhead. He’s making big, big money up there.”
“Until it peters out,” I said.
Wolfson stared at me.
“You think it’s petering out?”
“He seems eager to get into a new business,” I said.
“Goddamn,” Wolfson said. “Goddamn.”
He poured more whiskey. Virgil and I declined again.
“He’s petering out, and we can hold him off long enough he’ll run out of money,” Wolfson said. “Will Cato and Rose stick with him if there’s no money?”
“No,” Virgil said.
“Nobody else he hires, either,” I said.
“So we hold him off he’ll have to quit.”
“He knows that, too,” Virgil said.
“Meaning?” Wolfson said.
"Meaning he’ll push pretty hard to get it done ’fore that happens,” I said.
23.
Me and Virgil were sitting on the front porch of the Blackfoot Hotel. Across the street at Zorn Tully’s old saloon, there was a new sign in place that read
“Uh-huh. The Duke of Wellington defeated Napoleon there.”
“Napoleon was the Empire of France, wasn’t he?”
“Something like that,” I said.
I knew he meant emperor.
“When I was at the Academy,” I said, “we had to read about it. The Duke’s army was full of riffraff, a lot of them had been grabbed off the street by press gangs, a lot of them been let out of prison to fight.”
Virgil nodded, watching the horsemen.
“So,” I said. “Somebody asks the Duke before the battle how he feels about his army. And he says, ‘I don’t know if they will scare the French, but they scare the hell out of me.’”
Virgil smiled and nodded as he watched the horsemen. Three riders pulled up in front of where we were sitting. The one closest to us was a kid with his hat brim turned up in front, and a feeble-looking little beard starting on his face. He had a Winchester in the saddle boot, and a big showy Colt with a white handle on his hip.
“You Virgil Cole?” he said.
“I am,” Virgil said.
“I heard you was the best,” the kid said.
Virgil shrugged.
“So far,” he said.
“My name’s Henry Boyle,” the kid said.
Virgil nodded.
“Lotta people claim I’m as good as anybody,” the kid said.
“Nice to know,” Virgil said.
“You working for Wolfson?” the kid said.
“I’m with Hitch,” Virgil said.
“Hitch working for Wolfson?”
“I am,” I said.
“Well, we’re on the same side, I guess,” the kid said.
Virgil said nothing.
The kid looked at Virgil. Virgil looked back. The kid glanced at the other two riders. They didn’t have anything to say. The kid looked back at Virgil, then at me. Nobody had anything to say.
“Well, nice talking to you,” the kid said.
Virgil nodded. The three riders moved on toward the livery.
“What the fuck is Willy Beck sending us?” I said.
“Not much,” Virgil said.
“I’ll bet Wolfson haggled on price,” I said.
Virgil looked after the departing Henry Boyle.
“And lost,” Virgil said.
24.
Bob Redmond walked up the board sidewalk toward the front porch of the Blackfoot.
"Mind if I sit?” he said.
Virgil didn’t respond, and I realized that I had assumed he would. It was funny, me and Virgil these days. Always before, he’d been in charge. Always before, I had worked for him. Now I wasn’t sure if I was in charge, and he didn’t exactly work for me. But things were different.
“Don’t mind,” I said. “This is Virgil Cole.”
“I heard of you,” Redmond said.
Virgil nodded.
“You working for Wolfson now?” Redmond said.
“Visiting Everett,” Virgil said.
“But if there was trouble?”
“You think there’ll be trouble?” Virgil said.
“It’s coming,” Redmond said. “Sure as hell.”
"Wolfson and O’Malley?” I said.
“O’Malley came and talked with us last night,” Redmond said.
“Who’s us?” I said.
“Ranchers, said there was trouble coming. Said we’re either with him or with Wolfson. Tole us if he ran things we’d get a fair shake on the beef prices, and a decent rate at the bank.”
“He want your help?” I said.
“I don’t know,” Redmond said. “My sense is that he just don’t want us, you know, sniping at his flank.”
“How many ranchers,” Virgil said.
“All told maybe fifty.”
“How many at the meetin’?” Virgil said.
Redmond paused and counted in his head.
“Me and six others,” he said.
Virgil didn’t say anything.
“We’re scattered,” Redmond said. “We work hard. Lot of us can’t get to meetin’s.”
“You speak for them all?” I said.
“I don’t know. Yeah, I guess I do. Nobody else does.”
“What do you want out of this?” I said.
“We got to get rid of Wolfson,” Redmond said. “He’s chokin’ us. We can’t make it with Wolfson running things.”
“And you think you can with O’Malley?” I said.
“No.”
“So?”
Redmond was quiet for a minute.
“We got to get rid of Wolfson,” he said.
“So you’re throwin’ in with him,” I said.
“I guess so, ’less you could help us.”
“How we gonna do that?” I said.
Redmond was sitting with his feet flat on the floor, his elbows resting on his thighs, his hands clasped. He stared down at the clasped hands for a time.
“What would work for us,” he said, “would be the two of them fight it out, and after they beat hell out of each other, and one of them finally wins, we take the town away from him.”
Redmond looked up at us. Virgil smiled.
“Nice,” Virgil said.
“Might need more than a few Winchesters for that,” I said.
“I know.”
“Got the balls for it?” Virgil said.
Again, Redmond looked at his hands for a while.
“No, I don’t think we do,” he said.
“Only a fool would have claimed they did,” I said. “It’s sort of special work.”
“But if you could help us, especially with Mr. Cole here. We couldn’t pay you much now, but…”
I put up my hand.
“Same answer as before. I work for Wolfson.”
“Mr. Cole doesn’t,” Redmond said.
“I’m with Everett,” Virgil said.
We all sat silently.
Finally, Redmond said, “Well, we can’t live the way we’re living.”
“You can count on changing that,” Virgil said.
25.
Virgil and I rode out in the morning to visit Fritz Stark at his sawmill. We had some strong coffee with him in the raw-plank shack that served as an office at the mill. The sound of the steam saw and the smell of sawn wood permeated everything.
“Name’s Everett Hitch,” I said. “He’s Virgil Cole.”
Stark was a tall, sharp-edged man with thick eyebrows and no social grace.
“What do you want?” he said.
“Wanted to talk,” I said.
“Go ahead,” Stark said.
"You probably know there’s trouble brewing in town,” I said.
“Never go to town,” Stark said. “Don’t know nothing ’bout it.”
“You know Wolfson?” I said. “Runs the emporium? O’Malley, who owns the copper mine?”
“Know ’em,” Stark said. “Don’t like ’em.”
“Why not?” I said.
“Coupla thievin’ cocksuckers,” Stark said.
“How about a young fella named Redmond?” I said.
“Don’t know him,” Stark said.
“If Wolfson and O’Malley got into some sort of shooting situation, would you back one against the other.”
“No,” Stark said.
He looked at Virgil.
“What’s your name again?” Stark said.
Virgil smiled. I could tell he liked Stark.
“Cole,” he said. “Virgil Cole.”
Stark nodded to himself.
“What I thought,” Stark said. “I know about you.”
“Uh-huh,” Virgil said.
“You’re a lawman,” Stark said.
“Used to be,” Virgil said.
“What are you now?” Stark said.
“Don’t know,” Virgil said.
“You up here working for somebody?” Stark said.
“Nope,” Virgil said.
“So why you here?” Stark said.
“Visiting Everett,” Virgil said.
“How ’bout you,” Stark said. “You a lawman?”
“Used to be,” I said.
“What are you now,” Stark said.
“I keep the peace in Wolfson’s saloon,” I said.
“Wolfson send you up here?”
“Nope.”
“So why you up here talking to me?” Stark said.
“Curious by nature,” I said.
“Well, I ain’t,” Stark said. “I just want to cut my lumber and stack it on the flatbed.”
“And you don’t plan to take sides,” I said, “if there’s trouble between ’em.”
“Hope they kill each other,” Stark said. “Got no use for either one.”
I stood.
“Thanks for your time,” I said.
“Well, I ain’t got much of it,” Stark said. “You want somethin’ to eat ’fore you go?”
I said, “No thanks.”
Virgil grinned.
“Your coffee’s so chewy,” he said. “It’s a full meal by itself.”
26.
We rode slowly down out of the trees toward Resolution, letting the horses pretty well take us. "Might be easier world,” Virgil said, “everybody was like Stark.”
“Might not be much fun,” I said.
“True,” Virgil said. “But he knows what he is. He’s a fella cuts lumber.”
“Yep.”
“I been reading a lot,” Virgil said.
“You do that,” I said.
“Like to try and learn stuff,” Virgil said. “I’m reading this fella Locke. You know, the English fella.”
“They told us about him at the Academy,” I said.
“You sure don’t talk like a fella went to West Point,” Virgil said.
“Been riding with you too long,” I said.
“Been good for you,” Virgil said.
“Maybe,” I said.
“This Locke,” Virgil said. “If I’m readin’ him right, he says that the law is sort of a contract between the people and the government.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So if either side breaks the contract,” Virgil said, “what happens?”
“I don’t know.”
The horses paused hock-deep in a small stream and drank some water.
“What I was wondering,” Virgil said, “when we was marshaling in Appaloosa, was we the government or the people.”
“Virgil,” I said, “mostly what I remember from the Academy is cavalry tactics.”
The horses stopped drinking and moved on.
“Well, I been thinking about that,” Virgil said.
“I know,” I said.
“I broke the contract,” Virgil said.
“You think so?” I said.
“Ain’t that what happened?” Virgil said. “I hired on to be the law, and I wasn’t.”
“Mostly you were,” I said.
“Mostly is okay for sodbusters,” Virgil said, “or miners, but when you’re a gunman…”
The horses plodded out of the tree cover and onto the cleared slope above the town.
“Wouldn’ta been no law,” I said, “in Appaloosa, wasn’t for you.”
Virgil didn’t answer.
Heading toward the town and the livery and maybe some feed, the horses started to move a little faster.