“I know that the Lord resides in me,” Percival said. “I know what the Lord shares with me.”
“Lord always been there?” Virgil said.
“He is always there in all of us,” Percival said. “But many of us deny him.”
He looked sort of pointedly, I thought, at me and Virgil.
“Didn’t realize he was there,” I said.
“I denied him, at first,” Percival said. “There was a time when I denied God, when I lived a life of the physical self, when I drank, when I committed fornication, when I relied on violence. But God would not be denied. He battered my defenses. He forced himself upon me until we have become one.”
“You and God?” I said.
“Yes.”
“One thing?” I said.
“Yes.”
“You and God being one thing,” I said. “Must be pretty hard to think anything you do is wrong.”
“The Lord governs me in all things,” Percival said.
“He tell you to keep Choctaw Brown on the payroll?” Virgil said.
“As you must know, there is no payroll,” Percival said. “Choctaw came to me, as I had been. He came from a life of dissipation and cruelty. He said he wanted to be saved. We welcomed him to the brotherhood.”
“He saved?” I said.
“He is.”
“Still wearing a Colt,” Virgil said.
“I told you we are militant Christians,” Percival said. “We will not allow those who have not been saved to do us harm.”
“I guess probably I ain’t been saved yet,” Virgil said. “But I don’t want you touching that girl.”
“To accuse me is to accuse the Lord, who abides in me.”
“Seems to be the case,” Virgil said.
Percival seemed to get taller as he stood in front of us. He folded his big arms across his wide chest.
“You can’t accuse me,” Percival said.
His voice was firm but not very loud.
“Because of the Lord?” I said.
“We are one,” Percival said. “You cannot accuse us.”
Virgil looked at Percival for a while, the way you’d look at an odd insect you’d found. Percival stood with his arms still folded like he was going to give the Sermon on the Mount. Then he turned and stalked out of the room.
As we walked back to the sheriff’s office, Virgil said, “You believe any of that?”
“Sure,” I said. “Like I believe the world’s flat.”
“Looks flat,” Virgil said.
“But it ain’t.”
“Can’t prove it ain’t,” Virgil said.
“You believe what Percival’s saying?”
Virgil shook his head.
“I think he’d fuck a snake if you held it for him,” Virgil said.
“You think he believes what he’s saying?” I said.
“He might,” Virgil said.
“Think he’s been bothering the women?” I said.
“Something you mentioned,” Virgil said. “You mentioned that if he thought God was in him and he was, you know, part of God, and God was part of him, then he’d feel pretty good about doing anything he wanted.”
“Anything God does is the right thing to do,” I said.
“You think he thinks he’s God?”
“Might,” I said.
“That’s disappointing,” Virgil said.
“ ’Cause you thought you were?”
“Still do,” Virgil said. “Just don’t like it that Percival thinks different.”
“So we know it,” I said.
“Can’t prove it,” Virgil said.
“Mary Beth saying so ain’t enough?”
“Nope,” Virgil said. “Too drunk.”
“We could shoot him anyway, just to be safe,” I said.
“Can’t do that,” Virgil said. “Got to know.”
“How you gonna know?” I said.
“Gotta ask the girl,” he said.
43
ALLIE BROUGHT LAUREL down to the office.
“She got anything to say about Percival,” Virgil said, “better to ask her here.”
Allie sat with Laurel on the couch. I leaned on the doorjamb. Virgil moved his chair to the couch and sat down in front of Laurel.
“You remember me, Virgil,” he said.
She might have nodded.
“I need to ask you some questions about Brother Percival. And I need you to tell me the answers.”
She stared at him as if he hadn’t spoken.
“I can whisper to you,” Virgil said. “And you can whisper back to me if you want to, but I need you to help me with this.”
“Go ahead, honey,” Allie said. “You can do it. It’s important.”
Laurel showed no sign that she heard.
Virgil sat quietly for a time. No one can be as quiet as Virgil Cole, when he wanted to be quiet.
After a little time, he said, “Allie, you and Everett wait outside.”
Allie looked at Laurel.
“You all right with that, honey,” she said.
“We’ll be okay,” Virgil said.
Again, Laurel might have nodded. I opened the office door and stood aside. Allie didn’t seem pleased. But she stood and went out. I followed her and closed the door. We stood near the front window and watched. Virgil took off his hat and put it on the desk behind him. Then he leaned forward and put his face next to Laurel’s and whispered something. He waited. She was motionless. He leaned forward again and whispered and then put his ear next to her lips. The two of them sat that way, with their heads together, Virgil’s hands folded in his lap. I could see that he was whispering.
“What is he doing?” Allie said.
“Whispering,” I said.
“I don’t know if she should be left alone with a man after what happened to her,” Allie said.
“Don’t seem to mind,” I said.
“And Virgil did rescue her,” Allie said.
“All by himself,” I said.
“No, you know what I mean.”
“Virgil was in charge,” I said.
“Virgil’s always in charge,” Allie said.
“True,” I said.
“How’s he know to whisper to her?” Allie said.
“Virgil knows things,” I said.
“How’s he know it’s the right thing to do?”
“Virgil always knows what he’s doing is the right thing to do,” I said. “ ’Cept when it ain’t, and he knows that, too.”
“I guess I still don’t understand him,” Allie said.
“Nothing to understand,” I said. “Virgil don’t never pretend.”
We watched the whispered pantomime through the office window. Laurel was still motionless, her head and Virgil’s close together. I couldn’t tell if she was making any response. But she hadn’t pulled away. I realized that while their heads were close together, Virgil was not touching Laurel.
“I don’t know anyone like him,” Allie said. “Do you?”
“You don’t get to be Virgil Cole,” I said, “being like other folks.”
In the office I saw Virgil nod his head. Then Laurel nodded hers. They still had their heads close to each other.
“Jesus,” I said. “I think they’re talking.”
“My God,” Allie said.
Virgil nodded again. And waited. And nodded again. And whispered. Laurel nodded. Virgil nodded slowly and kept it up, as if Laurel was saying things he agreed with. Then she leaned forward and put her face against his neck and cried. Virgil sat quietly. He didn’t make any move to touch her.
“I better get in there,” Allie said.
“No,” I said.
“She’s crying,” Allie said.
I blocked the doorway.
“No,” I said.
She couldn’t get by me, and she knew it. So we turned back to the window. Inside, Virgil sat quietly while Laurel cried. After a time she stopped and raised her head and sat back. Virgil sat back, too. He reached behind him to the desk and picked up his hat. He put it on and adjusted it, and nodded once at Laurel.
She smiled at him.
“Did she smile?” Allie said.
“Yes,” I said.
He stood and came to the door and opened it.
“We’re done in here,” Virgil said.
“She spoke?” Allie said.
“Yes.”
“What did she say?” Allie said.
“I promised I wouldn’t tell,” Virgil said.
Allie looked like she wanted to argue, but she didn’t. Laurel stood.
Virgil said, “I’ll come by. We’ll take a walk.”
Laurel nodded.
“Maybe tomorrow,” Virgil said.
Laurel nodded.
He looked at Allie.
“Stay with her,” he said.
“I will,” Allie said. “I do.”
She put her arm around Laurel and they went out of the office.
I looked at Virgil. He shrugged slightly. I didn’t ask him what she’d said. I knew he wouldn’t tell me.
44
TWO SADDLE HORSES plodded up Arrow Street, each dragging something. Sitting on the front porch, Virgil and I watched them come. As they got closer we could see that what they were dragging were the bodies of two men.
I stood.
Virgil said, “Let’s see where they’re going.”
We went out to the street as the horses passed and followed them up Arrow Street. The dead men were covered with dirt, and their heads were black with dried blood.
“Scalped,” Virgil said.
I nodded.
“You recognize them?” I said.
“Kinda hard, them being such a mess,” Virgil said.
“Want to guess?” I said.
“J.D. and Kirby,” Virgil said.
“What I’m guessing,” I said.
At Fifth Street, the horses stopped in front of Pike’s Palace and stood at the hitching rail, and drank from the trough. Virgil went and looked at one of the dead men.
“J.D.,” he said.
He looked at the second man.
“Kirby,” he said.
“They were good,” I said.
“Not as good as the Indian,” Virgil said.
“Guess the Indian’s got their power,” I said.
“Guess,” Virgil said.
“No arrow,” I said. “Probably figured it would fall out while they were dragging into town.”
“Scalping sends the same message,” Virgil said.
“Don’t look like they been dragged far,” I said.
“I’d guess edge of town,” Virgil said.
“So he kills them,” I said, “brings them to the edge of town, hitches them up, and lets the horses drag ’em in.”
“Knows they’ll head for home.”
“Which they did,” I said.
Virgil nodded.
“So Pike’d see them,” Virgil said.
“And we would, too,” I said.
Virgil nodded again, looking at the dead men.
“They’re too dirty to make out how he killed them,” I said.
Virgil continued to nod.
“Guess we got to go get him,” Virgil said.
“Yep.”
“Got stuff to do in town,” Virgil said.
“I know.”
Virgil stared at the dead men.
“Got to go get him,” he said again.
Pike came out of the front door of the Palace and looked down at the dead men. Pony came out behind him.
“That fucking Indian,” he said.
“Which one?” Virgil said.
“Buffalo Calf,” Pike said.
“You know it’s him?” Virgil said.
“I know it’s him,” Pike said. “It’s always him, the fuck.”
“Always?” Virgil said.
“I know it’s him,” Pike said. “And I’m through with it. I’m going after him.”
“We’ll do that,” Virgil said.
“The hell you will,” Pike said. “The fucker didn’t kill two of your people.”
“We’ll go after him,” Virgil said.
“You can go with me, you want to,” Pike said, “or not, but I’m riding out of here in an hour with twenty men. And we’re going to bring him back in pieces. Nobody does that to me.”
“Do what you gotta do,” Virgil said. “Me and Everett are gonna need Pony.”
“Pony goes with me,” Pike said.
Virgil looked at Pony.
“I go with Virgil and Everett,” Pony said.
“You work for me, you half-breed cocksucker,” Pike said.
“No more,” Pony said.
“Fuck you, then,” Pike said. “I’ll track him myself.”
He turned and walked back into the Palace.
“Pike ain’t his usual jolly self,” I said.
“Twenty men,” Pony said. “Stampede. Be lucky he don’t kill them all.”
Virgil nodded, looking at the empty doorway where Pike had gone.
“Be lucky,” Virgil said.
45
WE SAT OUR HORSES on the other side of the ford and looked at the muddle of hoofprints that Pike and his posse had left. The pack mule took the opportunity to graze.
“Don’t make tracking the Indian so easy,” Virgil said.
“I find him,” Pony said.
“Pike will assume he’s running,” I said.
“Not running,” Pony said.
“He’ll shadow Pike,” Virgil said.
“If we’re right about him,” I said.
“So, we shadow Pike, we might come across him.”
“Might shadow us,” Pony said.
“He and Pike got a history,” Virgil said. “I ain’t saying he got no interest in us. But they got something between them.”
“Maybe get everybody,” Pony said.
“Might be his plan,” I said.
Virgil was looking at the tracks of twenty horses.
“Pike much of an Indian fighter, when you was with him?”
“Very good soldier,” Pony said. “Kill everybody.”
“And if Buffalo Calf wants to be tracked, Pike won’t have much trouble.”
“No track like me,” Pony said. “But can track. I teach him.”
“When you was soldiering, Everett, what you do with a troop of soldiers like this?”
“They’d be in squads,” I said. “Non com for each. I’d have scouts ahead, maybe some outriders to each flank.”
“Let’s follow along, see if he does that.”
“Think you can track them, Pony?”
“Little girl we save?” Pony said. “She could track them.”
“If we’re right,” Virgil said, “the Indian’s trying to lead Pike into a trap. Be better if we didn’t ride right into it behind them.”
“They rode out at sunup,” I said.
Virgil glanced at the sun.
“Got ’bout two hours on us,” he said.
He looked at the horizon in all directions.
“Land’s flat for a ways,” he said. “Don’t see no place he could hide and watch.”
“So Buffalo Calf has got to trust Pike to follow him,” I said, “until they get into country where Buffalo Calf can spy.”
“You know this country, Pony?” Virgil said.
“Some,” Pony said. “Northwest, maybe two days’ ride, country get rougher.”
“That where you’d go,” Virgil said, “you was gonna ambush somebody?”
“Yes,” Pony said.
Virgil looked at the sun again.
“We’ll follow them,” he said. “See if they turn that way.”
“And if they do?” I said.
“Maybe strike out on our own,” Virgil said.
He clucked to his horse. The mule heard him and pricked his ears forward and stopped grazing. We rode out after Pike, and the mule trotted on behind us. We all had.45 Winchesters, in the saddle boot, and we all wore.45 Colts. Made carrying cartridges easier. I had the eight-gauge. We all rode together. The mule could have followed Pike’s trail.
About midday we came to the place where they’d stopped and reorganized. We sat our horses while Pony rode around the area, looking at tracks.
“Okay,” Pony said. “He send scouts.”
He pointed out the tracks of two individual horses.
He rode around the area some more.
“Outriders,” he said, pointing.
“Okay,” I said. “He’s getting organized.”
“Good soldier,” Pony said. “Know how to fight.”
“Probably got them broken into squads now,” I said.
“No way to tell,” Pony said. “Horses all walk over each other tracks in troop.”
“He actually got twenty men?” Virgil said.
“Cannot tell,” Pony said. “Too many.”
“Let’s assume twenty,” I said. “He sent two scouts out front, and two flankers. Leaves sixteen. So he breaks the rest of them into three squads of five. And he makes sixteen.”
“All he needs is a damned guidon,” Virgil said.
“It’s the way he’s learned to fight,” I said.
“There’s enough of them to be stupid,” Virgil said.
“They figure Buffalo Calf won’t turn and fight them?” I said.
“Yep.”
“So they could ride right on into an ambush,” I said.
“Could,” Virgil said
“Maybe Buffalo Calf has some friends,” I said.
“None before,” Pony said.
“Any Comanche villages around?” Virgil said.
Pony shook his head.
“Mostly reservation Indians now,” Pony said.
“Don’t mean they always stay on the reservation,” Virgil said.
“Nope,” Pony said.
“You think he knows we’re out here?” I said to Pony.
“Probably think we with Pike,” Pony said. “Even mission-school Indian don’t understand white people much.”