Brimstone - Паркер Роберт Б. - Страница 4

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“You believe her?” Virgil said.

“I believe what’s happened to her,” I said.

“Think she can change?” Virgil said.

“Believe she wants to,” I said.

“Think she can?”

“Don’t know, Virgil.”

Virgil turned slowly from the window and looked at me in the near darkness.

“Everett,” Virgil said. “You killed a man for her and me. I want to know where you stand.”

“You know where I stand, Virgil,” I said. “Been with you near twenty years. Plan to be with you as far as we go.”

“Think I should take her back?” Virgil said.

“Don’t recall that she asked you to,” I said.

“You think I should?” Virgil said. “I need to know what you think.”

“We don’t have to leave her here,” I said. “We can take her someplace where she gets a decent chance.”

“But you don’t think I should take her back.”

“She is what she is,” I said. “Been what she is for a long time.”

“And you don’t think she’ll change,” Virgil said.

“Don’t think she’s got anything to change to,” I said.

“You don’t think I should take her back,” Virgil said.

“No,” I said. “I don’t.”

Allie’s breathing was shallow in the silence. She seemed like an injured sparrow, sitting cross-legged on the bed in a shirt much too big for her, staring at her hands.

“No,” Virgil said. His voice sounded hoarse. “I don’t think so, either… but I got to do it.”

I stood.

“It’s yours to say,” I told Virgil. “I’m going to bunk in the livery stable tonight.”

Neither Virgil nor Allie said anything. Neither one moved as I left the room and closed the door behind me.

WE TOOK ALLIE TO BREAKFAST in the cook tent. With her dress washed and her hair combed, she looked a little better than she had when we dragged her out of the Barbary Coast Cafe. But she didn’t look good.

“I got to get some new clothes, Virgil,” she said.

“Next town,” Virgil said.

“We leavin’ this one?”

“Yep,” Virgil said. “Can’t make a livin’ here.”

“Virgil,” Allie said, “I don’t even have any underwear.”

“Next town,” Virgil said.

His eyes moved slightly and stopped. Then moved again. I was used to Virgil looking at things. If it was worth mentioning, he’d mention it.

“We need money,” he said.

“Sell the horses?”

“Yes, livery stable will probably buy them. Take what you can get; I don’t want to wait around here.”

“Saddles? bridles?”

“All of it,” Virgil said. “And don’t waste time. Want to catch today’s train.”

Virgil had seen something.

“On my way,” I said.

Man doesn’t sell his horse if he don’t have to. The livery-man knew he had me in a box and got the horses and gear for a lot less than they were worth. Still, it would cover us for a bit. With the money in my pocket, I walked back up past the cook tent. Virgil and Allie weren’t there. I went on to the hotel. When I got there they were packed, my stuff and Virgil’s. Allie didn’t have any. There wasn’t much. Just the clothes would fit in a saddlebag. Virgil didn’t run, so it must have to do with Allie. It was one of the many things I didn’t like about Allie. I was used to Virgil being Virgil. He was always Virgil. But with Allie he was different. I didn’t like different.

We went downstairs and walked to Los Lobos, where Virgil gave notice and shook hands with Cates. Then we went back out to the street and started toward the railroad station. Across the street a group of men watched us come out. And, when we started down the street they walked along with us on the other side. One of them was the fat man with the scar and the long hair that Virgil had buffaloed when we’d taken Allie out of the Barbary Coast Cafe.

Virgil paid them no mind as we walked.

“I count six,” Virgil said to me softly. “Anything develops, I’ll take the first man. You take the last, and we’ll work our way to the middle.”

I nodded. At this range, with the eight-gauge, I might get two at a time.

“Virgil,” Allie said. “What is it.”

“Nothing to worry about,” Virgil said.

Allie looked for the first time at the men across the street.

“Oh my God, Virgil, it’s Pig.”

“That his name?” Virgil said.

“Don’t let him take me back.”

“Nope,” Virgil said.

“Everett…”

“We’re fine, Allie,” I said. “We’re fine.”

Pig was carrying a big old Navy Colt in a gun belt that sagged under his belly. There was dried blood on his shirt. It appeared that he hadn’t changed it since Virgil hit him. The left side of Pig’s face was swollen and dark, with a long scab where Virgil’s front sight had dragged across the cheekbone. The five men with him were all carrying. I thumbed back both hammers on the eight-gauge.

We kept walking our parallel walk. Allie held tight to Virgil’s left arm. At the end of the street was the Barbary Coast Cafe, and across the street from that the railroad station, and beyond that the river. And nothing else. It was obvious where we were going.

“I need you to let go of my arm now, Allie,” Virgil said.

His voice was quiet. He could have been asking her to pass him the sugar. He was Virgil Cole again. Even with the stakes as high as they would ever get for him, he was now Virgil Cole. It was a relief. At the end of the street we stopped and the six men stopped across from us. The railroad station was on their side. We looked at one another. Pig was at the far left end of the line that now faced us.

“Hey, Whoreman,” Pig shouted. “Whatcha gonna do now?”

“Same deal,” Virgil said to me. “Pig goes first. You start at the right end.”

“Yep.”

“Allie,” Virgil said. “Any shooting, you lie flat down in the street, you unnerstand?”

“Virgil…”

“Unnerstand?” Virgil said again.

His voice was still calm, but it had flattened a little.

“Yes,” Allie said in a small voice.

“Okay,” Virgil said, and stepped off the boardwalk and into the street.

Allie moved behind me. She was mumbling softly to herself, and after a moment I realized she was praying. Virgil walked straight across the street toward the six men, and specifically toward Pig.

I knew what he was doing. Never let it be you and them, Virgil always said. Always make it between you and some of them.

“I want my whore back,” Pig said.

Virgil kept walking. Pig hadn’t expected it. He wasn’t quite sure what he should do.

“You think you gonna hit me again when I ain’t ready?” Pig said.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Virgil said.

Virgil didn’t speak very loudly, but all of us heard him, and his voice made Pig flinch back a half step. I brought the eight-gauge up to a kind of parade rest position. The men to Pig’s left moved a little away. Virgil was close now. If Pig was going to make his move he’d need to do it now, before Virgil was on top of him. He knew it, and tried to draw his gun. Virgil shot him before Pig got his hand on the butt. Without any pause Virgil shot the man next to him. I picked off the two at the other end of the line. The remaining two didn’t know whether to shoot at me or Virgil and ended up running away.

Time slows down in a gunfight. Even so, including Virgil’s walk across the street it had lasted less than a minute. Virgil reloaded and went to each of the down men to be sure they were dead. Then he holstered his gun and walked back.

“Train comes at noon,” Virgil said.

And we walked on to the station.

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