Robert B. Parker's Revelation Page 15

Virgil nodded a little as he thought about what Tillary said.

  “Know if Lonnigan ever talked to the law about the other men,” Virgil said. “Offer up information in respect to the others he was in cahoots with?”

  “In an effort to make sentencing easier on himself?” Tillary said.

  Virgil nodded.

  “Not that I know of,” Tillary said. “He never said much. Hard to get a word out of him most times.”

  “And none of the others were ever caught?” Virgil said.

  “Don’t think so,” Tillary said.

  “You ever hear names, who they might be, how many?” I said. “Not that names ’mount to a hill of beans when it comes to robbers and killers, but do you know any details?”

  “I do not,” Tillary said.

  “He was tried and convicted in Mexico?” Virgil said.

  Tillary nodded.

  “Yes,” he said.

  Virgil looked to me and shook his head some.

  “Be better than a good idea for us to follow the path,” I said. “Get ourselves to San Cristóbal and catch the train back to Appaloosa.”

  47

  Tillary stood out front of the warden’s home as we mounted up for San Cristóbal.

  “I appreciate you fellas being here,” Tillary said. “Not sure how I’d’ve handled this without you.”

  “Sure you would have managed,” I said.

  “At least you got a few back,” he said.

  “Was not without some consequences,” I said.

  “No, I know,” he said. “Maybe the governor will let me keep my job. Though, after this, I’m not all that certain I want to keep the goddamn job.”

  “I understand that,” I said.

  Tillary smiled, I think for the very first time.

  “You do?” Tillary said. “You mean there is something better than being out here on the Hot Box on the Hubs of Hell?”

  “There might be,” I said.

  “I think those two young people had no business being out here,” Tillary said. “The goddamn devil himself got to them.”

  Virgil said nothing as he looked off, watching a tornado of dust skitter across the flat land in front of the house.

  “I should have new telegraph equipment soon, so please let me know what happens,” Tillary said.

  “Will do,” Virgil said.

  “What will happen to her?” he said.

  Virgil shook his head.

  “Hard to say.”

  “Shame,” Tillary said.

  “Is,” Virgil said.

  “She’s in serious trouble,” Tillary said.

  “That much we know,” Virgil said. “But what is truth and what is not truth in that letter and her involvement is hard to say.”

  “I guess that will be up to a judge to determine,” Tillary said. “If she is lucky enough to get to that. As far as Lonnigan/Driggs is concerned, I don’t give a damn.”

  Virgil nodded a bit.

  “I think Scholes was most likely accurate in his account of her, I’m afraid.”

  “Most likely,” Virgil said.

  “I’d say ‘Poor girl,’ but I guess I should not,” Tillary said. “If it is true, she damn sure has to be held accountable.”

  Virgil turned his horse toward the road.

  “Hope we can catch up with them,” Virgil said. “And follow the process of the law . . . We will let you know.”

  Tillary nodded some as he took a few steps back.

  Virgil said, “Mr. Tillary.” Then tipped his hat and started off down the road.

  “Sorry for your loss here, Mr. Tillary,” I said. “Take care.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “You boys be safe.”

  “Do our best,” I said.

  I caught up to Virgil and we rode side by side for a bit. I looked back to Tillary standing in front of the warden’s house, then looked to Virgil.

  “One thing I did not mention about Driggs,” I said.

  Virgil looked to me.

  “I didn’t want to say it in front of him back there, but Driggs was also involved with a woman, kind of the same situation. A woman who belonged to someone else, way back when.”

  “He’s got a pattern,” Virgil said.

  “That woman was our CO’s wife,” I said.

  “That’s why he was let go,” Virgil said. “Relieved of duty.”

  “No. The reason was for killing Indians, for his ruthlessness.”

  “Don’t imagine it helped him none, fucking the boss’s wife,” Virgil said.

  “No, it didn’t, but what happened was, later, after Driggs was let go, she was found dead.”

  Virgil looked at me.

  “He did it?”

  “I don’t know. He was nowhere to be found.”

  “But you think Driggs did it?”

  “Not for sure, I would not have put it past him, but our CO was blamed for it.”

  “Maybe the CO did it,” Virgil said.

  “Could have, I guess.”

  “Damn sure had a motive,” Virgil said.

  “He did.”

  “Convicted?” Virgil said.

  “No,” I said. “But it ruined his career, his life.”

  “Seems nothing but bad swarmed around this goddamn Driggs,” Virgil said.

  “And then some,” I said.

  We rode for a moment and said nothing, then Virgil looked at me.

  “What we saw,” he said, “them two walking into the Boston House seemed just like two proper face cards of the same suit.”

  “They did,” I said.

  “Cards is goddamn tricky, though,” Virgil said.

  “Driggs is goddamn tricky,” I said. “That’s a fact. They could be long gone, out of Appaloosa by now.”

  “Then again, maybe there was a reason for them going to Appaloosa?” Virgil said.

  “Figure we should wire Chastain to let him know he has one of the escaped convicts right under his nose?” I said.

  I could tell Virgil was thinking about that, but he didn’t say anything as we rode.

  “Don’t think Chastain should be fucking with Driggs, Virgil,” I said.

  “No,” Virgil said. “I thought the same thing.”

  “I suppose the one exception would be if Chastain found out that Driggs and Eleanor were still there and if they tried to leave town, then and only then should they stop them.”

  Virgil nodded.

  “Then again, Chastain would have to identify who we are talking about.”

  “Not sure that is a good idea, either,” Virgil said.

  48

  Driggs had grown very comfortable with the surroundings of Appaloosa and was venturing out freely. He had no care in the world and was not worried about who he might bump into. He was ready for whomever, whatever, whenever, but was—as always—in no hurry.

  The day had been a hot one and the two of them, Driggs and the woman, stayed in the cool room, in the bed. After some twisting, digging, triggering, and ruling, Driggs got up and took a long pull of whiskey. He looked out the window, watching the good folks of Appaloosa going this way and that. He liked to watch out the window, the unsuspecting masses, those who had no idea just what the fuck was going on. He was growing fond of the city and its unsuspecting citizens.

  He’d grown accustomed to the hotel room routine, too. Like the days previous when he got out of bed after he was done, he looked at her—like he was looking at her now—sprawled out and covered with sweat. He liked that. She was in every way ripe, and he enjoyed that about his princess, but most important, he admired her for her guileless fervor.

  “Want me cleaned up?” she said in a purring voice.

  He just stared at her and said nothing.

  “You like me clean,” she said.

  He remained silent, just looking at her.

  “What about when I’m dirty?”

  He smiled.

  “But you like me clean and smelling like a rose, don’t you?” she said with a sly smile. “Don’t y
ou?”

  He smiled again, with his eyes now, boring into her.

  “Wash me?” she said.

  Driggs took another pull off the whiskey, looked out the window for a moment, then moved to the bed. He stood over her, looking down on her. Then he scooped up her naked body and held her, just looking at her. Then he turned, walked with her in his arms, and gently placed her in the bathtub in the corner. He slid his fingers through her sweaty hair, gathered a handful of her thick mane, and leaned her head back so he could have a good look at her eyes, but said nothing. He just looked at her and she just looked back at him.

  “You make me hungry,” she said.

  “I know,” he said.

  Driggs pulled back her hair some more, stretching her long, sensuous neck. He caressed her neck, then . . . laid his princess slowly back in the tub.

  “Rain . . .” she said, with the anticipation of a little girl.

  She closed her eyes. Driggs stared at her, then reached up and pulled the cord. The cord opened a valve allowing the rooftop tank water to shower over her body. She sat up straight when the cool water hit her hot body.

  “Oh,” she said.

  Then she relaxed and let the water pour over her head.

  “My God, that feels good,” she said.

  After a decent amount of water rained down, Driggs pulled the valve closed, got the rose-scented soap, and began to lather her body. He slowly washed her, every inch of her: her sharp shoulders, her narrow back, and her long legs. She lay back, enjoying his gentle touch. Then he opened the valve again and rinsed her. After, she stepped out of the tub and he finished by toweling her dry. Then he popped his princess with a sharp slap on her butt—signaling that her bath was complete.

  She turned to him, looking up at him. He leaned down and kissed her.

  “My turn,” she said. “To clean you.”

  Driggs smiled. He took a drink, then moved over and stepped his big frame into the tub and lowered into the soapy water. Then she reciprocated, and just as Driggs had washed her, she washed his hard body, scrubbing him clean.

  “What are we going to do?” she said.

  He looked to her and smiled.

  “We’re doing it.”

  “Are we going to stay in Appaloosa forever?”

  “Forever?” he said. “That’s an eternity, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” she said.

  “No,” he said. “Not forever, not for an eternity.”

  “Once your business is done here,” she said, “maybe we could go someplace back east, someplace more civilized.”

  She lingered over the bullet holes in his back.

  “Tell me,” she said.

  “What?”

  “I want to know about these,” she said. “About who shot you and why.”

  He just looked at her and said nothing.

  “Don’t you want to tell me about these?” she said as she circled the washcloth gently over the scars. “’Bout what happened?”

  Driggs looked back to her, smiled.

  “You know what I’d rather do?” he said.

  “What?”

  Driggs reached over and grabbed the straight-edged razor lying next to the tub . . .

  49

  She looked to the razor and recoiled.

  He smiled.

  “I’d like you to shave me,” he said. “I see my whiskers have left you a little raw in places.”

  After he was shaved, cleaned, and toweled, he rolled a cigarette. Then he sat on the bed, struck a match, and lit the tip. He took a few good puffs, then leaned back against the headboard. He smoked and watched her dry her hair as she patted it smooth between thin white cotton towels.

  “We’re clean,” she said with a giggle as she sat on the edge of the bed. “We’re clean.”

  Driggs just looked at her. He marveled at her delicate features and at the fluidity of her movement. He wondered about her fight and her will to live, her will to survive—what it would be like to strangle her.

  —

  Later, in the late afternoon, Driggs strolled with her up Vandervoort Avenue and stopped into Allie’s shop to pick up the altered dress he’d purchased.

  Allie and Margie were excited to see the couple. Once in the shop, Driggs sat like the perfect gentleman he purported to be as Allie and Margie led his beautiful princess behind the screen and helped her out of one dress and into the brand-new one.

  Driggs looked around the room as he waited. He was as calm as could be, but there was a small fire beginning to burn somewhere deep inside him. He could not deny that. He was accustomed to the fire, though, it was his friend, perhaps his only real friend. Oh, she tried and she believed—like the others before her—that she was endeared. And on one hand the princess was most assuredly endeared, she was in the lap of care and consideration, but on the other hand she was dangerously far from it. She was more endangered than endeared.

  His eyes wandered around the shop. There were delicate hats with lace and a few hanging dresses up front near the windows. There were photographs from catalogs arranged in managed clusters and tacked to the walls. Shelves stacked with horsehair, wire, and netting covered the back wall next to the screened dressing area.

  He looked up to the beams, then trained his eyes toward the front of the building, to the entrance made from brand-new bricks that were laid in a handsome arch over the door. He thought about the design and the integrity and the craftsmanship of the arch. Slowly he turned and looked at himself in the mirror. He stared at his handsome self, long and hard. Then he smiled and nodded to the reflection of the man in the mirror. It was like he was acknowledging an old pal or perhaps a new acquaintance. He stared at the man for a long moment. His reverie was broken momentarily when he heard the women giggle, but then Driggs was brought right back into looking at the man in the mirror staring back at him. Driggs continued staring at himself, then said out loud, “The anticipation is killing me . . .”

  “Patience,” the princess said from behind the dressing screen.

  She then poked her head around the corner of the screen and said with a smile, “Good things are worth waiting for, my dear.” He could see the ribbon edging of her cotton camisole draped around her slender collar bone.

  Then, like a turtle, her head disappeared back behind the screen, leaving Driggs only to smile at the man in the mirror smiling back at him.

  Then she stepped out wearing a yellow silk organza dress with a deep and revealing décolletage and moved in front of the mirror. The dress’s hem was trimmed in deep plum brocade with sewn seed pearls that rustled as the princess crossed the shop.

  Driggs whistled and said, “Look at you.”

  “A perfect fit,” Margie said.

  “You look like a princess in that dress,” Allie said.

  “Looks like? Why, she is a princess,” Driggs said, then winked at Allie.

  Allie blushed as the presumptive princess turned to Driggs.

  “Do you like, really?” she said.

  “Very much,” he said.

  “You’re not just saying that?”

  “Come here,” he said.

  She walked to him, taking delicate steps, almost childlike steps, lifting her skirt to reveal several layers of laced and embroidered petticoats underneath, and stopped in front of him. He reached up with his muscled arm, slid his strong fingers behind her dainty neck, and pulled her to him.

  “Look at me,” he said with a smile. “I never say anything I don’t mean. You of all people should know that.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He remained holding her by the back of her head. She bit her lip a little as he stared at her for a steady moment.

  Margie looked to Allie.

  “Well,” Allie said. “We are so delighted . . . our first customer. Thank you.”

  Driggs released the princess’s neck and sat back in the chair, looking at her.

  “Turn around,” he said.

  She turned, then he smiled and looked to
Allie.

  “Exquisite.”

  “She is,” Allie said.

  “Would you like to change back to your dress or do you prefer to wear this now?” Margie said. “You look so truly lovely, it’d be almost a crime not to wear it out.”

  The princess looked to Driggs.

  “I think you should wear it another time, dear,” he said. ”For a special occasion.”

  “Agreed,” she said.

  “Won’t you need matching gloves and this perfect little thing?” said Margie, picking out a small beaded purse from the display counter at the back.

  “Oh, my, what is that?” said the princess.

  “It’s a reticule,” said Margie. “To keep your handkerchief and perfume, of course.”

  “Of course,” said Allie. “It completes the ensemble.”

  Driggs turned his head slowly and looked to Allie. His eyes wandered down below her waist, then slowly moved up to her eyes.

  “Good,” he said. “We’re in agreement. Let us complete the ensemble.”

  Allie’s lips quivered into a smile.

  50

  The ride Virgil and I took was hot and dry, and it took the better part of two days to get to San Cristóbal. We arrived in the city just prior to sunset and our first stop was at the Western Union office. We wired Sheriff Chastain straightaway in Appaloosa to let him know about the situation regarding the escapee Driggs and the warden’s wife.

  In the telegram, Virgil sternly instructed Chastain to make certain all law enforcement stayed clear of the Boston House. Virgil next gave Chastain a detailed description of Driggs and Eleanor. He ordered Chastain to personally be on the lookout for the pair but to make damn certain the couple did not notice him. He instructed Chastain to be very careful and that if he did identify Driggs and Eleanor to avoid any and all confrontation with them. Virgil commanded him not to inquire with any of the Boston House staff regarding the guest. He stated he did not want any employees to draw unnecessary attention to themselves. He also instructed Chastain to make no attempt to arrest the couple, unless they attempted to depart Appaloosa—and, most important, to exercise extreme caution.

  The operator in Appaloosa was Willoughby and he let us know he would deliver the message to the sheriff and that we should expect a reply within the hour.