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  Virgil glanced to me, then shook his head.

  “Not a good idea,” Virgil said.

  “Baptiste hands are responsible for the missing workers,” Hodge said. “And we aim to reckon this situation, it is what we were hired to do.”

  “You can best help us by not getting in the way.”

  He shook his head.

  “No, that’s not gonna happen,” he said.

  “It is,” Virgil said.

  Virgil set down his coffee and moved toward the men a few steps. The big man stared at Virgil longer than he should have.

  “We will do what we were hired to do,” Hodge said, showing his teeth, “and we’ll go from there.”

  “Go to jail from there,” Virgil said.

  “We were hired to protect the McCormicks and their assets, and the men that are missing and presumed dead are part of the assets that we were hired to protect.”

  “Might be a good idea for you to take care of your assets first,” Virgil said.

  “Or what?” Hodge said.

  “Find your assets locked up.”

  Hodge glared at Virgil, then me, then Lloyd, then Virgil again.

  “Tell me your name again?” he said.

  “I didn’t,” Virgil said, then nodded to Lloyd. “He did.”

  Hodge’s eyes narrowed.

  “Virgil Cole,” Lloyd said. “Marshal Virgil Cole.”

  Hodge nodded slowly as he stared at Virgil. He tipped his hat.

  “Be seeing you, Virgil Cole.”

  Virgil dropped his chin.

  Hodge turned and walked out, followed by his partners.

  “He don’t care for you,” Lloyd said.

  “What gave you that idea?” Virgil said.

  “Just a feeling,” Lloyd said.

  14

  The night was warm and bugs were swirling under the streetlamps along Appaloosa Avenue. There weren’t too many folks moving about where I stood under the awning across the street from the theater.

  Everything seemed to be calm for a Friday night, until the sudden sound of applause erupted through the doors of the theater. The clapping echoed out into the street.

  Soon the theatergoers came streaming out. Groups and couples walked out, going this way and that. They were animated, talking and laughing and recapping their evening’s experience. Most of what I overheard was about how wonderful a performer Martha Kathryn was. How talented and beautiful and funny and what a great dancer she was. I agreed.

  In a short time most all had moved on and only the autograph seekers remained. Then after a while through the window I saw her come into the lobby with the other cast members. She was smiling and talking and signing programs, one after another after another.

  After most all the folks began to thin out, I started to walk across the street, all set to greet her. Then the door opened and Henri Baptiste stepped out with Martha Kathryn.

  I stayed where I was in the shadow of the awning as they turned and moved off up the sidewalk. After they walked a ways, Henri offered his arm and she took it. She was almost a full foot taller than Henri. I’ll be goddamned, I thought.

  I remained in the shadow, watching them. Then, as I was about to move off in the opposite direction, I saw the two men. They were the men who came into the sheriff’s office earlier with Edward Hodge, R. W. Gibbs and Hugh Kane, and right away I knew they were following Baptiste and Martha Kathryn.

  I stayed on the opposite side of the street, remaining in the shadows, and tailed them. They stayed back, making sure they were not seen as they followed their quarry. The couple turned up Main Street and walked some blocks, headed presumably toward the Hotel Windsor.

  When they got to the hotel, Gibbs and Kane did not follow Baptiste and Martha Kathryn inside. They held their position, watching through the windows.

  And I stayed a few buildings away, watching them. After a bit they turned and looked around. I stood still across the street in the shadow of an alley, observing them.

  Then they moved off the porch and walked across the street, closer to where I stood. I moved farther into the shadows, making certain I was not seen. I stood where I could keep an eye on them. They lit cigarettes, settled in, and sat on the boardwalk.

  They must have rolled and smoked a dozen cigarettes as they sat there across from the hotel. I was curious as to what the hell they were up to, what they were going to do. Were they going to wait on Baptiste, were they out to scare him, harm him, or, worse, were they poised to ambush him, kill him? And at the same time, I wondered, too, what Martha Kathryn was doing with Baptiste.

  Were they out on the back patio having an after-theater drink, like we had with her? Or had she taken him up to her room for a good time? I wondered if she knew he was a wealthy man who had become wealthier by striking gold. Gold. Makes people do things, things they might not otherwise do, I thought.

  My mind was racing thinking about Martha Kathryn fucking someone else. Then I thought, But, hell, I don’t even know her, she can fuck whoever she wants to, gold or no gold.

  Then, after another cigarette, Gibbs and Kane got up and crossed the street and walked to the hotel. They stood on the porch, glanced around some, then entered.

  I moved out and crossed to the hotel and eased up on the porch to have a peek through the window.

  They stood in the lobby, where a few people were sitting. A desk clerk said something to them and they shook their heads, then the clerk smiled and moved away.

  I could see through into the double doors leading to the busy patio. Martha Kathryn was sitting with her back to me. And I could see Baptiste, too, sitting in front of her, facing toward the front, laughing and talking with her.

  Then Kane turned as if he was going to exit and I saw he had a pistol tucked into his belt. Gibbs grabbed his arm and said something. Then Kane nodded and the two of them started for the patio. I thought they’d be fools to ambush Baptiste here, in front of other people.

  Regardless, they had guns, or at least one of them did, and that was enough. There was no reason to be too little too late, so I pulled my Colt and entered the hotel.

  As they reached the door leading to the patio, I called out to them.

  “That’s far enough,” I said.

  A few people gasped when they saw I held my Colt out at arm’s length, pointed at Kane and Gibbs.

  “Do not take another step.”

  The men turned to me as I moved to them.

  “Get your hands up,” I said. “Right goddamn now.”

  Now everyone in the place was staring at me, Kane, and Gibbs and what was happening.

  “Not sure why,” Gibbs said. “We ain’t done nothing.”

  “Up.”

  They raised their hands up and I moved to Kane.

  “Do not make a move or I will drop you.”

  I eased up to Kane, keeping my Colt to his head, and reached in and pulled his pistol from his belt. Then looked to Gibbs.

  “You, you carrying, too?”

  Gibbs did not answer.

  “Are you?”

  “What if I was?”

  “Lie to me and you’ll be sorry. Likely dead.”

  Gibbs nodded and I moved to him. With my Colt to his head, I removed his pistol.

  “You are both under arrest.”

  “Thank God, Marshal,” Baptiste said, as he started to get out of his chair.

  “Sit down and shut up,” I said.

  “But,” Baptiste said.

  “Do like I tell you.”

  He wanted to say something else but he did what I said and lowered into his seat.

  “Now, you two, we are going to take a little walk,” I said. “And I will follow you, you know the way.”

  I could sense everyone in the crowd was focused on me, including Martha Kathryn. I could feel
her eyes on me, but I did not glance at her. I remained focused on the men and we walked out the front door of the hotel.

  15

  I got money,” the big fellow said. “I got paid today and I got plenty of money.”

  “I don’t care,” the bartender said.

  The bartender was big. Way bigger than the big fellow he was standing in front of as he pointed to the door.

  “Not gonna tell you again,” the bartender said. “Get outta here before I throw your ass out in the street by the seat of your damn breeches.”

  “Okay, okay, I’m going, no need to get all mad, I was just having a little fun with her.”

  “Not going to tell you again.”

  “Okay, damn, come on, kid, let’s get the hell outta here, too damn stuffy in here anyway.”

  The big fellow staggered from the saloon, followed by the kid.

  “What an asshole that sumbitch is,” the big fellow said. “I should have just let him have it.”

  “You want to go back?” the kid said with a grin. “It’s early yet. I can watch you let him have it.”

  “Naw, fuck him. Fuck it. I got some whiskey,” the big fellow said. “Let’s drink some whiskey.”

  The big fellow pulled a bottle from his coat pocket as he walked unsteadily into the narrow passageway between the saloon and the building next to it. The kid glanced around, then followed the big fellow. The big fellow took a swig, passed the bottle to the kid, then stopped and fumbled with the buttons of his trousers.

  “She wasn’t much to look at no ways,” he said as he relieved himself. “She liked you, though, kid.”

  He watched himself pee. Then he chuckled and raised his face to the sky.

  “Yep, she was batting her eyes at you. But you get that all the time, don’t you?”

  He grinned at the kid.

  “Pretty like you are. You are. You are pretty . . . Let you touch my dick for a nickel.”

  “That all it’s worth?”

  The big one laughed as he continued peeing. The kid walked past him toward the rear of the building.

  “Where you going?”

  “Sit and drink some whiskey,” the kid said.

  When the big fella finished, he stumbled out and met the kid behind the buildings of the town square. The kid walked on, and the big fellow followed.

  They sat on empty crates behind a livery stable and the kid passed the bottle to the big fellow. The big one’s eyes were watery and his mouth stayed wet from habitually licking his lips.

  “We should have both gave it to her,” the big fellow said.

  The kid laughed.

  “What’s so goddamn funny?”

  “Just that,” the kid said.

  The big fellow grinned at him and leaned back.

  “Ain’t you ever done it like that, with a buddy?”

  The kid laughed again.

  “Don’t laugh. Nothing wrong with it,” the big fellow said.

  “I didn’t say there was.”

  The big fellow’s tongue did a loop about his lips, then he took a pull from the bottle and passed it to the kid.

  “You’d’a liked it, wouldn’t you?”

  The kid shrugged.

  “You would. She’d’a liked it. Us filling her up.”

  “Maybe she would.”

  “We can find us another one. Maybe one that ain’t so fucking ugly. I got money.”

  The kid shook his head.

  “No need.”

  “There is always a need. Hell. I know a gal that would be up for it. She’ll be in town tomorrow. She comes on Saturdays. She works at the Saturday market, selling her family goods. What her family don’t likely know is she also sticks around and sells her own goods on Saturday evening before she returns to the farm like fucking nothing happened. As long as she can make a little, she’ll give a lot, and thing is, she fucking likes it and she’s a hell of a lot prettier than that dumb bitch in there that got me in trouble.”

  “Won’t be here tomorrow.”

  “Where will you be?”

  “I’m just passing through.”

  “Ain’t everybody?” the big fellow said.

  “Well, I don’t know about everybody, but that’s what I’m doing.”

  “We are all just passing through. That is what the Good Lord said. We are just here temporary.”

  “You believe that shit?” the kid said.

  “Not shit, it’s the written Word, God’s Word. Ain’t you Christian? Don’t you believe in God?”

  “There is no God.”

  “Fuck yes there is too a God,” the big fellow said with an almost belligerent tone to his voice. “My daddy is a preacher. I know all about God and Jesus and all and the different books.”

  “I did not get none of that growing up, so consider yourself lucky that you got spoon-fed that malarkey before you had sense enough to think for yourself.”

  “Bullshit. Mark and Matthew and Luke and John and Jesus and Mother Mary is God’s Word. And the Old Testament, too, Genesis, Ezekiel, Adam and Eve and Cain and Abel. Shit, you should read it.”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t you want to go to Heaven?”

  “That what you want?” the kid said. “You want to go to Heaven?”

  “Hell yes, it beats the other damn direction.”

  The kid took a swig and passed the bottle.

  “Whatever. But I’m currently expected elsewhere.”

  “Who’s expecting you?”

  “Well, the thing is, they don’t know I’m coming.”

  The big fellow frowned.

  “Fuck, kid.”

  “What?”

  “How the hell can you be expected if they don’t know you’re coming?”

  “Well, it’s just that it’s been a long time coming.”

  The big one shook his head.

  “That don’t make no sense.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “How much money do you have?” the kid said.

  “Least twenty-five dollars.”

  “That’s good,” the kid said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “’Cause I’m gonna need to get me a few things ’fore I take off.”

  16

  The following morning, Virgil and I were drinking coffee in the sheriff’s office. Lloyd, Book, and a few of the young deputies were also present as Hodge and James McCormick walked in. Hodge moved toward Virgil, with furious red eyes.

  “You arrested my men?”

  Virgil shook his head.

  “I did not.”

  Hodge squinted, then glanced at James.

  “What do you mean?” James said.

  “We heard,” Hodge said, “that you arrested them and they are locked up.”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “From the Frenchman himself,” Hodge said.

  “I saw Baptiste on Appaloosa Avenue,” James said. “And he told me and he threatened me.”

  “How did he threaten you?”

  “He told me that if any of my men came near him again I could expect more trouble than them just being arrested.”

  “So,” Virgil said, “your men got near Baptiste and it pissed him off?”

  “I’m not sure what exactly happened.”

  “Not sure?” Virgil said.

  Hodge eyed the closed door that led into the hall of cells.

  “So they are not here?” he said.

  “I didn’t say that,” Virgil said.

  Hodge squinted at Virgil with meaner eyes than he’d entered with.

  “You said you didn’t arrest them.”

  “I didn’t. Everett did, didn’t you, Evere
tt?”

  “I did.”

  “Goddamn it. Why?”

  “For one thing, carrying firearms,” I said. “That’s against the laws here within the Appaloosa limits.”

  “Well goddamn it,” Hodge said. “Why didn’t you say that?”

  “You know the law,” I said.

  “You said ‘one thing,’” James said. “What is the other thing? Is there something else?”

  “You tell me,” I said.

  “Not sure what you mean,” James said.

  “What was the purpose of having those two follow Baptiste?” I said.

  “Look,” James said. “It is my men who are missing. My men. Good working people of this community. And you are sticking up for that no-good sonofabitch, Baptiste?”

  “Answer the question,” Virgil said.

  “Are you listening to me?” James said. “It is my men who are missing, damn it.”

  “Answer the question,” Virgil said.

  James shook his head.

  “Just to watch him,” James said. “That is all.”

  Virgil glanced at me.

  “Why?” he said.

  “To keep an eye on him is all.”

  “They approached Baptiste with firearms,” I said. “Why?”

  James bit the inside of his cheek as he pondered the question.

  “Just to let him know we are watching him,” James said.

  James removed his wallet.

  “How much to get them out?” he said.

  “Not gonna be that easy,” Virgil said.

  “What, then?” James said.

  “We will have to keep them locked up for a while,” Virgil said. “Until the judge has time to see them.”

  “When will that be?” Hodge said.

  “You’d have to ask the judge,” Virgil said.

  “You can’t do this,” Hodge said.

  Virgil smiled.

  “We can and will.”

  Hodge shook his head.

  “And how long is ‘a while’?” James said.

  “Long as we like.”

  “You’ll fucking regret this,” Hodge said. “Fucking regret it, I will guarantee.”

  “You are on the wrong side of this,” James said. “Have you no conscience?”