Finally, Virgil looked at me with the same grin he’d given Stark.

“Vermin,” he said.

We were having a drink before work with Cato and Rose in the Blackfoot. A good-looking woman came in from the hotel lobby. She was wearing a blue gingham dress and a ribbon in her hair. She saw the four of us at the bar and walked over.

“I need help,” she said.

“Ladies don’t usually come in here,” I said.

“I don’t care,” she said. “It’s worse out there.”

She had a purple bruise on her left cheekbone that had begun to turn yellow, which meant she’d had it for a while. She’d probably made the dress herself, but it fit pretty well. Her dark hair looked as if she brushed it a lot. She seemed well-scrubbed.

“What do you need,” I said.

“My husband just hit me in the stomach and knocked me down.”

“Doesn’t look like the first time,” I said.

“No.”

“What’s different about this time,” I said.

“He was kicking me.”

“Where’d this happen,” I said.

“In the emporium.”

“And you got away from him and ran in here?”

“Yes,” she said. “But he’ll be in here after me.”

“What’s holding him up?” I said.

“He’s got to get the children into the wagon,” she said.

We all looked at her, even Cato.

“The children,” I said.

“He beats me up in front of them all the time,” she said.

Her voice was steady. But I could see that her hands were shaking.

“What’s your name,” I said.

“Beth,” she said. “Beth Redmond.”

“Bob Redmond’s wife?” I said.

“Yes.”

The saloon doors on the street side swung open and Redmond pushed in.

“Speak of the devil,” I said.

“Beth,” Redmond said when he saw her standing with us. “What are you, a goddamned whore? Get out of this place.”

She didn’t move.

“You hear me, woman?” Redmond said. “Out! Now!”

Cato Tillson looked at Mrs. Redmond and said, “You want me to kill him?”

“Kill him?” Mrs. Redmond said.

“Yes.”

“I… no,” she said. “God, no.”

“Okay,” Cato said.

He picked up his drink and leaned back in his chair to watch. For the first time, I think, it registered to Redmond who we were. He didn’t like it. But he had to be forceful. His wife was watching.

“This is none of your business,” he said. “Any of you.”

None of us said anything.

“I don’t know what she told you; she’s a lying bitch anyway. But I can’t have my wife flaunting herself like a floozy in a saloon.”

None of us said anything.

“So you either come right now, bitch,” he said to his wife, “or I’ll come over and drag you out by the hair of your head.”

None of us said anything. But Virgil stepped away from the bar and moved over to stand in front of Mrs. Redmond.

Redmond paused.

“This is family business,” he said.

Virgil said nothing.

Redmond looked at the rest of us.

“It is, you know,” he said. “Nobody got the right to interfere between a man and his wife.”

None of us said anything. Redmond looked at his wife again.

“What kind of whore are you, hiding from your husband behind this… this fucking… fucking gun shooter?”

Behind Virgil, Mrs. Redmond shook her head but didn’t say anything. Nobody else said anything. Nobody moved. Redmond didn’t have a gun. His good luck. If he’d had one he might have tried to use it. Bad luck, though, for Mrs. Redmond. If he tried to shoot with Virgil, he’d be dead and she’d be free of him.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay. That’s how it is, whore. Just don’t think you can come home after this.”

“I can’t come with you, Bob,” Mrs. Redmond said. “I can’t anymore.”

“Just stay away from me and my children,” he said.

She opened her mouth and took a short breath, and didn’t speak. He looked at her and turned his head and spit on the floor. He was careful, I noticed, not to spit on Virgil. Then he turned stiffly and marched out.

“Oh my God,” Mrs. Redmond said. “Oh my God!”

She began to cry.

We got her to a table, and she sat down.

"Do you drink whiskey?” Virgil said.

She nodded as she cried. I gestured to Patrick and he brought us a good-sized glass of whiskey.

“Wolfson’s,” Patrick said as he put the glass down.

Mrs. Redmond picked it up with both hands and tried to hold the crying long enough to drink some. Breathing in tiny, shallow breaths, she managed to take a slug and swallow it. Then she put the glass down and cried some more.

After a while she took another slug and said, “What am I going to do?”

“What do you need?” Virgil said.

"I have no money, no clothes, no place to stay, nowhere to go,” she said.

“You can stay here,” Virgil said.

“Here?”

“In the hotel,” Virgil said.

“But I can’t pay.”

“We’ll arrange something,” I said. “Room at the hotel, meals, charge what you need at the emporium.”

“But…” She didn’t quite know how to ask the question.

She drank some whiskey.

“But do I have to… do I have to do anything?” she said.

Virgil smiled.

“No,” he said. “You don’t.”

Wolfson came into the saloon through the door that connected to the hotel lobby, and walked straight to our table.

“What the hell is she doing here,” he said.

“Having a drink,” Virgil said. “With me.”

It was a simple answer. But there was something in it that made Wolfson rein in.

“Well, I see that, Virgil,” Wolfson said. “But we don’t normally see women like her in here. She ain’t a whore, is she?”

“No,” Virgil said.

“No offense, ma’am,” Wolfson said.

Mrs. Redmond shook her head. She was beginning to enjoy the whiskey.

“I’d like her to be a guest of the Blackfoot,” Virgil said. “Room, board, charge what she needs at the emporium.”

“Sure,” Wolfson said. “Who pays.”

“She doesn’t,” Virgil said.

“So who pays?” Wolfson said.

“We was thinking it would be you, Amos,” I said. “You know, guest of the Blackfoot?”

“Including the emporium?” Wolfson said. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

Frank Rose was sitting with his elbows on the table, and his chin resting on his folded hands. He winked at Mrs. Redmond.

“Harmonious relationship,” he said to Wolfson, “with your gun hands.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Wolfson said.

“Can’t speak for Cole and Hitch,” Rose said. “But me and Cato will quit if she don’t get what she needs.”

“Quit?”

I looked at Virgil and nodded.

“That would be the occasion,” Virgil said, “among me and Everett, too.”

“And some of us might be kind of mad about it,” Rose said.

Cato stared straight at Wolfson and nodded his head slowly.

“You are threatening me,” Wolfson said.

Rose grinned at him.

“Only a little,” Rose said.

“Are you saying that if I don’t give this fucking woman room, board, and emporium charge privileges, you’ll quit?”

Rose looked at Cato, then at Virgil and me. All three of us nodded.

“Yes,” Rose said. “That’s pretty much it.”

“And you might cause trouble?” Wolfson said.

“We’re pretty good at that,” Rose said.

“For crissake,” Wolfson said. “Is she doing all of you?”

“None of us,” Virgil said. “And clean up your talk.”

Wolfson started to say something. Virgil was looking at him steadily.

“Room, board, free stuff at the store,” Wolfson said.

Virgil nodded. Wolfson looked at Mrs. Redmond.

He said, “You got anything to add, lady?”

“Her name is Mrs. Redmond,” Virgil said.

“Beth,” she said. “Beth Redmond.”

“You’re Bob Redmond’s wife?”

She nodded.

“Jesus Christ,” Wolfson said.

He turned away from the table.

“You’ll arrange it?” I said.

"Oh, fuck,” Wolfson said, and kept walking. “I’ll arrange it.”