58
“WORKED A TOWN in Oklahoma once,” Virgil said as we walked along Arrow Street toward The Church of the Brotherhood. “Had one of them Indian schools. Everybody working their ass off to teach these kids to be what they weren’t.”
“Buffalo Calf wasn’t a quitter,” I said. “Musta taken him ten years to find Pike.”
“Yep.”
“Then he wanted to stretch it out,” I said. “So it wouldn’t be over too quick.”
“All he had,” Virgil said.
He paused and looked at a dress hanging in the window of a shop.
“You a pretty smart fella, Everett.”
“Sure,” I said.
“Went to the Academy and all.”
“Yep.”
“Think she’ll ever change?” he said.
I knew he meant Allie.
“Folks generally don’t,” I said.
“No,” Virgil said.
He kept looking at the dress.
“You?” I said.
“Change?” he said. “ ’Bout Allie?”
“Yep.”
“Maybe,” he said. “This time I think I could haze her off.”
“But,” I said.
“Got that girl to take care of.”
“There’s other women in the world,” I said.
“Not right at the moment,” Virgil said.
“You love Allie?” I said.
“I might.”
“And maybe Laurel’s a good excuse,” I said.
“Maybe,” Virgil said.
He turned from the window and looked at me. “And maybe I’m glad I got an excuse,” he said. “Either way, we gonna keep her for now.”
“Take care of Laurel,” I said.
“Yes.”
I nodded.
“Wasn’t planning on no daughter,” I said.
“Nope.”
We walked on toward the church. It was a warm day, with some wind that kicked up the dust in the street in little swirls and bothered the parasols that some of the ladies carried.
“Laurel might change her,” Virgil said.
“Maybe,” I said.
“I think she will,” Virgil said.
I didn’t say anything.
“I’ll only say this to you, Everett,” Virgil said. “ ’Cause I don’t mind so much looking like a fool to you. But I believe her this time.”
“And them other men?” I said.
“Got nothing to do with me,” Virgil said.
I nodded. We walked on. We could see The Church of the Brotherhood ahead of us. There were several deacons standing around outside wearing Colts.
“ ’ Less it keeps happening,” Virgil said. “Can’t take that no more.”
“Good,” I said.
Virgil nodded and stopped outside the church.
“Howdy, boys,” he said. “We come to see Brother Percival.”
59
WE SAT WITH PERCIVAL IN A PEW near the back of the church.
“I’ve not seen Allie lately,” Percival said. “Is she well?”
“She’s busy with Laurel Ostermueller,” Virgil said.
“Ah, yes, how tragic, the abduction, then her mother killing herself.”
“You fucking them,” Virgil said.
“If you came to be abusive,” Percival said, “then this conversation is over.”
“Believe you fucked Allie some, too.”
Percival rose to his feet.
“You’re appalling,” he said to Virgil.
“I am, for a fact,” Virgil said. “You got any plans to close Pike down?”
It was moving a little fast for Brother Percival. He shook his head slightly as if to clear it.
“Pike?” he said.
“Yeah. You planning on running him out like you done all the other saloon owners?” Virgil said.
“ ‘ Saloon owners,’ ” Percival said. “You say it as if it were ordinary. Every one of the sins that accumulated in those hell-holes that I closed has re-formed and erupted in Pike’s Palace. It is the ultimate cesspool of corruption, and it is poisoning the town.”
“That sound like yes to you, Everett?” Virgil said.
“Seems so to me,” I said.
“You think Pike gonna let you close him down?” Virgil said.
“An armed and muscular Christianity cannot be defeated,” Percival answered.
He always sounded to me like he was recycling his own sermons, which he probably was.
“I wouldn’t count too much on Choctaw,” Virgil said.
“I rely on my Father in heaven,” Percival said.
“Probably better than Choctaw,” Virgil said.
Percival looked down at us with contempt, dirtied as we were with mortality.
“Is there a purpose to this visit?” Percival said.
“Ain’t planning to prevent you doing what you going to do,” Virgil said. “Nor Pike from answering you back. You both got the right. But these things have a way of spillin’ over, and I don’t want that to happen.”
“What you want, Deputy,” Percival said, “what either of you wants, doesn’t matter, I am not governed by you and your laws. My allegiance is to a far greater power, and what He and I will do is not open to debate.”
“Well, Brother P.,” Virgil said. “What me and Everett want matters to us, and when it matters enough, we are pretty good at making it matter to other people. I want you to keep this thing between you and Pike between you and Pike.”
Percival stared down at Virgil without speaking.
“And,” Virgil said, “if things get outta hand, I’m gonna shoot you. Everett might shoot you, too.”
Percival continued to stare down at us. Then without a word he turned and stormed away down the center aisle of the church. Virgil and I watched him go.
“Think we scared him?” I said.
“ ’Fraid not,” Virgil said.
“Him or the Heavenly Father,” I said.
“Neither,” Virgil said.
60
IT WAS LIKE A SUMMER STORM approaching. The atmosphere tightened; I could feel the tension crackling. There was no thunder yet, or lightning, but I could feel it lurking. I knew it was coming. So did everyone else. There were more men with guns standing around. There were fewer people on the streets. The people who were on the streets walked faster. The dogs seemed to slink a little. The horses seemed edgy. Everyone seemed somehow wound a little tighter. Except Virgil. As always, he remained entirely Virgil Cole, regardless of what was going on around him.
“Gonna be one hell a deluge,” I said, as we walked in the evening back to Allie’s house.
“Deluge?” Virgil said. “Like rain?”
“Just thinking out loud,” I said.
Virgil shook his head.
“You’re kinda strange sometimes, Everett,” Virgil said.
“Yeah,” I said. “I know.”
Pony was sitting in a rocker on Allie’s front porch with a Winchester in his lap. Laurel sat on a straight chair next to him.
“Where’s Allie?” Virgil said.
“Cook supper,” Pony said.
“Uh-oh,” Virgil said.
Pony shrugged.
“We’ll be here for a while,” I said to Pony, “you want to go up to Pike’s or whatever.”
“Good,” Pony said. “Maybe eat.”
I grinned.
“Better hurry,” I said. “I think she’s coming.”
Pony stood and leaned the Winchester against the doorjamb.
“Watch the rifle for me,” he said.
Virgil nodded.
“Don’t go too far,” Virgil said.
Pony nodded and walked off toward Arrow Street. Virgil sat next to Laurel.
“You know something?” I said to Virgil.
“Just a feeling,” Virgil said. “Air’s kinda tight.”
I didn’t say anything. Allie came out in an apron. It wasn’t much of an apron, as far as keeping gravy off your dress. But it was cute-looking, and she looked cute in it.
“Supper’s ready,” she said.
She was making progress. The food wasn’t good. But nothing was burned, and we ate as much of it as we could so as not to hurt her feelings. We were back on the porch letting it digest when Pony came silently out of the darkness. Virgil had heard him, I could tell, because he had shifted forward slightly in his chair to clear his gun hand.
“Percival,” he said. “At Pike’s. All lined up. Singing church music.”
“Sounds like it’s gonna start,” I said.
Virgil nodded. He looked at Pony and jerked his head at the women. Pony nodded and picked up his Winchester and sat down beside Laurel. Virgil stood and went into the house. In a moment he came out with another Colt. One with a shorter barrel. A banker’s gun. He gave it to Allie.