Blackjack

30

Two weeks after burying Skinny Jack, there was still no sign of Boston Bill. Old Man Pritchard stayed in town and continued with the duties required for his gambling parlor’s July Fourth grand opening, which was less then a month away.

With the expansion of the silver mining north of town, the parlor was already being rumored as a popular destination, mainly because Pritchard was quite the salesman. He let it be known the opening of the casino would be the grandest, most spectacular event to happen west of the Mississippi. Nothing the likes of Appaloosa had ever seen, complete with fireworks, a lively orchestra, spinning roulette wheels, and dancing girls.

It was cloudy when the sun first came up, but the day turned out to be a warm one. I’d spent the morning cleaning out the stable and working with a new horse I’d recently purchased. He was a big ornery black geld named Ajax, and I saddled him up and rode to S. Q. Johnson’s Grocery near the depot to buy Ajax and me some refreshment.

S. Q. Johnson was almost eighty and was one of the original men that started Appaloosa when the first mine opened up thirty-five years back. He was spry for his age, but slow, and with each passing day was becoming more forgetful.

After I placed my order with S.Q. and he moved off to the back room, a bright flash of light caught my eye. It shot through the dimly lit store, ricocheting off a mirror behind the counter for a brief instant, then was gone. I looked back.

It was glaring sunlight reflecting off a silky white parasol carried by a slender woman. She was passing by on the boardwalk, and I moved a bit toward the window for a closer look.

I couldn’t see her face under the dome of fabric as she walked on, but she was a graceful creature, and there was something damn sure arresting about the way she carried herself.

“Here you go, Everett,” S.Q. said.

I watched her for a moment. She stopped and walked back and looked in the window. For a brief second I thought she was looking at me, but she looked down at the display of fruit S.Q. had laid out. I could not see her face clearly, but well enough to see she was pretty. She twirled her parasol a little, turned, and then walked on.

“She was in here the other day,” S.Q. said.

I moved back to the counter where S.Q. had my goods laid out.

“Who is she?”

“Don’t know, but she’s a flower. Smelled like one, too... Every now and again a little nice comes to town, an element that brings value and beauty. But that is only now and again. Damn place is getting bigger every day, Everett. I don’t have to tell you most of what is populating Appaloosa these days is nothing but riffraff.”

“No, S.Q. You don’t have to tell me.”

“I don’t, but I am telling you anyway... riffraff, like that gambler you and Virgil were after.”

“Well, it’s a growing place, I’ll give you that.”

“You ever catch that murderer?”

“No, sir.”

“Shame,” S.Q. said. “I remember that fella that got shot ’cause of him. He came in here and bought a can of beans... Oh... I forgot your ice.”

S.Q. turned and walked slowly to the back room.

“Yeah,” S.Q. said, “that fella came in here just before it happened. I visited with him for quite a while, nice man.”

“That so?”

S.Q. said nothing else, but I could hear him chopping some ice. After a moment he walked back slowly from the rear of the store.

“What did you visit with him about?” I said.

“Who?” S.Q. said.

“The man that got shot in front of the gambling place.”

“He came in here.”

“Yeah. You said. He bought a can of beans.”

“He did.”

“You talked to him?”

S.Q. nodded.

“He came in here just before he got shot, poor fella.”

“What’d you talk about?”

“He sat there on the porch and ate his beans,” S.Q. said. “Nice morning. I sat there with him and we visited.”

“What did you visit about?”

“Oh... a little bit of everything.”

“Like what?”

“Think he was feeling the effects of a bit too much of the good stuff, Everett.”

“Do you remember what you talked about?”

“Oh, let’s see... He told me he was a policeman.”

“Anything else you remember?”

S.Q. leaned in closer.

“Said that he had come to town to arrest the man responsible for murdering his wife. Was gonna take him in single-handed.”

“He said that to you?”

“He did,” S.Q. said. “Said he had nightmares ’bout it, it was haunting him. Poor fella. Guess it didn’t turn out like he had planned.”

“You remember anything else?”

“About what?”

“Anything else he said?”

“Who?” S.Q. said.