Blackjack

38

Virgil sat up straight with his shoulders back. He took a big pull of his beer, then rested the mug on the bar in front of him. I leaned forward a little to catch his eye.

“What?” I said.

Virgil nodded.

“Bullshit,” I said.

Virgil shifted his eyes to me and shook his head.

“No bullshit.”

“Goddamn, Virgil.”

“What?”

“What?”

Virgil sipped his beer but didn’t look at me.

“Well... hell, Virgil, I never knew you had a brother, you never said a damn thing.”

I looked back to Valentine, who was conversing with his poker partners.

“All these years I’ve ridden with you and you never mentioned you even had a brother.”

“No,” he said. “I did not.”

“Can I ask why?”

“No reason.”

“No reason?”

“Long time ago, Everett,” Virgil said. “Past. Past is past.”

“Well, hell.”

“Some things are best forgotten.”

“Until now,” I said.

“That’s right,” Virgil said.

I shook my head and looked at Virgil for a long bit.

“Pell?” I said. “He a half-brother?”

Virgil glanced back to Valentine at the poker table and nodded slightly.

“He is.”

“I’ll be damn.”

I looked back at Pell, then looked back to Virgil.

“You want to tell me about it?”

“Not really.”

“But you will.”

Virgil sat quiet for a moment.

“Blood brothers?” I said.

Virgil nodded, then looked over at him again for a moment.

“Complicated,” Virgil said.

“How so?”

“His pa ran off, left my mom, she remarried, had me.”

“So you grew up together?”

Virgil nodded.

“For a while. He was five years older. He was gone by sixteen.”

“I’ll be damn...” I said. “Valentine Pell.”

Virgil nodded.

“Rhymes with hell,” Virgil said.

“Same name as his old man...” Virgil said. “Valentine Pell. He was a lawman turned outlaw...”

“You knew his father?”

Virgil looked over to Valentine again. He stared at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly.

“Not sure anyone knew that old sonofabitch... after my dad died... I was ten, Val was fifteen; his old man, Valentine Senior, comes back around... Not real fond memories, Everett... That was when Val took off and left Mom and me there to fend for ourselves... After some time... he took off again... Not long after that the man got himself shot and killed.”

Virgil shook his head a little, as if he still did not believe who it was, that a person from his past, a member of his family, would actually be in his presence. I, too, was having a hard time with the notion.

Nothing about Virgil had ever made me think much about his family or that he even had a family. I’m not sure why. I guess I’ve always felt some business is better left unsaid. I know there is not much about any of what I did before today that really amounts to much in terms of memory.

I never thought about Virgil being anything but Virgil or anything but just perfectly present in the here and now. Maybe that is why the idea of his family, or the idea of him even having a family, seemed improbable and was a subject that we never engaged in.

Maybe he discussed his history with Allie, but I seriously doubt it. For certain Virgil never discussed family matters, so I figured it was not open for discussion, but now family was here and it was in the form of a colorful and enigmatic brother with the unusual name of Valentine Pell.

“They were the same person, those two,” Virgil said. “His old man and him, cut from the same cloth.”

Valentine finished his hand of cards and came into the front bar and joined Virgil and me. He was big and he walked as if he were even bigger.

“Goddamn, it is good to see you, Virgil,” Valentine said.

“Kind of figured it’d be you,” Virgil said.

Valentine smiled a big grin and patted Virgil on the back. Then he leaned forward on the bar, reached across Virgil, and held out his hand for me to shake.

“You must be Everett Hitch,” he said.

I nodded and shook his hand.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said. “I have heard all about you and the big gun you carry.”

“Eight-gauge,” I said.

Then he looked at Virgil and grinned again.

“Still not shaking hands, Virgil?”

Virgil didn’t say anything.

“Picked that up from his old man,” Valentine said.

Virgil looked at Valentine without a hint of an expression on his face.

“Well, shit,” Valentine said, “I just can’t get over it, as I live and breathe, Virgil. And a goddamn marshal to boot.”

Valentine clapped his hands a few times. It was unwelcome applause.

“And I hear you have a fine wife and a house with a fenced-in yard,” Valentine said. “Allison, right? Allison French, Allie?”

Virgil didn’t say anything.

“Part of my job to know these things, Virgil,” he said. “Just like you.”

“We’re not alike,” Virgil said.

Valentine laughed, then turned to Fat Wallis, who was leaning on the back of the bar with his arms folded across his big belly, observing the room.

“Excuse me, gentleman, sir,” Valentine said. “Might I have a bottle of your finest whiskey and three glasses?”

Valentine looked to Virgil.

“You will have a drink with me, won’t you, Virgil?” he said.

“On me, of course, and you, too, Everett.”

I looked to Virgil. Virgil stared at Valentine, then nodded slightly to Wallis.

Wallis set the glasses in front of each one of us and poured.

“Thank you, kind sir,” Valentine said.

Wallis nodded, then set the bottle in front of us and moved off to the other end of the bar.

Valentine raised his glass.

“To my little brother,” he said.