Blackjack

57

To say the least, it was damn sure interesting for me to witness Virgil and Valentine together. Blood is thicker than water, I thought. In some ways I was relieved that Valentine was here in Appaloosa and present in Virgil’s life. Though Virgil had both Allie and me as partners, I always felt Virgil was really without anyone. In most ways I know that was what he preferred, but in other ways as time marched on, I think Virgil found some comfort in having some distractions from that consuming world that was, in every respect, the consuming world of Virgil Cole.

Virgil pulled a few of the cigars from his pocket. He held up one for Valentine.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he said, taking a cigar from Virgil.

“They come from you,” Virgil said, holding up the cigar.

“Damn good ones, too,” Valentine said.

Virgil nodded as he struck a match and cupped it for Valentine.

“Where’d you steal ’em?” Virgil said.

“I bought those with hard-earned money,” Valentine said as he puffed on the cigar until it was going good. “I chased and caught a couple of Mescaleros for the Army that used to ride for Victorio. Chased them for a hundred miles down the Rio Grande before I caught the savages, and I was given these cigars by the colonel himself.”

Virgil looked to me, flicked the match, fished another from his pocket, then dragged the tip across the underside of table and lit his cigar. After he got the cigar going good he waved the flame from the match and looked at the gallows. He puffed on his cigar as he watched the men putting the structure together. We watched for a bit without talking.

“The whole town is anxious,” I said.

Virgil nodded a little and Valentine shook his head.

“Juniper hit the jug,” I said.

Valentine looked at me for a moment, then said, “He just got boxed in.”

Virgil nodded.

“Black did not help,” I said.

“No,” Valentine said. “But I doubt that would have changed the good judge’s decision.”

“No,” Virgil said. “Me, neither.”

We sat for a moment, watching the workers.

“Taking the position this was the Denver contingent’s plan,” Valentine said as he puffed on his cigar, “have you fellas given much thought as to why the prosecution waited until the second day to bring in the Brit painter?”

“Maybe it wasn’t the plan?” I said.

“If I were a betting man, which I am, I would stack chips it was,” Valentine said.

“Why?” I said.

“Don’t know,” Valentine said. “Just my gut.”

Virgil nodded a little.

“Don’t make good sense,” Virgil said.

“I have said all along there seems to be a Denver conspiracy of sorts,” Valentine said. “But with the Brit painter and his Bloom Where You Are Planted painting, it goddamn sure painted Boston Bill Black into a corner, and up those hangman steps, no matter.”

Valentine nodded to the gallows.

“It did at that,” Virgil said.

“DA Payne had told us there was no eyewitness.”

“And then there was,” Valentine said.

We sat silent for a moment, thinking about that.

“I did some asking around,” Valentine said.

Virgil looked at him, but Valentine just puffed on his cigar, looking at the gallows.

“What kind of asking around?” I said.

“Oh, in Denver,” he said. “I got some good friends in Denver.”

“What were you asking around about?” Virgil said.

“Just was curious, wanted to get the angle, what was at the apex,” he said. “Had some wiring back and forth with an amigo who talked to another amigo, what they knew about this.”

“And?” I said.

“Nothing much, really, only that the daughter-in-law was a dark stain on the family’s reputation. The scrawny police chief’s been the laughingstock because of his daughter-in-law. From what was relayed, she liked to hike her tail... a good bit... and was good at it... And I’d just have to bet a dollar to a dime that Black was not the only one swabbing those tonsils.”

“Yeah, we got that from the Denver captain, that they wanted this over,” I said.

“Chief and his wife are tighter than goddamn squeaking oak branches with the Church. He’s an elder, she sings in the church choir.”

“And that goddamn judge,” Valentine said. “I know he’s got a reputation and is a good hand, but I don’t know, it seems to me he’s holding on to a greased rope.”

Virgil looked at me and nodded a little.

“He wavered,” I said.

“Wavered?” Valentine said. “Why, he should be doing something else... like crocheting or carving wooden toys for his great-grandchildren.”

“He’s no spring chicken,” Virgil said.

“I have always thought Callison the best and most reliable judge we got,” I said. “But...”

“Nothing lasts forever, Everett,” Valentine said. “Comes a time for every sanctimonious scallywag and do-gooder to get their ass dry docked.”

Virgil looked down. He kept the cigar wedged in the corner of his mouth and reluctantly nodded in agreement.

“And though,” I said, “this case got Black on the downslope with the testimony from the Bloom couple that owned the inn, saying they heard Black and Ruth Ann arguing and finding blood on the back porch, to LaCroix offering up his testimony, it still seemed... I don’t know, suspect.”

Virgil looked up at me. He did not say anything, but his look told me he agreed with the comment.

“The Coloradoans still here loitering about in Appaloosa?” Valentine said.

“They are,” I said. “They said they would remain here to watch the ball drop.”

“That’s kind of them,” Valentine said.

Valentine took a sip of beer and gazed off for a moment, watching the workers on the gallows, then shook his head and looked to Virgil.

“You think he’s innocent?” Valentine said.

I looked to Virgil.

“Callison heard it and he pulled the trigger and there ain’t nothing we can do about that,” Virgil said.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I know,” Virgil said.

We sipped our beer, thinking about that, as the worker raised the top rope beam above the gallows floor.

“I went to Callison after the trial,” Virgil said.

“For?” Valentine said.

Virgil puffed on his cigar for a moment as he thought.

“For the very thing we are talking about here,” he said.

“You wanted to make sure he was looking down the cue?” Valentine said.

Virgil nodded.

“Yep,” Virgil said. “Just wanted to make sure he heard enough and saw enough. And I wanted to have a look in his eyes.”

“What did you see?” Valentine said.

Virgil thought for a moment and shook his head.

“He was convinced,” Virgil said.

Valentine said, “Stands by the jury’s decision, that sort of thing?”

Virgil nodded.

“Don’t mean he’s right,” Valentine said.

“Or the jury made the right decision,” I said.

“Just because a bunch of goddamn geese go south don’t mean the meadowlark needs to follow.”

“No,” Virgil said. “It don’t.”

“Well,” Valentine said. “Like I said, it was told to me Roger’s wife had more than one chucker in the woodshed, so no telling.”