Brimstone

28

VIRGIL WAS FEEDING SHELLS into his Winchester when Pike came into the sheriff’s office with a dark, lean, hard-looking man.

“Virgil,” Pike said. “Everett.”

We both nodded.

“This here’s Pony Flores,” Pike said. “One of my employees.”

“From the old days?” I said.

Pike nodded.

“Old days,” he said.

Virgil and I both nodded at Flores. He nodded back.

“Understand some Indians killed Tom Ostermueller, and took his wife and daughter.”

“Something like that,” Virgil said.

“You going after them?”

“Yep.”

“Posse?”

“Nope.”

“Posse’d just get in the way,” Pike said.

“It would,” Virgil said.

“Bunch of townspeople with guns,” Pike said.

“Probably shoot their own horse, they ever have to clear a weapon,” Virgil said.

“Lend you some of mine,” Pike said.

Virgil shook his head.

“Me ’n Everett will do,” he said.

“Got a tracker?” Pike said.

“Everett can track some,” Virgil said.

“Pony can track a butterfly two days after,” Pike said.

Virgil looked at me.

“Where’d you learn to track?” I said.

“Apache,” Flores said.

“Pony’s mother is Apache,” Pike said.

“Chiricahua,” Flores said.

“That your real name?” Virgil said.

Pony shook his head and said something in Apache. “Means what?” Virgil said.

There was a brief expression on Pony’s face that might have been amusement.

“Pony Running,” I said.

“Okay if we stick with Pony?” Virgil said to Flores.

“Okay.”

“Father’s Mexican,” Pike said.

“Can he talk for himself?” Virgil said.

Pike smiled.

“Try him,” Pike said.

“Live with your mother’s people?” I said.

“Some.”

“Track as good as Pike says?”

“Yes.”

“Speak English okay?” I said.

“Speak it good,” Pony said.

“Just not often,” Virgil said.

Pony looked like he might have smiled for a moment, but he didn’t say anything.

“Speak Spanish?”

“Sí.”

“Any Comanche?”

“A little bit,” Pony said.

“Shoot?” Virgil said.

“I can shoot,” Pony said.

“Will you?”

“Sure.”

“Why do you want to track for us?” I said.

“Two women,” Pony said.

“You know them?”

“No.”

“But you want to help us save them,” I said.

“Yes.”

Virgil and I looked at each other.

“He’s good,” Pike said. “Been with me a long time.”

“Good how?” Virgil said.

“Colt, Winchester, knife,” Pike said. “Best tracker I ever saw.”

“Keep his word?” Virgil said.

“I do,” Pony said.

Virgil looked at me.

“Everett?” he said.

“He can probably track better than I can,” I said. “What I learned I learned from Apache scouts.”

Virgil nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “I can pay you half a dollar a day. You supply your own horse and saddle, your own weapons and ammunition.”

“Yes,” Pony said.