Brimstone

68

VIRGIL AND I WALKED UP Arrow Street toward Pike’s Palace in the early afternoon. The day was bright. There was a pleasant breeze off the river. Virgil was wearing his Colt and carrying a Winchester in his left hand. I had my Colt and the eight-gauge.

“You got a plan?” I said.

“I do,” Virgil said. “I figure we’ll walk into Pike’s and see what happens.”

“That’s a plan?” I said.

“Sure,” Virgil said.

“Walk in cold against twenty-five men?” I said.

“We get Pike early, there won’t be twenty-five. They’ll fade like a spring blossom. Probably won’t be that many in there this hour of the day, anyway.”

I paused in front of a sign nailed to one of the overhang supports on the boardwalk in front of a hardware shop.

“No guns to be carried in Brimstone without permission,” the sign read. It was signed “Chauncey Brown, Town Marshal.”

“Chauncey Brown?” I said.

“That’d be Choctaw,” Virgil said.

“So quick,” I said.

“Pike’s like me,” Virgil said. “Needs to be done, may as well get to it.”

We arrived in front of Pike’s Palace. There was another one of Choctaw’s signs outside the door. We stood for a minute. I cocked the eight-gauge.

Then I said, “Here we go.”

Virgil winked at me, and we went in. I went to the corner to the right of the door where I could see the whole room. Virgil went past me and walked around the bar so he was away from me.

“Afternoon,” Virgil said to the bartender. “Could you tell Pike that Virgil Cole would like to see him.”

The bartender jerked his head up when Virgil spoke, and stared at him.

Then he said, “Yes sir,” and walked fast toward the back of the room. Across the room I could see Pony Flores having a meal alone at a table. When he saw us he stood and leaned against the wall. No one paid any attention. Nothing happened for a while. Then Abner came out of the back of the saloon carrying his lookout sawed-off. Some of Pike’s other gun hands appeared and began to spread out around the room. I stayed where I was. Pony stood against the far wall, and Virgil seemed comfortable and at peace, standing by the bar.

It was maybe twenty more minutes before Pike appeared, walking easily from the back, wearing a Colt.

“Virgil Cole,” he said pleasantly, “you cocksucker, why are you here?”

“Val Verde County deputy sheriffs,” Virgil said.

“For what?”

“Being a really bad asshole,” Virgil said.

“You think those badges mean you can take my money and double-cross me?” Pike said. “I bought them badges, and you. And you took the money and double-crossed me.”

“We left town like we promised,” Virgil said. “We didn’t say nothing about not coming back.”

“Virgil,” Pike said, as if he was tired, “don’t fuck with me. You know and I know that I’m gonna have to kill the both of you.”

“Sorry you feel that way, Pike,” Virgil said.

I wondered where Choctaw was. He’d been hired for this kind of moment. But I couldn’t look for him. If the ball went up, I needed to be focused. I had to kill Abner with one barrel, and maybe clean out a couple more with the other barrel. If the dance started, Choctaw would announce himself.

Virgil was silent, waiting. In the saloon, people began to scramble for cover. It was helpful in sorting out who were shooters and who were not. Pike continued to look at Virgil. They were maybe six feet apart. I didn’t know if Pike was cranking up his courage or savoring his moment. Virgil was simply waiting. The saloon wasn’t crowded this time of day. The spectators’ scrambling stopped as all of them got out of the way. The room was quiet. The tension in the room was like a physical pressure.

Then Pike said very clearly, “I believe I can beat you,” and moved a step away from Virgil.

Upstairs somebody fired some shots, maybe three, and the tension exploded. Abner half turned at the sound and I shot him with one barrel, and the two gunmen to his right with the other barrel. Pony shot two men from the far side of the room. Something tumbled from the upstairs balcony. And Pike found he couldn’t beat Virgil.

Pike was good. He had his gun in his hand. He’d cleared leather. But the gun was pointing at the floor and Pike was taking a step backward, then another. Then he suddenly went down and lay on his back on the floor with his mouth open and blood soaking into his shirt front.

When Pike went down, everything stopped.

Virgil stood still by the bar with his Colt in his hand. I was flattened against the wall with my Colt out, and Pony stood across in a crouch, with his weapon out and another Colt stuck in his waistband. The room buzzed with silence.

“We got you from three corners,” Virgil said. “And we can shoot. You want to stay with this, we’ll kill you. And with Pike gone, what is there to die for?”

The remainder of Pike’s crew stood uncertainly. They had their hands near their guns, but none of them had drawn.

“You leave them weapons in the holsters,” Virgil said. “And get out of here and keep going, you gonna live. I see you again and I’ll kill you.”

One of the men said, “I’m leaving,” and with his gun holstered walked out of the room. In a moment three others went after him. Virgil watched them go, then walked slowly around the room.

“Since Marshal Choctaw said nobody can wear guns, the only ones who’d be wearing one now,” Virgil said, “would be Pike’s people.”

He moved from person to person. Pony and I held position.

“So I figure you got a gun, you’re with Pike, and you want to use it,” Virgil said.

Two men sitting in the back stood suddenly. Virgil turned easily toward them. One of the men put his hands up.

“We was with Pike,” he said. “But we don’t want no trouble.”

Virgil nodded and pointed toward the door. Both men walked out. There were no other guns in the room. When he got through looking, Virgil went and glanced at what had fallen from the balcony. It was a Winchester. He looked up and Choctaw was there, head down, half over the balcony railing. Virgil studied him for a moment.

Then he said, “Allie?”

There was a sudden tumble of footsteps from the balcony, and Allie came running down the stairs with Laurel behind her. Allie was carrying the short Colt that Virgil had given her. She kept on coming when she reached the saloon and lunged against Virgil, with Laurel right behind her.

Very gracefully, Virgil took the gun from her hand as she embraced him. He handed the gun to me, as Laurel embraced him, too. Virgil, looking a little embarrassed, put an arm around each of them. I looked up at the balcony. Frisco was standing there, looking down. She smiled and nodded. I nodded back.

Pony reloaded and holstered his weapon. I reloaded the eight-gauge and the short Colt that Allie had used. Despite an arm around each woman, Virgil was putting a fresh shell into his Colt, working carefully behind their heads. I smiled to myself.

Pony walked over to me.

“Just ’cause you can shoot,” I said, “don’t mean I want to hug you.”

“No hug?” he said.

“No,” I said.

Pony grinned.

“Good,” he said.