Gunman's Rhapsody

Twenty-three

“Allie’s pretty mad,” Virgil said. “Told me she didn’t want you coming to the house no more.”

“She knows about Josie,” Wyatt said.

Virgil drank some beer and put the glass down and wiped his mustache on his sleeve.

“Everybody in the damn town knows,” Virgil said.

Wyatt nodded slowly, looking into his coffee cup.

“Including Mattie,” he said.

“What you going to do about Mattie?” Virgil said.

“Damned if I know,” Wyatt said. “She won’t leave, and I can’t throw her out. She can’t take care of herself.”

“No,” Virgil said.

“Couple of days,” Wyatt said, “she’d be in a crib east of Sixth Street.”

“I know,” Virgil said. “Maybe you could move out on her.”

“She’d follow me,” Wyatt said.

Virgil nodded. He was drawing little circles with the bottom of his beer mug on the wet tabletop.

“Besides,” Wyatt said, “it’s my house.”

“Yep.”

“What you going to do about Allie?”

Virgil kept drawing his little circles while he looked across the room and out through the half-doors into Allen Street.

“I told her my brothers would always be welcome in my house.”

“How she like that?”

“She said to me that it was her house too, and she didn’t marry no goddamned brothers, she married me.”

Wyatt smiled.

“Tough, ain’t she,” he said.

“Yeah, and good-hearted. She feels bad for Mattie.”

“Hell, Virgil, I feel bad for Mattie, but there isn’t anything I can do about it.”

“You could give up Josie,” Virgil said carefully.

“No,” Wyatt said, “I couldn’t.”

Virgil continued to look out at Allen Street. It was not the kind of conversation he enjoyed.

“Guess maybe I understand that,” he said after a while. “Not so sure I could give up Allie either.”

“I don’t want to give you and Allie no trouble,” Wyatt said. “I can stay away from your house.”

Virgil shook his head, and looked, for the first time in the conversation, straight at his younger brother.

“No,” Virgil said, “ ’less you stop being my brother, or it stops being my house, you are welcome. Allie understands it. She don’t like it, but she will do what I say about this. You come over just like always. There won’t be no trouble.”

Wyatt nodded.

“What about Behan?” Virgil said.

“House belongs to Josie,” Wyatt said. “Her father paid for it.”

“So Johnny’ll have to get out?”

“Looks that way.”

“Makes him look like a fool,” Virgil said.

“Wasn’t my intention,” Wyatt said.

“It don’t help us in town to have this happen,” Virgil said. “It don’t help us to have Johnny Behan against us, either.”

“I can deal with Johnny,” Wyatt said.

“He won’t come straight at you.”

“No.”

“But it don’t mean he won’t come,” Virgil said.

“Or send somebody,” Wyatt said.

They were quiet together for a time. Listening to the saloon sounds. The click of glasses, the low murmur of the men at card games. The sound of booted feet. An occasional high laugh from one of the whores who worked the saloons.

“Whoever he sends,” Virgil said, “they got to go up against you and me and Morgan-and Holliday, I guess, if he’s sober enough to shoot.”

“Can’t recall,” Wyatt said, “Doc ever being too drunk to shoot.”

“True enough,” Virgil said. “The skinny bastard can do that, can’t he.”

“It may not come to much,” Wyatt said. “Johnny’s a pretty careful fella. Wants to get ahead.”

“Man doesn’t get ahead, around here, at least,” Virgil said. “Being made to look like a horse’s ass in public.”

“Maybe Johnny don’t know that,” Wyatt said.