Ironhorse

111

The Texas rangers arrived in Half Moon Junction to collect the prisoners and to escort the governor and his family back to Texas. There was a bunch of them. They stepped off the Northbound Express and walked in a pack up Half Moon Street, heading for Hotel Ark. Little Charlie — acting as their pathfinder — led the way. Virgil and I were sitting on the corner of Half and Full Moon Street, eating breakfast at KK & Sandra’s Café when they turned the corner and walked past us. There were ten of them, and they were all dressed the same.

“A sight,” I said.

“Is,” Virgil said.

“There’s a bunch of ’em.”

“Ten big men, wearing ten-gallon hats.”

“Following a ten-year-old boy.”

“Looks like they are outta the same litter,” Virgil said.

“Does.”

We watched them walk a ways, and Virgil went back to work on his breakfast of posole and cornbread.

I pulled out my watch and had a look at the time.

“The Southbound Express back to Texas will be coming through here in about an hour and a half.”

“You gonna talk to that woman?” Virgil said.

Virgil was focused on his breakfast. He scooped up a big spoonful of posole.

“’Bout what?”

“’Bout what she wants to talk about,” Virgil said.

He scooped in another spoonful.

“What do you think she wants to talk about?”

“You.”

“Me?”

Virgil nodded.

“What do you think she wants to talk about me?”

“Most likely ’bout your problems.”

“’Bout my problems?”

Virgil nodded as he chewed his food.

“That’s what they like to talk about,” Virgil said.

“They?” I said.

“Women,” Virgil said. “That’s what they want to talk about, mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“That’s what Allie talks about, mostly,” Virgil said. “My problems.”

Virgil cleaned his plate with a piece of cornbread.

“Way women are,” Virgil said.

Virgil ate some more.

“Keeps them from having to talk about their own problems,” Virgil said, “and if you ask me, talking about your problems is a hell of a lot easier than talking about their problems, so you just make peace with it. Just listen real good. Let her go on. Don’t say nothing.”

“You finished?”

“I am,” Virgil said.