The Bridge

17

I dragged my straight razor across the concave belly of my seasoned whetstone and got the blade good and sharp. I heated up some water in a tin cup over the lamp, whipped up some pumice and goat-milk shaving lather with my boar-bristle brush, and then gave myself a proper slow shave. I thought about her as I worked the sharp steel across my face. I thought about how she smelled, how she felt, and the words she had spoken to me.

Goddamn lovely she is, really nice, smooth and lovely. Hocus-goddamn-pocus.

“Aha...”

The straight razor I was working up my neck toward the corner of my jaw took a nick of skin and blood instantly showed through the lather and snaked down my neck.

That’s what cogitating about a woman will get you, I thought. Hocus-goddamn-pocus.

I finished up my shave, and after I stopped the bleeding I scrubbed my teeth good, dressed, and left the room.

The rain had subsided for the moment, but it was dark out and for sure it was getting colder. As we had arranged, I met Virgil at the sheriff’s office at nine o’clock to collect the report for the DA that Book took from Grant and Elliott.

Book was drinking coffee when we entered.

“I sat with Bolger through the night,” Book said. “All he did was sleep. Skinny Jack’s there with him now.”

“No sign of his brother?” Virgil said.

“No, sir, no sign. Doc said we can get him over here and lock him up in a short-short.”

Virgil nodded.

“Any word from Sheriff Driskill from the bridge camp?” Virgil said.

“Nope,” Book said. “Not a word.”

Virgil looked at me.

“That’s peculiar. They should have made it to the bridge by dark yesterday,” Virgil said.

I nodded.

“What about Deputy Chastain,” I said. “He still sick?”

“Far as I know,” Book said. “I haven’t seen him.”

Virgil nodded.

“You boys keep alert,” Virgil said.

“Yes, sir,” Book said. “We will, sir.”

Virgil and I drank some coffee with Book for a bit, then we walked Grant and Elliott’s report over to the district attorney.

We were waiting in the front room of the DA’s office when Carveth Huckabee, Appaloosa’s DA, walked in.

He was a squat-figured man with a wide chest and a big voice. Carveth had a ruddy complexion, a bushy head of strawlike hair, and an easygoing attitude.

“Nice weather for a duck,” Carveth said.

“Is,” Virgil said.

“Glad to see you’re still with us, Everett,” Carveth said.

“Me, too, Carveth.”

“I was abstracting money at five-card from pesky mining esquires last night and I heard about the whole thing,” he said. “The heralded subject of the said shoot-out was on the table.”

“Figures,” I said.

Carveth nodded.

“It will most certainly make tomorrow’s untrustworthy newspaper,” he said. “Come on in.”

Virgil and I followed Carveth into his office. He sat behind his big oak desk and Virgil and I sat across from him.

“Haven’t seen hide nor hair of you fellas,” Carveth said.

“Things have sure enough been good and peaceful here in Appaloosa,” Carveth said. “Think Sheriff Driskill puts the fear of God in most folks.”

I handed Carveth the report and he looked it over.

“Both the men Bolger Orsley shot at want to make sure he gets his due,” I said. “Gets locked up, stays locked up. They’re scared of him.”

“He shot at you, too,” Carveth said.

“Yes,” I said. “He did, but I’m not scared of him if he’s out or not.”

“No, I wouldn’t think there’s much that would scare you, Everett, and you, Virgil, but make no mistake about Bolger,” Carveth said. “Him and that brother of his are both bad apples.”

“So it seems,” I said.

“I’m surprised these two men, Grant and Elliott, hired them in the first place,” Carveth said.

“They don’t know much about the likes of Bolger and his kind,” I said.

Carveth nodded.

“I heard about those two, Grant and Elliott,” Carveth said. “They’re different.”

“In some ways,” Virgil said, “I suspect they are, but it don’t give Bolger the right to pull on ’em.”

“No, of course not,” Carveth said. “Bolger and Ballard both have been arrested on numerous occasions all over the territories. His brother, Ballard, is the one to worry about.”

“We’ve heard,” Virgil said.

“Any idea where he is?” Carveth said.

“Don’t,” I said.

“He’s a hard case,” Carveth said. “I know he spent some time locked up down in Huntsville.”

“What for?” Virgil said.

“Don’t know,” Carveth said. “As far as whether Bolger stays locked up, that’ll be of course for Judge Callison to decide. Bolger will be held till his arraignment, and that’ll be a while.”

“Why a while?” Virgil said.

“Judge won’t be through here till the end of the month,” Carveth said. “Most likely, considering the nature of Bolger’s charges and firing on an officer of the law, well, he’ll likely stay locked up without bail till his trial.”

Virgil nodded.

Carveth looked at the report for a moment, then set it on his desk and leaned back in his chair.

“I heard there are some Union men in town,” Carveth said. “Know anything about that?”

“I saw ’em,” I said. “Yesterday.”

“Word is they’re on the hunt for a raiding party,” Carveth said.

“What raiding party?” Virgil said.

“I don’t know,” Carveth said.

“Indians?” I said.

Carveth shrugged.

“Don’t know,” Carveth said.

“How do you know what you know?” Virgil said.

“More card talk,” Carveth said.

“What, exactly?” Virgil said.

“Not much gets by the esquires. A few of them were having some whiskey at Clancy’s Saloon, said one of the soldiers came in, bought some whiskey. They said he talked some, that’s all I know.”

I looked to Virgil.

“After the shooting with Bolger, I didn’t think too much about ’em,” I said. “I figured they were just passing through, maybe up from Fort Union.”

“Know where they are now, Carveth?” Virgil said.

“No,” Carveth said. “But I can tell you, the esquires told me all they know, that much I am sure of. They said the soldier told them they were on the hunt and would continue to hunt until they found the raiders.”