The Bridge

20

“Hello, gentlemen,” Beauregard said. “I would attempt to shake your hand again, Marshal Cole, but I understand your reasons for not putting yourself at risk of something sudden and unwarranted.”

“No reason,” Virgil said.

“Not that I’m a risk,” he said with a big grin.

“Good to know,” Virgil said.

Beauregard looked to Nell.

“I’m a lamb, aren’t I, dear?”

She smiled. It was a nervous smile.

Beauregard placed his fists on both sides of his hips, pulling back his frock coat, then nodded to Nell.

“Nell, here, noticed the two of you right away when you walked in. Fact, you got her attention real good at the town hall, too. She told me after we met you that you both seemed to be men of substance. Instantly, didn’t you, dear?”

Virgil didn’t say anything.

I nodded to her and smiled.

She smiled, then glanced to Beauregard with ill-disguised irritation.

“Isn’t that right, dear?” he said.

She smiled weakly.

“Isn’t it?” he said.

“Yes,” she said, as she lifted her chin and pulled her shoulders back.

“My wife has an eye for men of substance,” he said. “Don’t you, dear?”

She didn’t say anything.

“Don’t you?”

She looked down, then to the door and back to Beauregard.

“Yes,” she said.

“Yes,” Beauregard said, as if he were a slave trader talking to his stock. “She has an eye.”

Nell just looked away.

“Marshal Cole,” Beauregard said. “I must say your lady friend, your significant other, is just lovely beyond lovely. Don’t you think, dear?”

“She is,” Nell said. “...Allison.”

Virgil nodded a little.

“Yes, Allison,” Beauregard said. “Just beautiful.”

Virgil nodded. He didn’t want to nod but he did and he also didn’t want to say anything but he did that, too.

“She is.”

“Lovely lady,” Beauregard said. “Right, dear?”

“Yes,” Nell said.

“She was so welcoming,” he said. “The whole ladies’ social, too. Allison told me if we needed anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Virgil didn’t say anything.

“Appaloosa’s a friendly place,” I said.

“Not completely,” Beauregard said, leaning in like he had a secret to tell. “I understand there was a skirmish on the street. An altercation that left a man shot.”

“We don’t tolerate no-goods,” Virgil said.

“Indeed, Marshal, indeed,” he said, then looked to Nell. “Men of substance and quick resolve, my dear. You do have a good eye.”

Beauregard was a first-class shit, and I could tell Virgil had had his fill.

“You folks have a good day,” I said.

“We will,” he said, “and rest assured just as soon as this darn weather clears we’ll be bringing your fine friendly city some delightful friendly entertainment.”

“No doubt,” I said.

Virgil tipped his hat.

“Ma’am.”

I followed him out the door. We turned to the west and walked up the boardwalk toward Dag’s Hotel.

“Early to be hitting the bottle,” I said.

“Not for the by-God glorious Beauregard Beauchamp,” Virgil said.