Kah-to-nay shook his head sharply and spoke in Apache. Pony nodded and held his hand up at his brother.

“How many people Callico bring?” Pony said.

“Gotta leave some people to watch the town,” Virgil said. “Figure six or eight, plus himself.”

“He any good?” Pony said.

“Amos Callico?” Cato said. “Very good.”

Pony nodded.

“You are very good?” Pony said.

“Yes,” Cato said.

Pony nodded.

“You and Everett stay, too, Virgil?”

“Long as we need to,” Virgil said.

Kah-to-nay spoke again in Apache. Pony nodded.

“So, we all stay here maybe one, maybe two, three weeks, wait for Callico to come arrest me and Kah-to-nay. Maybe big fight.”

“Pretty much,” Rose said.

Pony nodded.

“Kah-to-nay not go to white jail,” Pony said.

All of us nodded.

“Better we go away,” Pony said.

“Where?” Virgil said.

“Apache places,” Pony said.

“That’s where they’ll be looking for you,” I said.

Pony smiled.

“Some Apache places white-eyes don’t go,” he said.

“Might depend a little on the white-eye,” Virgil said.

Pony grinned wider.

“Yes, Virgil, you go, maybe Everett go with you,” he said. “But mostly not.”

Virgil nodded.

“You gonna stay on the run all your life?” I said.

“See tomorrow,” Pony said. “Don’t do Chiricahua good, think about long time from now.”

“No,” Virgil said. “I’d guess it don’t. You need anything.”

Pony shook his head.

“You know where me and Everett are,” Virgil said.

Pony nodded.

“Speak for Pony to Chiquita,” he said.

We all stood up.

“Thank you for help,” Pony said to Cato and Rose. “Kahto-nay know he should say thank you, but he not.”

“We know ’bout Kah-to-nay,” Rose said.

They shook hands.

Virgil handed the bottle to Pony.

“Take the rest of this with you,” he said.

Pony took the bottle. We swung up into our saddles and rode away from them, back toward town.

32

AS WE CAME INTO TOWN, I could see a group of riders gathered at the far end of Main Street in front of the jail, where Cato and Rose kept office.

“Callico,” Virgil said.

“Gossip travels fast,” Rose said.

“Might be good,” Virgil said, “if me ’n Everett drift over and settle in across from the jail.”

“Have them between us,” Cato said.

Virgil nodded and pulled his horse left. We’d been riding together so long that my horse went with him without prompting. Virgil noticed.

“Smart animal,” he said.

“You figure to have trouble with Callico?” I said.

“He ain’t gonna be happy,” Virgil said, “that Pony and his brother flew the coop.”

“True.”

Virgil grinned.

“And Frank Rose will annoy him,” he said.

“Pretty sure,” I said.

“Besides,” Virgil said. “Better prepare for what your enemy can do, not what you think he’s gonna do.”

“True,” I said.

“Who was it said that? German fella?”

“Carl von Clausewitz,” I said. “Book called On War.”

“That’s a good one,” Virgil said. “Best book you ever give me.”

We turned down past the laundry and on past the buildings that lined Main Street. Past the slop barrels, and the privies, the busted wagon wheels and rusting leaf springs, the middens of trash and garbage where coyotes scavenged. We faced Main Street, where the buildings had false fronts. From here you could see that most had been made of green lumber that had split and warped as it dried in the sun. Most towns looked like this from the back side.

“Long way for the police chief of Appaloosa to come chasing a couple of Indians,” I said.

“Wants to be the man brought them fearsome savages to justice,” Virgil said.

“Like Custer,” I said.

Virgil grinned.

“Just like him,” he said.

We turned up the alley between the Excelsior saloon and the feed store and came out on Main Street in back of Callico, where he and his men sat their horses. Cato and Rose had dismounted and spread out in front of the jail to the width of the building.

Rose was talking.

“Got no idea, Chief, where them Indians went,” Rose said.

“How long they been gone?” Callico said.

Rose shook his head slowly. “Hard to say. You know how it is. You notice when you see something. But if you don’t see something, you don’t notice you’re not seeing it.”

“For crissake, Marshal,” Callico said. “When’s the last time you saw them?”

“Week or so, maybe,” Rose said. “My work, one day’s pretty much like another one. Don’t you find it that way?”

“Where were they staying,” Callico said. “While they were here?”

“Guess they slept where they could,” Rose said. “You know how Indians are.”

“One of ’em’s an Indian,” Callico said. “Other one’s a breed.”

“Same thing, ain’t it?” Rose said. “Got Indian blood, they act like Indians. Never seen it to fail. You?”

Callico shook his head. Short, quick shakes like he had a fly in his ear.

“You got anything to tell me about the two fugitives?” he said.

“We lay eyes on ’em,” Rose said, “we’ll arrest them. Ain’t that right, Cato?”

“Sure,” Cato said.

Callico shook his head again, and wheeled his horse and looked at us.

“You men,” he said. “You seen… for crissake!”

“Afternoon, Amos,” Virgil said.

“What the fuck are you doing up here?” Callico said.

“Visitin’.”

“Visiting, my ass,” Callico said. “You come up here and warned them fucking fugitives.”

“Can’t say we did,” Virgil said.

“I got a mind to by God take this town apart until I find them,” Callico said.

Rose’s voice became softer.

“You’re the law in Appaloosa, Callico,” he said. “Me ’n Cato are the law here. Here you ain’t worth lizard scat.”

Like Cato and Rose, we were spread out on our side of the street. I had the eight-gauge. Callico looked at us. Then back at Cato and Rose.

“Cato and Rose,” Callico said. “I heard of you.”

“Hell, Chief,” Rose said. “Everybody heard of us.”

Callico looked back at us.

“Thick as fucking thieves,” he said.

I said, “Sorry we can’t be more helpful, Amos.”

“I can shoot with any of you,” Callico said.

“Probably not sitting on a horse,” Rose said.

“Probably not,” Cato said.

“Come on,” Callico said to his men, and headed his horse up Main Street at a gallop.

33

THE GOING UNDERFOOT was slow on this stretch as we rode south toward Appaloosa. The horses knew they were going home and didn’t need guidance. We gave them their head and, with the reins hanging loose over the saddle horn, let them pick their way through the thorny ground runners and low sage.

“Funny thing,” Virgil said. “’Bout the law.”

On a long ride, Virgil, who often went hours without saying anything, was given to musing aloud.

“What’s that,” I said.

“Up in Resolution,” Virgil said. “With Cato and Rose, we was on the side of the law, and Callico was not. When we get back to Appaloosa, Callico’ll be the law, and we’ll be on the other side of it.”

“True.”

“But we ain’t changed,” Virgil said.

“Nope.”

“Did the law change?” Virgil said.

“People who decide what it is changed,” I said.

“Don’t seem right,” Virgil said.

“Hell, Virgil, you made the law in every town we marshaled.”

“I did,” Virgil said. “Didn’t I.”

“You did,” I said. “Will again.”

“But it didn’t keep changing once I made it,” Virgil said.

“No, it didn’t,” I said. “Still don’t. Never does. When we’re marshaling you make rules and we call it the law. When we ain’t marshaling, you make rules and we call it Virgil Cole.”

The horses waded halfway into a small stream and stopped to drink. While they drank, Virgil thought about that.