— 40 —

Oh, my goodness,” Allie said. “I can’t believe Beauregard was arrested. Here in Appaloosa. How embarrassing.”

“He didn’t seem all that embarrassed,” Virgil said. “Did he, Everett?”

“Didn’t,” I said.

“I’m not talking about him being embarrassed,” Allie said. “I’m talking about me, about Appaloosa.”

“What are you embarrassed about?” Virgil said.

“This man, this renowned performer, has come here to Appaloosa to give us some culture, some entertainment, and he gets arrested?” Allie said.

“He did,” Virgil said.

“It’s just awful,” Allie said.

“Not sure I’d call scaring the daylights out of his wife culture or entertainment,” Virgil said.

“If he said he was practicing, he was practicing,” Allie said. “You don’t understand entertainment. You know nothing about practicing theatrical performance, Virgil Cole.”

“Sure I do,” Virgil said. “It ain’t practicing, it’s got its own special name, don’t it, Everett?”

“Rehearsing,” I said.

“That’s right,” Virgil said. “Rehearsing.”

“Well,” Allie said. “I’m downright embarrassed over this, Virgil. Appaloosa is embarrassed.”

“Pretty sure Appaloosa don’t give a shit,” Virgil said.

“They do,” she said.

Allie turned sideways in her chair with her right elbow on the dining table and her shoulders slumped. She looked like she was gonna cry.

“Well, Allie,” I said, as I got out of my chair and gathered plates off the table. “If it’s any comfort to you, I really enjoyed this dinner you fixed tonight.”

Allie wobbled her head a little and offered a slight smile.

“Why, thank you, Everett,” Allie said. “At least one of you is grateful of me.”

“Oh, goddamn, Allie,” Virgil said. “I’m grateful of you, Allie.”

“Are not,” she said.

“I am, Allie,” Virgil said. “I wasn’t the one that arrested him. Hell, I was the one that let him out.”

“He was, Allie,” I said from the kitchen.

“Really?” Allie said.

“He was,” I said, coming back from the kitchen to gather more plates.

Allie smiled a little. I think that made her feel better.

“Well,” she said. “I know it has to be hard for them with this weather, the whole troupe cooped up in those trailers, going on days now.”

Virgil nodded. He reached over and grabbed Allie’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

“I love you, Allie,” he said.

She smiled at Virgil.

“I love you, too, Virgil.”

Virgil got up from the table. He walked to the mantel and got a cigar from his cigar box.

“You’re not gonna smoke that in here, are you, Virgil?” Allie said.

“Wouldn’t think of it,” Virgil said.

Virgil put on his coat and stepped out the front door.

Allie got out of her chair and helped me finish cleaning off the table.

“I don’t think Virgil really has a real bone to pick with Beauregard,” I said.

“I’m not so sure,” Allie said. “I think he’s jealous.”

“Virgil don’t get jealous,” I said. “You know that, Allie. Fact is, if there’s one thing he personally don’t know nothing about, it’s jealousy.”

“Oh,” Allie said. “I suppose you’re right, Everett. Maybe that’s wishful thinking, what I miss.”

“What you miss?”

“A woman likes to know her man is so interested in her he don’t like to think about her having any other interest.”

“You got other interest?” I said.

“Of course not,” Allie said. “I’m speaking theoretically.”

“Theoretically?”

“Yes,” she said, then leaned her hip on the counter. “You know, a woman needs attention, Everett.”

I poured some hot water that was heating on the stovetop in the dirty dishes into the washbasin.

“Virgil just don’t like to see a woman, any woman, treated with disrespect. Whether she’s practicing or rehearsing or what,” I said.

Allie was just looking at me. Watching me.

“Most important, though,” I said. “Right now, we got bad dealings. A no-good bunch of business we’re dealing with, Allie, far more important business than Beauregard getting himself locked up and you needing attention. We got a two-hundred-foot bridge, no telling how many tons of iron that spanned the Rio Blanco River, blown up by somebody, somebody that is out there on the loose, and we got three Appaloosa law officials, good men, out there somewhere, missing.”

— 41 —

I walked the streets of Appaloosa. The city was quiet. The evening was cold, and most every business, even the saloons, was shut down. The snow had stopped, but it was deep and I couldn’t see where the boardwalks stopped and the streets began.

The newly installed street lamps were not lit and there was no traffic moving about on the boardwalks or streets. It was cold, dead still, and silent out.

I stopped in at the sheriff’s office and paid Chastain, Book, and Skinny Jack a visit.

The three men were sitting around the warmth of the potbellied stove, playing blackjack on a crate, when I opened the door.

“Howdy, boys,” I said.

I kicked the doorjamb, freeing my trousers and boots of snow before I entered.

The three of them looked at me with somber expressions.

“You get some word?” I said.

They shook their heads.

“No,” Chastain said. “We just keep thinking they’ll walk through the door any minute.”

I nodded.

“Just me,” I said, and closed the door behind me.

I walked over to the men and looked down at the card game.

“Who’s winning?” I said.

“I am, of course,” Book said.

“Chubby shit’s a card counter,” Chastain said.

“I can’t help it if I’m a good thinker,” Book said.

“Shit,” Skinny Jack said. “Just luck.”

I put my eight-gauge in the gun rack behind the desk. And hung my shell belt next to it on a hook.

“Find out any news of Walton Wayne Swickey’s whereabouts?” I said to Chastain.

Chastain sat back and shook his head.

“Not as of yet,” Chastain said. “Got a number of wires out. The office said they’d let me know first response.”

“Need to find him,” I said.

“I will,” Chastain said.

“Like Cole asked, I contacted the governor’s office with his wire,” Chastain said. “I let them know about the bridge. ’Spect they will know something shortly.”

“’Spect they will,” I said.

I walked back over near the desk. I could see Bolger through the open door between the cells and office. He was looking at me. I looked back at him.

I nodded to him and he looked to the floor. I continued to look at him sitting there on the bunk and then something occurred to me, something that I’d not thought about.

Could by God be . . . I thought, as I walked over to the door and looked in on him.

“Bolger?” I said.

He looked up.

“Hum?”

“Let me ask you a question,” I said.

“You can ask,” Bolger said. “Can’t guarantee you any answers, though.”

“Tell me about the buckboard,” I said.

“What buckboard?” he said.

“The one you used to take the goods up to the bridge camp,” I said. “That buckboard.”

“What about it?”

“It yours?” I said.

Bolger just looked at me.

“Is it?”

“Is,” he said. “Why?”

“Where is it?”

“Got stoled.”

“Somebody took it?”

“Yep.”

“Your brother?” I said.

Bolger looked away from my eyes.

“He the one who took it?”

“Now, why would my brother steal my buckboard?”

“You tell me?” I said.

“He didn’t,” Bolger said.

“You and him got into it?” I said.

“He’s gonna find you,” Bolger said.

“Didn’t you?” I said.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Bolger said.

“You and your brother?” I said. “When you traveled back and forth to the bridge camp, did you use the shortcut?”

Bolger just looked at me.