I unlocked Bolger’s cell and brought him into the main office and sat him down in a chair next to the potbellied stove.

“There ya go, Bolger,” I said. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Virgil was sitting behind the desk, leaning back in the squeaky banker’s chair. He had his boots crossed on top of the corner of the desk and a cup of coffee in his hand. Chastain was sitting in a chair that backed up to the front window of the office.

“How you feeing, Bolger?” Virgil said.

Bolger didn’t say anything.

Virgil nodded.

“Want some coffee?”

Bolger nodded.

I poured him some coffee and handed it to him.

“Tell me about the dynamite,” Virgil said.

Bolger snapped his chin to his chest and furrowed his brow as he shook his head.

“Dynamite?” he said.

“Yep,” Virgil said.

“Don’t know nothing about no dynamite.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” Bolger said. “Don’t.”

“So, the judge will be here sometime soon,” Virgil said. “The choice is yours.”

“Well,” Bolger said. “Don’t know nothing about no dynamite.”

“What do you want to tell us?” Virgil said.

Bolger looked at Virgil and shook his head a little.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Virgil said.

“I don’t got nothing to say.”

Virgil nodded a little, took a sip of his coffee and set it on the desk.

“If I did have something to say,” Bolger said. “I don’t, but let’s say I did. How is that gonna help me?”

“Like Everett offered,” Virgil said. “We’ll let the judge know you provided us with important information. The good judge will consider your good deed when you stand before him, facing him, on attempted robbery and murder charges.”

“I didn’t rob or murder no one,” Bolger said.

Virgil nodded.

“Like I said,” Virgil said. “Attempted robbery and murder.”

“Need to be goddamn clear on that,” Bolger said.

“We’re real clear on that,” I said. “And we’re also clear on the fact you tried to kill me, a United States territorial deputy marshal, which you will serve a minimum of five years for, just for that. The attempted robbery and murder charges on the other two fellas, Grant and Elliott, will be separate.”

“Shit,” Bolger said with a point out to the street. “Them two silly fellers, it was all their fault.”

“How’s that?” Virgil said.

“I was working for them,” Bolger said. “Hell, it was a job I was okay with. I like driving a rig.”

“That right?” Virgil said.

Bolger nodded.

“But they didn’t pay me like they said they was gonna do. Hell, I’m a good worker,” Bolger said defensively.

Virgil knew who Bolger was. We’d seen men like Bolger a hundred times over the years. The west was full of them, men who came from a bad place, and as life carried on, things only got worse for them. Hardship and heartache were at the core of who they were. Bolger was a man of a simple way, with simple means, simple ambition, and simple instincts. A good enough worker until payday, then he’d drink and gamble and whore his money away. Guys like Bolger were always in and out of jail, drunks mostly, drunks who are just one bad shot away from Hell.

“I don’t got time for your bullshit about you working, Bolger,” Virgil said. “You boys hired on to sneak dynamite up there to the river bridge.”

Bolger shook his head.

“Did not,” he said.

“Bullshit,” Virgil said.

Bolger shook his head.

“You did it,” Virgil said.

“No,” Bolger said with conviction. “I did not.”

“Don’t you lie to me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Bolger was flustered. He shook his head hard.

“You did it,” Virgil said.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Bullshit.”

“I had nothing to do with that.”

“Bullshit!”

“I didn’t,” he said. “Ballard did!”

— 46 —

Bolger sat up knowing he’d mouthed off. He wasn’t too flustered about it because he knew, deep down, he was headed toward that decision, and so did Virgil.

“You both were in on this from the beginning,” Virgil said. “Weren’t you?”

Bolger shook his head.

Virgil, now, didn’t believe Bolger was part of the plan, but he knew the more he included Bolger the more Bolger would defend himself and reveal the truth.

“Bullshit,” Virgil said. “And if you keep on with your bullshit, we’ll move on. Right now, though, we are offering you a way to get your ass outta this sling it’s in.”

“It was Ballard,” Bolger said.

Virgil looked at Chastain, then at me, then at Bolger.

“Where is he?” Virgil said.

“That I do not know,” Bolger said.

“Stop with the bullshit,” Virgil said.

“I done told you he was the one that took up the dynamite,” Bolger said. “I’d tell you where he was if I knew.”

“Who was it that hired him to do this?” Virgil said.

“I don’t know,” Bolger said.

“What do you know?” Virgil said.

Bolger just looked at Virgil for a long moment.

“Tell me about the men he’s involved with,” Virgil said. “Tell me all you know. The more you tell me, the better your chances are. The more you lie, the better your chances are we will see to it your prison stay will be a good one.”

Bolger looked at Virgil again for a long bit.

Virgil nodded for Bolger to talk.

“Well, shit,” Bolger said. “I don’t know who he’s involved with. I don’t. I been in Appaloosa for a while. Doing pretty okay. I had a few jobs here and there, but nothing really stuck. Then I got this here job with them boys. Like I told you, I was okay with it. Then my brother, he come to town.”

“From where?” Virgil said.

“Wyoming.”

“What was he doing in Wyoming?”

Bolger shrugged.

“He was up there chasing some pussy.”

“What pussy?”

“Oh, some woman he got himself buggered up with,” Bolger said. “I don’t know.”

“What kind of buggered up with?”

“He got his ass throwed in jail over her,” Bolger said.

“For?” Virgil said.

“I guess she belong to someone else, some lawman,” Bolger said. “Ballard and this lawman got into a fight, and I guess Ballard messed him up real good. Not a good idea to get into it with Ballard, lawman or no lawman. Ballard did, though, manage to get thrown in jail there. Spent sixty days, and when he got out he came here to see me.”

“Go on,” Virgil said.

Bolger looked to the floor, shaking his head.

“Tell us what went down,” Virgil said.

“He started working with me,” Bolger said. “I told him I was doing okay. Keeping outta trouble and that I didn’t want no trouble. Things was going okay for a little while, but things don’t go okay for too long when Ballard gets involved. He got put out, started doing other stuff.”

“What other stuff?”

“Whores,” Bolger said. “Said it paid better and smelled better.”

“Pimpin’,” I said.

“I guess you could call it that,” Bolger said. “He made sure customers’ payments were made in full.”

“Where?”

“A place called the Back Door.”

Virgil looked to me.

I nodded.

“Know it,” I said. “That’s the house we saw them redoing last summer.”

“North of town?” Virgil said.

I nodded.

“A high-end whorin’ establishment,” Chastain said. “A good stock place. Caters to the big-money men in town.”

“Who runs the place?” Virgil said.

“Owned by two mine owners,” Chastain said. “Operated by some whore they brought in from Cincinnati named Belle.”

Virgil looked back to Bolger.

“I never been over there,” Bolger said. “Ballard was working there, though. He’s got a way with women. Until they really know him, that is. Then they scare. Always some dealing with Ballard and women.”

“He spell out the deal to you?”

“Some.”

“What do you know?” Virgil said.

“A whore there introduced Ballard to a one of her clients,” Bolger said.