Before we took off for Loblolly Mills in search of Swickey, we stopped in at the mayor’s office to pay Ashley Epps a visit.

When we entered, Ashley was sitting behind his desk and a pretty young woman was sitting across from him as he dictated a note to her. He held up one finger for us to give him a moment.

We did.

When he finished with God Bless, Yours Truly, Ashley Epps, he thanked the young woman.

She nodded.

“Will that be all?” she said.

“Yes, Silvia,” Ashley said.

She curtsied a little to Ashley and offered us a smile on her way out.

Ashley stood up to greet us.

“Marshal Cole, Deputy Marshal Hitch, good to see you both. Please have a seat,” he said.

We sat opposite his desk.

“How are you?” he said.

Virgil said nothing.

“Been better,” I said.

Virgil nodded.

“I hope you are here to tell me you’ve apprehended the men responsible for the bridge?” Ashley said.

Virgil looked to me.

“What about the bridge?” I said.

Ashley looked back and forth between Virgil and me.

“Well,” Ashley said. “Curtis Whittlesey told me.”

“What’d he tell you?” I said.

“He told me about the bridge,” Ashley said. “That it had been destroyed.”

Virgil nodded a little.

“I wish you would have let me know,” Ashley said.

“Sounds like we didn’t need to let you know,” Virgil said.

“Yes, well, I am the mayor,” Ashley said, “as well as the minister, and it’s my duty to serve and console those in need.”

“Just had to keep this news from spreading the best we could,” I said.

“That’s hard to do with Curtis Whittlesey having knowledge,” Ashley said.

“Seems to be,” I said.

“Nevertheless,” Ashley said. “I’ve prayed for all those involved for God’s Peace to be with them.”

“Be with them?” Virgil said.

“Yes?” Ashley said.

“Peace be with who?” Virgil said.

“Well,” Ashley said. “Those involved, of course.”

“Don’t think God’s got much to do with this one,” Virgil said.

Ashley looked to me.

I didn’t say anything.

After Ashley continued with his concerns about his authority, we gave him the news of our Appaloosa lawmen. We didn’t provide any details, other than they had been killed in the line of duty and that a formal announcement needed to be made.

“Those fellas,” Virgil said, “you can talk with God about.”

We didn’t waste any more time and bid Ashley good day, leaving him shaken and with tears in his eyes.

Virgil and I walked out of the Rains Civic Building and mounted up. We turned our horses and started to ride when we heard Skinny Jack.

“Hold up,” he shouted.

We pulled up and looked back. Skinny Jack was coming up the boardwalk at a quick pace and Book was trying to keep up behind him.

“What is it?” I said.

“Goddamn glad we caught you,” Skinny Jack said, out of breath.

“What is it?”

“Don’t think you need to go looking for Swickey,” Skinny Jack said.

“Why?” I said.

“The sonofabitch is here,” Skinny Jack said.

“In Appaloosa?” I said.

“He is,” Skinny Jack said, trying to catch his breath.

“Where?” Virgil said.

“Scared the shit outta us,” Skinny Jack said. “Him and three men walked into the office just a while ago.”

“And?” Virgil said.

Book caught up with Skinny Jack.

“Said he was looking for you,” Skinny Jack said.

“Where you say we were?” I said.

“We didn’t,” Skinny Jack said. “We told them we didn’t know.”

Book nodded.

“We thought you’d be most likely gone already,” Book said, as he worked to catch his breath.

“We thought you’d most likely already left to go find him,” Skinny Jack said. “But we didn’t say so.”

“Glad to know you’re here,” Book said. “They’re heeled, too.”

“Where are they now?” Virgil said.

“Boston House,” Skinny Jack said.

— 56 —

Boston House?More of the goddamnBoston House, I thought.

“He said for us to find you,” Book said.

“What else he say?” Virgil said.

Skinny Jack looked to Book.

“That’s it,” Skinny Jack said. “Find you and let you know he’d be waiting on you.”

Virgil looked at me.

“What do you make of that?” I said.

“Don’t know,” Virgil said.

“Saves us from riding to Loblolly Mills to hunt the sonofabitch down.”

“Damn sure does,” Virgil said.

“What the hell is he doing here?” I said.

“’Spect we’ll find out,” Virgil said.

“Not friendly,” Book said.

Skinny Jack nodded.

“No,” Skinny Jack said. “Not overly.”

“Chastain at the jail?” Virgil said.

“No,” Book said. “Just the two of us in this morning.”

“He should be in directly,” Skinny Jack said.

“Book,” Virgil said. “Go back and keep house. Skinny Jack, you come with us.”

“What should I do?” Book said.

“Just be there,” Virgil said. “Let Chastain know when he comes in.”

“Okay,” Book said.

Virgil and I rode up the street in the swirling snow to the Boston House and Skinny Jack followed alongside.

When we got to the Boston House we saw the transportation belonging to Swickey and the three others. Two horses and an enclosed buggy, hitched to two sturdy horses, with their heads in muzzle feeders.

We stopped shy of the hotel and tied our horses to a hitch in front of the lumberyard.

“Skinny Jack,” Virgil said, as he pulled his Winchester from its scabbard. “Don’t really know what to expect. I don’t think they got any intentions, but just in case, you just stay out on the porch over here. Everett and me will go inside and see what is what. If for some reason they do have intentions and things get lit up in there, and we don’t come out for some reason, maybe one of them does, you hang back here with this Winchester and kill him.”

Skinny Jack took the Winchester from Virgil. His Adam’s apple went up, then down, as he nodded.

Virgil and I walked up the boardwalk to the hotel.

“You take the side entrance, Everett,” Virgil said. “I’ll come in from the lobby. Give me ten.”

I nodded, and started counting ten seconds so to give Virgil time to come in through the front entrance. When I got to ten I pushed open the side door just as Virgil came through the pocket doors leading into the lobby.

Wallis wasn’t in. His second barkeep, a young Irishman named O’Malley, was behind the bar and the saloon was empty except for the four men sitting near the bar at the big round eight-player table, drinking coffee.

They looked first to me standing with my eight-gauge and then to Virgil with his frock pulled behind his bone-handle.

A big man leaned back in his chair, looking back and forth between Virgil and me.

“Which one of you is Virgil Cole?” he said in a huge, commanding voice.

“Who’s asking?” Virgil said.

The man took his hat off and stood.

“I’m guessing that’d be you,” he said to Virgil.

Virgil didn’t say anything.

“I’m Walton Wayne Swickey,” he said.

Swickey was well over six feet tall. He was clean-shaven and powerful-looking. His hair was cut tight to the sides of his head but the top was a thick crop of dark gray. His face was weathered but strong. He had high cheekbones and deep-set pale blue eyes. He wore a dark pin-striped wool suit with a vest and a string tie. Like Book said, he was heeled. He had a butt-forward pearl-handled Colt in a black leather holster.

The three men with him scooted back from the table a bit. The three were younger than Swickey, but all were tough-looking, and they, too, were heeled. One of them looked familiar. I was thinking back, curious if maybe this was one of the dressers I saw ride by Hal’s Café.

“You Cole?” Swickey said to Virgil.

“I am,” Virgil said.

“I understand you’ve been looking for me,” Swickey said.