“Once we know,” I said, “that it is for sure Truitt and Black, I suspect we’ll ask them polite-like if they want to go peaceful with us back to Appaloosa. Go from there.”
My tall bay worked the hell out of the bit in his mouth, then lowered his head, shook it hard and let out a loud snort.
“Hush,” I said, and pushed his butt up to the wall.
Virgil took a few steps out of the alley. He looked to the left, then right. I moved up next to him.
“Be best to not walk directly across, don’t you think?”
“I do,” Virgil said.
We stepped up on the porch of a feed store, stayed under the plaza’s awnings, and worked our way around the town square toward the cantina.
I slid back the hammers of the eight-gauge as we neared and Virgil pulled his bone-handled Colt.
It was late enough that nobody was out on the plaza moving about. We came up on the twelve dozy horses hitched in front of a cantina with no name, no sign. Virgil edged up and peeked in the window.
Another spirited song started up, and with it some foot stomping and vigorous yelps.
Virgil looked to me and nodded.
I nodded back.
He tilted his head and I followed him into the saloon.
The barroom was small and full of happy-faced drunk men and a few unsightly equally drunk women having a festive time. A fat rosy-faced fella with a red scruffy beard was pounding on the piano. He was accompanied by a skinny kid sawing on the fiddle and a short, round woman dancing around and laughing as she showed the partiers the underside of her frilly dress.
Boston Bill was nowhere to be seen, but Truitt saw Virgil and me right away. He got to his feet, not real fast but not real slow, and took a step backward.
“Happy Birthday, Truitt,” Virgil said.
24
The piano player, fiddler, and dancer stopped their performance and turned their attention to Virgil and me standing in the doorway, holding weapons pointed in their direction. Looking down the bores of a double-barrel eight-gauge always altered the atmosphere in a room. For the moment, Truitt was like everyone else in the room, completely unsure what to do, so Virgil spelled it out for him.
“You’re under arrest, Truitt.”
Truitt stood slack-jawed, looking at Virgil. He was lankier and his blond hair was longer than it had been when we last laid eyes on him. He turned his head slightly to the side, eyeing Virgil with a testing look.
“I’ll be damned,” he said.
“That’d be your choice.”
Truitt smiled a little.
“But there are better choices to make,” Virgil said.
Truitt shook his head slowly.
“Virgil Cole.”
“It is... And Everett Hitch. You remember Everett, don’t you, Truitt?”
Truitt glared at me but didn’t say anything. Then he looked back to Virgil.
“Under arrest for what?” he said.
“Right now it is attempted murder,” Virgil said. “There is a good chance, though, the man you shot will die, and if that happens you will be charged with murder.”
Truitt didn’t say anything.
“Fella you shot was a policeman,” Virgil said.
“He pulled and I shot him in self-defense.”
“Plenty of witnesses that will testify otherwise,” Virgil said, “so that will be for the judge to decide.”
“That’s bullshit,” Truitt said.
“It’s not,” Virgil said. “You also been helping a wanted man.”
Virgil glanced about the room a little.
“Where is he?” Virgil said.
“Who?”
“No reason to start acting like you are more of a dumbass than you are, Truitt,” Virgil said.
Truitt’s eyes narrowed.
“Who’s the dumbass?” Truitt said.
“What do you think, Everett?” Virgil said.
“I think the more you help us out, Truitt, the better your chances will be.”
“You been with him since you left Appaloosa, Truitt. You show some cooperation here, and I will be sure and let the judge know how helpful you were when we take you in.”
Truitt shook his head and looked around the room at his friends.
“Just two of you,” Truitt said.
“Oh, we have help,” Virgil said. “Wouldn’t undervalue your lack of sense or judgment.”
Truitt looked to the window and leaned a little, looking out the front door. He smiled, then looked around the room at his friends. His teeth were white and straight, and he had a charming, boyish smile. He looked back to Virgil and stopped smiling.
“This is my town, my people,” he said. “You really think the two of you can arrest me?”
“I don’t think.”
Truitt looked around the room at his friends again.
“I guess not,” Truitt said. “Guess you don’t think... Not a good idea coming in here, throwing claims around in front of my friends.”
“Speaking of friends, what’s the young fella’s name, Everett, that swore on his granny’s Bible we’d find Truitt here, at this cantina, Ricky what?”
“Ravenfield.”
“That’s right,” Virgil said. “Ricky Ravenfield.”
“He also said you got jumpy and shot the policeman,” I said.
Truitt stared at me.
“Ricky was not too happy you left him.”
“Fuck him,” Truitt said.
“No need,” Virgil said. “Ricky’s dead.”
Truitt stared at Virgil.
“Shot himself,” Virgil said.
“Bullshit.”
“Not,” Virgil said. “Before he did, though, he swore on his granny’s Bible you’d be here, and, well, sure enough, he was right.”
Truitt looked around the room at everyone looking at him, then looked to Virgil.
“You planning on taking on everybody in this room?”
“Not planning on taking on anybody, Truitt,” Virgil said. “But like I said, whether you go to hell or not is your call. You should just let the judge handle this, go from there.”
Sweat was beading up on Truitt’s face.
“So let’s get on with it, Truitt,” Virgil said.
A big, angular-looking man that was sitting next to Truitt got slowly out of his chair.
“You ain’t taking nobody nowhere,” the man said.
“You must be one of the two Ricky said he didn’t care for so much,” Virgil said.
“Fuck you and fuck Ricky,” the man said.
“You Walt or Douglas?” I said.
The man glanced at me, then looked back to Virgil.
“Truitt,” Virgil said. “Let’s not waste any more of my and Everett’s time.”
“Get on,” the big man said. “We got you outnumbered so you two better get the fuck on down the road or you’ll not live to talk about what will happen here if you don’t.”
Virgil took one step toward the big man.
“There is only one thing for certain, one very sure thing that will happen here tonight if you choose to pull on me,” Virgil said. “And that is you will be dead, no matter.”
A heavyset man to my right had been slowly inching his way more to my side the whole time we’d been in the room. I was watching him, just like Virgil had been watching him out of the corner of his eye. Virgil saw everything.
“Far enough,” Virgil said, without looking directly at the heavyset man.
The heavyset man scoffed a little, and because he was to our side he thought he had the speed, the snap. He reached, but Virgil shot him in the chest before he could get his revolver out.
The big man next to Truitt thought this was his chance, too. He moved fast, flipping the table in front of him, and pulled his revolver. But just as he went down behind the wooden tabletop, Virgil’s second shot hit him in the forehead and blood splattered across Truitt’s face.
“Goddamn,” Truitt said.
Truitt stood with his hands up a bit and away from his sides, making sure we didn’t suspect he was going to go for his sidearm.