Virgil nodded.
“For a while. He was five years older. He was gone by sixteen.”
“I’ll be damn...” I said. “Valentine Pell.”
Virgil nodded.
“Rhymes with hell,” Virgil said.
“Same name as his old man...” Virgil said. “Valentine Pell. He was a lawman turned outlaw...”
“You knew his father?”
Virgil looked over to Valentine again. He stared at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly.
“Not sure anyone knew that old sonofabitch... after my dad died... I was ten, Val was fifteen; his old man, Valentine Senior, comes back around... Not real fond memories, Everett... That was when Val took off and left Mom and me there to fend for ourselves... After some time... he took off again... Not long after that the man got himself shot and killed.”
Virgil shook his head a little, as if he still did not believe who it was, that a person from his past, a member of his family, would actually be in his presence. I, too, was having a hard time with the notion.
Nothing about Virgil had ever made me think much about his family or that he even had a family. I’m not sure why. I guess I’ve always felt some business is better left unsaid. I know there is not much about any of what I did before today that really amounts to much in terms of memory.
I never thought about Virgil being anything but Virgil or anything but just perfectly present in the here and now. Maybe that is why the idea of his family, or the idea of him even having a family, seemed improbable and was a subject that we never engaged in.
Maybe he discussed his history with Allie, but I seriously doubt it. For certain Virgil never discussed family matters, so I figured it was not open for discussion, but now family was here and it was in the form of a colorful and enigmatic brother with the unusual name of Valentine Pell.
“They were the same person, those two,” Virgil said. “His old man and him, cut from the same cloth.”
Valentine finished his hand of cards and came into the front bar and joined Virgil and me. He was big and he walked as if he were even bigger.
“Goddamn, it is good to see you, Virgil,” Valentine said.
“Kind of figured it’d be you,” Virgil said.
Valentine smiled a big grin and patted Virgil on the back. Then he leaned forward on the bar, reached across Virgil, and held out his hand for me to shake.
“You must be Everett Hitch,” he said.
I nodded and shook his hand.
“Pleasure to meet you,” he said. “I have heard all about you and the big gun you carry.”
“Eight-gauge,” I said.
Then he looked at Virgil and grinned again.
“Still not shaking hands, Virgil?”
Virgil didn’t say anything.
“Picked that up from his old man,” Valentine said.
Virgil looked at Valentine without a hint of an expression on his face.
“Well, shit,” Valentine said, “I just can’t get over it, as I live and breathe, Virgil. And a goddamn marshal to boot.”
Valentine clapped his hands a few times. It was unwelcome applause.
“And I hear you have a fine wife and a house with a fenced-in yard,” Valentine said. “Allison, right? Allison French, Allie?”
Virgil didn’t say anything.
“Part of my job to know these things, Virgil,” he said. “Just like you.”
“We’re not alike,” Virgil said.
Valentine laughed, then turned to Fat Wallis, who was leaning on the back of the bar with his arms folded across his big belly, observing the room.
“Excuse me, gentleman, sir,” Valentine said. “Might I have a bottle of your finest whiskey and three glasses?”
Valentine looked to Virgil.
“You will have a drink with me, won’t you, Virgil?” he said.
“On me, of course, and you, too, Everett.”
I looked to Virgil. Virgil stared at Valentine, then nodded slightly to Wallis.
Wallis set the glasses in front of each one of us and poured.
“Thank you, kind sir,” Valentine said.
Wallis nodded, then set the bottle in front of us and moved off to the other end of the bar.
Valentine raised his glass.
“To my little brother,” he said.
39
Valentine smiled and drank his whiskey. Virgil looked at him for a long moment, took a sip of whiskey, and set his glass on the bar in front of him.
“Said you’d just as soon be dead as to ever cross the Mississippi again,” Virgil said.
“I say that?”
Virgil stared at him for a long amount of time, then offered a sharp drop of his chin.
“Did.”
“I lied,” Valentine said.
“You did that, too,” Virgil said.
“Well, there you have it,” Valentine said. “Intentions sometimes just go awry.”
“Awry?” Virgil said. “More to the fact, truth was never something you was ever too concerned with.”
Valentine laughed.
“Well, now, hell, Virgil, truth is way over appreciated.”
Virgil shook his head a little.
“Over appreciated?” Virgil said.
Valentine laughed, then looked to me.
“Over appreciated. ’Sides, plans are like goddamn rail tracks, they just put you places and that is it, buy a ticket and you go there. I prefer the open road as opposed to being staked in the yard like a chicken-chasing dog.”
I was beginning to see some similarities between Virgil and Valentine. They were kind of like the opposite sides of a coin.
“I was in some trouble,” Valentine said. “Spent a little time in jail over here for it, nothing serious. Virgil never really...”
“Robbery,” Virgil said.
“He’s a stickler for details.”
“You shot a man in the process.”
“He pulled on me,” Valentine said.
Valentine smiled at me and continued. He was addressing me with his talk, but he was really talking to Virgil.
“Anyway,” he said. “This bone-dry country was bothering the hell out of me, so I made my way back to the more civilized world. According to Virgil, I verbalized I would not come back this way, that’s what Virgil is talking about. Isn’t that right, Virgil?”
Virgil didn’t answer him.
“So, hell, let’s see... I been back on this side for the last ten years,” he said.
“Heard rumblings of that,” Virgil said.
“Was hoping I’d find you someplace along the road, that I’d get to see you, Virgil, that you’d be doing okay.”
Valentine picked up the bottle and filled the glasses.
“And now, after all these years, here you are.”
“Yep,” Virgil said.
“My little brother,” he said.
Virgil calmly stared at his whiskey.
Valentine looked at Virgil and smiled a little, but Virgil did not look at him.
“Was east there for a spell, New York, Boston. Like the wine, and the food is a hell of a lot better, but I got tired of those goddamn Yankees. They are different. Was in Chicago, too. I like Chicago. Ever been to Chicago, Everett?”
“I have,” I said.
“It is a decent place,” Valentine said. “But way by God cold Chicago... Worked my way back, was in Abilene there for a bit, then Denver for a while, then eventually made my way down to Texas. Goddamn Texas.”
He smiled and nodded to me a little.
“I’ve been doing pretty well, Virgil,” he said. “Don’t have a special lady friend like you, but I get by...”
Virgil crossed his arms and leaned back, and Valentine leveled a look at him.
“Don’t worry, Virgil, I’m here on business,” he said. “Nothing for you to worry yourself about... but I won’t be gone until I get paid for my services rendered. Money well deserved, too, I have to say. I waited on him for days before I caught him.”
“Where?”