“Like you told Book, we got someone on lookout at every road trail leading out of town,” Chastain said.
“What time was that?” Virgil said.
“’Bout five or so,” Book said.
“If the sumbitches ain’t already gone from Appaloosa, they won’t get gone,” Chastain said. “Not this time.”
“We even sent four men down to the ford,” Book said. “In case they had that on their mind again.”
Chastain walked into Black’s cell.
“Can’t believe this shit?” Chastain said, shaking his head and looking at Black’s cell window that was missing its bars. “That’s what we goddamn get for having strong damn bedrails.”
He picked up one of the bars that had been removed from the window.
“Look at this shit,” Chastain said. “He’s a big strong sumbitch, I will give him that. He managed to work those bed railings free that were bolted to the goddamn floor. Then he used them to pry the bars inside the window.”
“That opening was tight for him, too,” Book said. “Hard to see how he got his big frame through there.”
“Well, he damn sure did. Then he got goddamn Truitt out,” Chastain said, pointing to the window in Truitt’s cell. “He got out and then he pried those damn bars there from the outside.”
“I found these outside on the ground under Truitt’s window,” Book said, pointing to the rails leaning against the wall. “Been a lot of big, tough, strong men locked in these cells and, well, this is certainly a first.”
“When did somebody last have eyes on them?” Virgil said.
“Neil and Matt were on night duty,” Book said. “Neil said he shut the door here a little past ten o’clock.”
Book looked over and picked up a Bible and set it on the small table in Black’s cell.
“Neil said Black asked for this Bible,” Book said as he fanned the pages. “Neil said he gave it to him and then shut the door. That was the last anyone saw of them.”
Virgil looked at me.
“Black got started right away on getting this frame out of the floor,” Virgil said.
“Took a while, too, I suspect,” I said.
Virgil nodded.
“Don’t figure they been out all that long,” Virgil said.
Melvin and Luis, two of Chastain’s young deputies, came quickly into the office. Melvin was a big strapping kid covered with a constellation of freckles and Luis was a small Mexican fella with deep-set eyes and a scruffy goatee.
They were both out of breath as they poked their heads in the door.
“We got something,” Luis said, leaning over and breathing hard.
“What?” Chastain said.
“Found two horses and two saddles that were stolen early this morning,” Melvin said.
“Where?” Virgil said as he moved toward Melvin and Luis.
The two deputies backed into the front office with Virgil. Chastain, Book, and I followed.
“They were taken from the corral behind Mankin’s Mining outfit at the end of Fourth,” Melvin said with a point in that direction.
“Anybody see Black or Truitt?” Chastain said.
“No, sir,” Luis said. “Mr. Mankin said he found one of his three horses standing outside of his bedroom window this morning.”
Melvin quickly nodded in agreement.
“Said it woke him up,” Melvin said. “‘Chewing on the damn sill of the window. Said he didn’t think too much about it, thought the other two horses were just out, wandering around grazing someplace, then he saw the shed door was open, too, looked inside and found that two of his saddles were missing.”
“What time was this?” Virgil said.
Luis looked to Melvin.
“About four this morning,” Melvin said.
“You boys get back out there and check with the others,” Virgil said to Melvin and Luis, “see if anybody’s seen anything.”
Virgil followed them out onto the boardwalk and we followed Virgil.
“Everybody,” Virgil said to Melvin and Luis as they mounted up, “needs to keep their eyes open.”
Melvin and Luis swung up in a hurry and rode off.
Chastain looked at his watch.
“Almost seven now,” he said.
“They most likely got out and got those horses pretty close to when Mankin found them gone,” I said.
“Still kind of early,” Book said. “Not too many folks up and moving about just yet.”
“What now?” Chastain said.
Virgil thought for a moment, then said, “Where’s the painter?”
65
“LaCroix?” Chastain said.
“Yep,” Virgil said.
Chastain shook his head and looked at me.
“Not seen him,” I said.
“Me, either,” Chastain said.
“Been over a week since Black put him in the hospital,” I said.
“Last time I laid eyes on him,” Chastain said, “was when he was carried out of the courtroom, flat on his back on a stretcher.”
“Could be long gone,” I said.
“I did talk with Doc Burris about him,” Chastain said. “Saw him at the café. He said LaCroix was pissing blood. But that was not long after he was there in the hospital. Even then the Doc said he thought he was going to be all right, would be moving on, just needed to recover, heal up and such, thought the pissing blood business would go away... why?”
“There is a chance he could still be here licking his wounds,” I said.
Chastain looked to me, then to Virgil.
“You think Black would go after LaCroix?” Chastain said.
“Might,” Virgil said.
Chastain nodded.
“Be dumb of him, though, don’t you think?” Chastain said. “To get out of jail and bother with him?”
“Maybe not,” Virgil said.
“He damn sure tried to kill him in the courtroom that day. Damn near beat that poor sumbitch within an inch of his life before we could pull him off.”
Virgil nodded.
“In court,” he said. “He did.”
Virgil looked at me.
Chastain looked back and forth between us and nodded a little.
“But now you don’t think so?” Chastain said.
“Don’t know,” Virgil said. “Black was damn sure mad enough to kill, no doubt about that. But now could be a different story.”
“Get to the crux,” I said.
“It’s his only chance,” Virgil said.
Chastain looked back and forth between Virgil and me again and shook his head.
“That guy, LaCroix. He seemed pretty straightforward convincing to me, Virgil,” Chastain said.
“He was calm,” I said.
“Until he was trying to crawdad backward to save his life,” Chastain said.
Virgil stood looking off down the street but didn’t say anything.
“LaCroix seemed solid to me,” Chastain said, “and though the judge was... I don’t know, kind of off goddamn kilter somewhat, I believe the jury and judge made the right decision.”
“There is that,” Virgil said.
“Let’s say he did lie about Black,” Chastain said. “Why? Why would he do that?”
“Don’t know,” Virgil said.
Chastain looked at the ground and nodded some.
“Something personal,” he said.
“Or somebody put him up to it,” I said. “One of the two.”
“Or not,” Virgil said.
“But that is your hunch?” Chastain said.
“Could be something to it,” Virgil said.
“Who?” Chastain said. “Why?”
“Cops, maybe,” I said.
“Why, though?” Chastain said. “Roger is dead and gone. Damn sure too late to clear him.”
I shook my head.
“Or someone just wanted to see Black fucking hang,” Chastain said.
“Maybe,” I said. “Though Black thought he was the only one that was having his way with Ruth Ann, there has been plenty of reason not to buy into that theory.”