I walked back in the front door from taking care of the horses, and Virgil was still sitting in a cane-back chair in front of Vince’s cell with the Henry rifle resting in his lap. He was doing the same thing he was doing when I had stepped out, questioning Vince. Deputy Larson was asleep in a corner chair, and Berkeley was yawning wide as he stirred a pot of boiling coffee.
I walked over behind the main desk and took a seat in what looked like a comfortable chair, but when I sat on the cushion I felt Bob’s parfleche pouch under my butt. I freed the long strap from my shoulder, put the pouch on the desk, and let my butt settle into the cushioned seat. I put my leg over the edge of the desk and seriously thought about sleep. Vince and Virgil were both visible from where I was sitting.
Vince was sitting on the bunk with his elbows resting on his knees, looking at the floor. I could tell he was tired of Virgil’s questioning. Before I had stepped out, Vince had told Virgil everything he knew about the Yankee, and what he said pretty much matched what Dean had told us.
“So why did the Yankee target you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You were in Wichita Falls, playing Seven-Up at the Bluebell Pool Palace and the Yankee asked you to be a part of this robbery?”
“It came up I was a train hand. I told him I worked as a brakeman. I worked for a couple of different railways, Union Pacific being the main line, but got laid off after the air brakes took over.”
Virgil looked at me and back to Vince.
“George Westinghouse.”
“That’s right,” Vince said disgustingly with his Irish brogue. “The Yankee said he had a job and he needed somebody that was familiar with trains.”
“Why was it you set the Pullman on fire?”
“I didn’t.”
“Who did?”
“The other fellow.”
“Who?”
“I never met him before.”
“But you met him tonight?”
Vince nodded.
“He was?”
“Bob Brandice. He got on, boarded with the Yankee. Bob’s a mean son of a bitch.”
“Why?”
“Why?” Vince said. “He’s a mean son of a bitch. That is why.”
“Why’d he set the Pullman on fire?”
“He threw a damn lantern. The fire kicked off quick.”
“Why?”
Vince shook his head.
“He was mad I would not stop the coaches from rolling backward.”
“Why was he mad?”
“When I knew we had you and Everett to deal with, I was not about to go back looking for the Yankee who double-crossed us. But when it came out, when I said your name, when I said Virgil Cole, Bob got angry. He insisted we stop.”
“And you wouldn’t.”
“Hell, no, I wouldn’t.”
“Why?”
“So I would not have to see you or Everett Hitch. Hell, it would be all right with me if I never saw the two of you ever again, including right now.”
Virgil looked at me and smiled.
56
Berkeley pulled the coffeepot from the stove. He poured cups and handed them around. The first cups he passed through the bars to Vince and the other prisoner. They both looked at the coffee like it might be poisoned.
“Just coffee, boys,” Berkeley said.
Berkeley poured more cups. He gave one to Virgil, then me. He kicked the chair where Larson was sleeping. Larson looked about, wondering what happened, and Berkeley handed him a cup.
“Nap’s over,” Berkeley said.
Virgil sipped on his coffee for a moment, then continued questioning Vince.
“So, Brandice wanted to stop, why?”
“He wanted to come after you.”
“He told you that?” Virgil said.
“Oh, yeah, he did,” Vince said. “He damn sure did. He said he had bloody plans for you. Not Hitch.”
Vince looked over to me and back to Virgil.
“Just you. He said he was going to cut you into pieces. He went into detail how he would go about it, too. He’s an animal, and judging from what I saw, he was not just whistling a waltz.”
Virgil looked at me and smiled a bit and looked back to Vince.
Vince continued, “He told me to brake the cars from rolling backward or else. I said, or else what? And he came at me like a bit dog. He cocked his rifle, but big Woodfin was fast. He grabbed the rifle and hit him so hard he went down in a clump.”
I was looking at Virgil. He looked to me, then back to Vince.
Vince was looking at the floor.
“And Woodfin?”
Vince stayed looking at the floor for a moment before lifting his eyes back to Virgil.
“I told Woodfin to keep an eye on him. I had Rex, big Butch, and Eddie here” — Vince pointed to the smaller fellow in the cell next to him — “working the brakes in the other cars. We was rolling for a good long while, and after some time I came back to the Pullman. Woodfin had Bob at gunpoint, by the uphill door. When I came back in through the door, Woodfin looked to me, and when he did, Bob, real fast-like, spun around on Woodfin and in a second had a knife to Woodfin’s throat. I went for my Colt, but Bob said he’d cut Woodfin if I touched the Colt. Woodfin still had Bob’s Henry rifle in his hands. Bob told Woodfin to let go of the rifle. But instead of letting go of the rifle, Woodfin just slung the rifle out the door, and when he did Bob cut Woodfin’s throat,” Vince paused looking at Virgil. “He just cut Woodfin’s throat. I never seen anything like that, just cut his goddamn throat and flipped him off the rail. I went for my Colt, and when I did Bob slung the conductor’s lantern at me. I shot, but I don’t think I hit him. Next thing I knew, he was off and the Pullman was on fire. He’s a mean son of a bitch.”
“Then what?”
“I told the governor to get his wife and get into the back car. That is exactly what happened, and within a short time the cars started to go real slow. I disconnected the Pullman, and after a few moments we were stopped, just stopped.”
“Then what?”
“I told the governor, all the people, to stay put in the cars. Give us time to get going, and then they could do what they needed to do.”
Virgil looked at Vince, who was now looking at Virgil, nodding.
“I’m telling the truth.”
Virgil stood up to close the heavy doors between the cell and the office.
“Ask the governor, he’ll tell you.”
I figured Vince was telling the truth, and so did Virgil, but for whatever reason Vince felt his routine was deserving of some sympathy or acknowledgment, but Virgil was not about to oblige Vince in any way. Virgil just closed the doors.
“That’s the truth!” Vince said as the doors closed with a thud.
57
Virgil set the stock of the Henry rifle on the floor and leaned the barrel on the edge of the desk.
“That sounds right,” Berkeley said. “What he was saying is pretty much what the governor said. At least in respect to how the fire started, anyway.”
“Might well be,” Virgil said. “Hard to say what is what with boys like Vince. With a lifetime of lying, they don’t know when they’re even doing it.”
Virgil walked to the stove and poured some more coffee into his cup.
“There is a cigar there for you, Marshal,” Berkeley said.
“Box on the desk.”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
Virgil set his coffee down and got a cigar from the box. He got a match from a narrow porcelain cup and dragged the tip across the underside of the desk. He got the fire going good, picked up his coffee and walked to the open door, and looked out into the street. He leaned on the doorjamb and took a sip of coffee.