I kept my eye on Virgil, and when he moved, I moved, and in a second we were in the room.
We saw no one in the room.
I looked quick under the bed and there was nothing. The curtains were blowing and outside the rain was pouring, but the room was empty. There was broken glass, dirt, and pansies on the floor from where the window had been broken open and the flower box’s soil had been dragged into the room. And there was blood, blood across the window seal, the floor, and on the inside doorknob.
I whispered, “Looks like he got cut by the window glass.”
Berkeley nodded.
Virgil pointed at the blood on the floor leading out the door and into the hall. He pointed up.
“Rattlesnake got to the nest,” Virgil said, quietly shaking his head.
I moved first out the door. Berkeley and Virgil followed. When I got to the steps leading to the third floor, we heard laughter coming from behind us. We stopped.
We turned, looking down the long hall. It was empty, but we heard the laughter again.
No doubt it was Bloody Bob’s raspy laughter, but it was hard to tell exactly where he was, where his voice was coming from. Then, we saw him. He stepped out of Hobbs’ old room with the busted door at the far end of the hall. He was holding Abigail in front of him. He had his big knife to her throat. Abigail was wearing a white nightgown, and we could see it was bloody. I could not tell whether the blood was Abigail’s or Bob’s, but there was blood. Bob held Abigail off the floor, and her face was directly in front of his. Virgil stood square in the hall facing Bob, Berkeley was behind Virgil, and I stood behind Berkeley. Bob was at least sixty feet away.
“Been looking for you, Virgil,” Bob said.
“So I heard,” Virgil said.
Lightning flashed, and the window behind Bob let in a purplish-blue color.
“Ya’ll were quiet as this twat’s tears sneaking up here, I’ll give ya that,” Bob said. “Didn’t hear ya, but I smelt ya.”
“Let her go, Bob,” Virgil said. “Let her go so you and me can have our jig.”
Bob shook his head.
“Nope,” Bob said. “I got some bloodlettin’ to do first...”
“You do,” Virgil said.
There was a loud boom, and a plume of smoke kicked away in front of Virgil’s Colt. Abigail dropped to the floor.
I’d been in enough gunfights to know where the flight of a bullet ends up, and that shot from Virgil’s Colt hit a small piece of Bob’s head that was leaning out, looking past Abigail. There was another boom, and more smoke kicked out in front of Virgil’s Colt. Bob stumbled back, and Virgil shot him again. Bob crashed through the window behind him, and in a second was gone from our sight. Abigail did not look back. She got up and ran toward Virgil. Virgil laid down his Colts, and in an instant, Abigail was in his arms.
Virgil looked back to me and said, “The others!”
Berkeley followed me, running quickly upstairs to the governor’s stateroom. The door was locked. I pounded on it.
“It’s Everett Hitch!”
I didn’t hear anything.
“Deputy Marshal Hitch!” I said, beating on the door.
I thumbed through keys. Quickly losing patience, I stepped back a ways, and just before I kicked the door, it opened.
It was the governor, and huddled in a corner behind him were his wife and Emma.
111
The Texas rangers arrived in Half Moon Junction to collect the prisoners and to escort the governor and his family back to Texas. There was a bunch of them. They stepped off the Northbound Express and walked in a pack up Half Moon Street, heading for Hotel Ark. Little Charlie — acting as their pathfinder — led the way. Virgil and I were sitting on the corner of Half and Full Moon Street, eating breakfast at KK & Sandra’s Café when they turned the corner and walked past us. There were ten of them, and they were all dressed the same.
“A sight,” I said.
“Is,” Virgil said.
“There’s a bunch of ’em.”
“Ten big men, wearing ten-gallon hats.”
“Following a ten-year-old boy.”
“Looks like they are outta the same litter,” Virgil said.
“Does.”
We watched them walk a ways, and Virgil went back to work on his breakfast of posole and cornbread.
I pulled out my watch and had a look at the time.
“The Southbound Express back to Texas will be coming through here in about an hour and a half.”
“You gonna talk to that woman?” Virgil said.
Virgil was focused on his breakfast. He scooped up a big spoonful of posole.
“’Bout what?”
“’Bout what she wants to talk about,” Virgil said.
He scooped in another spoonful.
“What do you think she wants to talk about?”
“You.”
“Me?”
Virgil nodded.
“What do you think she wants to talk about me?”
“Most likely ’bout your problems.”
“’Bout my problems?”
Virgil nodded as he chewed his food.
“That’s what they like to talk about,” Virgil said.
“They?” I said.
“Women,” Virgil said. “That’s what they want to talk about, mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“That’s what Allie talks about, mostly,” Virgil said. “My problems.”
Virgil cleaned his plate with a piece of cornbread.
“Way women are,” Virgil said.
Virgil ate some more.
“Keeps them from having to talk about their own problems,” Virgil said, “and if you ask me, talking about your problems is a hell of a lot easier than talking about their problems, so you just make peace with it. Just listen real good. Let her go on. Don’t say nothing.”
“You finished?”
“I am,” Virgil said.
112
We paid up at KK & Sandra’s and walked down to the livery stable to get our horses. When we got them saddled up, we walked them over to the general store. At the store we got ourselves outfitted for our journey back to Appaloosa. We bought ourselves enough supplies for a week. We got coffee, beans, bacon packed in bran, pemmican, Chollet & Co. desiccated vegetables, jerky, boiled butter, dried fruit, sunflower seeds, and some whiskey.
After we got ourselves rigged out good, we walked our animals over to Hotel Ark, where some of the Rangers were sitting out front on the steps, smoking cigars.
We tied up our animals and started up the steps. A young Ranger held out his hand for us to stop.
“Hotel is off-limits for the moment,” the Ranger said.
Hobbs spoke up as he was coming out the door of the hotel with Berkeley.
“Don’t even think about halting those men!” Hobbs said.
“Sorry, Mr. Hobbs,” the Ranger said, “governor’s orders.”
“Goddamn it, son!” Hobbs said. “The governor, his family, and me included would not even be alive if it weren’t for these men!”
The Ranger looked back and forth between Virgil and me. His eyes rested on Virgil.
“You Virgil Cole?” the Ranger said.
“I am,” Virgil said.
The Ranger just looked at Virgil for an extended moment, kind of an odd moment. He took off his hat and held it in front of him over his belly.
“You are the reason I became a lawman,” the Ranger said.
“That so.”
The young Ranger nodded slowly, kind of nervous-like. He was having a hard time saying what he wanted to say but did manage to get his words out.
“My... my father was the foreman on the Sweetwater Ranch in the panhandle who was killed by Bob Brandice, along with my mother. That was eleven years ago. I was twelve years old at the time. You hunted Bob down, near killed him, put him behind bars, and now you done away with him for good.”