I picked up the document and looked at it for a while. There was a lot of lawyer language, but there was the phrase
“You must have come into money,” I said.
“Where’s Cole?” Bragg said.
“Out walkin’ the town,” I said. “He’ll be back in a while.”
“I’ll wait.”
“Not in here,” I said.
“Why not?”
“I don’t like you.”
“I don’t want Cole to see me and start shooting,” Bragg said, “ ’fore he reads my pardon.”
“Ain’t Virgil’s style,” I said, and went to the door and held it open.
Bragg hesitated. Then he shook his head and walked outside and sat on one of the chairs in front of the office, under the overhang. I left the door open and went back to my desk, and watched the rain puddle in the street outside.
It was maybe an hour and a half later when Cole came back. I knew he’d have seen Bragg from a long way up the street. And I knew he wouldn’t have shown any response. I saw him pass in front of the window. His slicker was unbuttoned so he could get at his gun if he needed to. His collar was turned up against the rain, and his hat was tilted down over his eyes. I stood and went to the door. Cole had stopped in front of Bragg and was looking at him without expression. Bragg had his coat open. “I’m not heeled,” he said.
Cole nodded. Bragg held up the paper he’d already shown me. I knew it wouldn’t mean anything to Cole. He’d have to read it slowly when he had time to make out all the words.
“I been pardoned,” Bragg said. “I already shown it to Hitch.”
I stepped out and sat down in the chair beside Bragg. Cole glanced at me. I nodded. He looked back at Bragg.
“You was the only one to run off,” Cole said, “up in Beauville.”
“The ones that stayed are dead,” Bragg said.
Cole didn’t speak.
“I’m a law-abiding citizen,” Bragg said. “You got no call to bother me further.”
Cole was silent for a time, looking at Bragg with no expression.
Finally he said, “Not ’less you give me cause.”
Bragg smiled widely.
“That’s very fine,” he said. “I’m coming back to Appaloosa. I needed to clear things up with you first.”
Cole didn’t answer.
Bragg took a tan leather cigar case out of his inside coat pocket. He offered a cigar to Cole and to me. We declined. He took one out for himself and got it lit and puffed on it till it was going good.
“I come into some money,” Bragg said, “and I got plans for coming into more.”
Bragg put out his hand.
“Bygones be bygones?” he said.
Cole ignored him and walked past him into the office. Bragg watched him for a moment. Then he looked at me.
“I’m the right side to be on,” Bragg said. “I’m going to do some things in Appaloosa.”
I shook my head.
Now that he’d been reassured that Cole wouldn’t shoot him dead, Bragg seemed pretty full of himself. He wasn’t a dangerous rancher with a fast gun who hired fast gun hands. Now he was a man of means and position. He looked and talked like a politician. He offered cigars and talked of big plans. He wore a suit with a vest. I didn’t like this Bragg any better than the other one.
“I won’t shake your hand, either,” I said.
Bragg stood and buttoned up his raincoat.
“Things are likely to change in Appaloosa,” Bragg said. “You could benefit from the changes, or you could get left behind.”
He turned up his collar and adjusted his hat and stepped off the front porch into the rain. I watched him as he walked on down the street, trailing the smell of a pretty good cigar behind him.
It wasn’t until the middle of May that I rode up in the early morning to take a look-see at Bragg’s ranch. I could smell the smoke and bacon smell from the cookshack long before I topped the rise and looked down at the place. There were horses in the corral and, as best I could make out, more in the barn. The weeds were gone from the front porch. The place looked somehow clean and busy, although I only saw two hands loafing by the corral, where they had slung their saddles on the top rail. Between the ones in the barn and those in the corral, there were horses for a considerable number of hands. I saw no sign of cattle. The two boys leaning on the fence weren’t dressed for cattle work. I sat my horse for a time, looking down. Some other hands came and went: to and from the privy, in and out of the bunkhouse, back and forth to the cookshack. None of them seemed dressed for herding cows. I got bored looking at them, so I turned my horse and rode back to town.
Cole was drinking coffee in the Boston House Saloon and studying an illustrated book about King Arthur. I stopped for a minute and watched him. He read slowly, like he always did, sometimes forming words silently with his lips, sometimes running his forefinger along under an especially hard sentence.
Without looking up he said, “Come on and set, Everett.”
I did. Tilda came and gave me coffee.
“Bragg’s back into his ranch,” I said.
Cole put the book aside.
“I know.”
“Got quite a number of hands,” I said.
“And no cows,” Cole said.
“You been up there, too,” I said.
“ ’Course I have.”
“What do you think is happening?”
“I know he bought both of Earl May’s saloons.”
“Really?” I said. “What’s Earl going to do.”
“Says he’s going to retire, go live with his daughter in Denver.”
“Maybe we should do that,” I said.
“You got a daughter someplace?” Cole said.
“No.”
“Me, either.”
“Might as well stay here then,” I said. “Where you suppose Bragg’s getting this money?”
“Heard different things,” Cole said. “Fella told me Bragg had a big silver strike in Nevada. ’Nother fella told me that Bragg and some other boys robbed a train in Mexico that was carrying gold.”
“I heard he was down along the Rio Grande with some fellas, stealing cows and horses from Mexico,” I said. “Bringing them back here and selling them to the Army.”
“Hard to get rich doing that,” Cole said.
“But easy to get killed.”
Cole nodded.
“Doesn’t sound like Bragg,” he said.
“Hard work, too,” I said.
Cole grinned.
“Doesn’t sound like Bragg,” he said.
