“You the law here?” the man said.
“Nope,” Virgil said. “Just a citizen.”
“Dell Garrison,” the man said. “I’m with the Pinkerton Detective Agency. We’re chasing an Indian. Run off from the Apache reservation. Held up a train. Killed a couple railroad employees.”
“What makes you think he’s here?” Virgil said.
“Folks in Van Buren spotted them, couple weeks back, heading south. This is the next town.”
Virgil nodded.
Garrison looked at Pony.
“He’s traveling with a breed,” Garrison said.
“Know the breed’s name?” Virgil said.
“Nope.”
“How ’bout the Indian?” Virgil said.
“Got it wrote down somewhere in my saddlebags,” Garrison said. “Indian name.”
Garrison looked at Pony some more.
“You a breed?” he said to Pony.
Pony said something in Spanish.
“He a friend of yours?” Garrison said.
“He is,” Virgil said.
“What’d he say?”
“Don’t know,” Virgil said. “Don’t speak Spanish. Everett, you know what he said?”
“No,” I said.
“You’re Everett Hitch,” Garrison said.
“Yep.”
“Breed speak any English?”
“Never heard him,” I said.
“This fella’s a friend and you don’t speak Spanish and he don’t speak English.”
“We’re pretty quiet,” I said.
“He a breed?” Garrison said.
“Don’t know,” Virgil said.
Garrison nodded and looked at me.
“That an eight-gauge?” he said.
“It is,” I said.
“Don’t see them much,” Garrison said. “Wells Fargo issues them, I think.”
“That’s where I got it,” I said.
Garrison looked at Pony some more. Pony said nothing, showed nothing.
“You see my Indian,” Garrison said, “or the breed he’s running with, the railroad’s got a nice reward out.”
“Bounty hunters?” I said. “Sure… big reward.”
“They following you?” Virgil said.
Garrison smiled.
“You know the trade,” he said. “Yeah, they let us do the finding and then try to slip in ahead of us and get there first.”
“You mind?” I said.
“We get paid either way, and we ain’t eligible for the reward, anyway.”
“Dead or alive?” Virgil said.
“Yep.”
“Dead is easier,” Virgil said.
“Yep,” Garrison said. “And, hell, he’s an Indian.”
Nobody said anything.
“Well,” Garrison said. “Keep an eye out.”
“Surely will,” Virgil said.
Garrison backed his horse out a couple of steps away from us and turned him and headed on down toward Callico’s office. The three other riders followed.
When they were gone, Virgil turned to Pony.
“Place up north a ways, Resolution. Me and Everett worked there a while back. Last I knew, the law up there was a couple boys we worked with.”
“Cato Tillson,” I said. “And Frank Rose.”
“You tell ’em we sent you,” Virgil said. “Be a nice place to hunker down for a while.”
“What about police chief?” Pony said. “Sunday.”
“Callico?” Virgil said. “On Sunday, Callico’s gonna let it slide.”
“You know?”
“Know enough,” Virgil said. “Don’t worry about Callico.”
Pony nodded slowly.
“We will go there,” Pony said.
Pony smiled and shrugged.
“I was Garrison,” Virgil said, “I’d turn that corner and send a man back along Front Street to see what you done. If you lit out, I’d have him follow you.”
“Ain’t going to light out,” Pony said. “Go home with you.”
Virgil nodded.
Pony smiled.
“Then light out,” he said.
“I was you,” Virgil said, “and I was gonna light out anyway, I’d collect Kha-to-nay and light out ’fore Allie cooked you supper.”
“Si,” Pony said.
“And tell your brother,” I said, “not to irritate Cato.”
“Si,” Pony said.
Then the three of us got up and walked down Main Street toward Virgil’s house.
18
ON SUNDAY MORNING Virgil was sitting where he sat, in front of the Boston House. He was heeled and his Winchester leaned against the wall beside his chair. I was across the street with the eight-gauge, standing on the boardwalk in the shade in front of the feed store. Above us the sky was a pale, even, uninterrupted blue that appeared to stretch clear west at least to California.
People were on the street, dressed up, the women especially, going to church. I saw Allie go by in her best dress, with Laurel. They were walking with a tall, handsome woman in clothes that looked like she’d shopped in New York. Allie waved at Virgil as she passed. Virgil touched the brim of his hat.
We waited. That was okay. We were good at it. Virgil and I could wait as long as we needed to. Around midday, Callico came down the street with his Winchester escorts. They stopped in front of Virgil. Callico looked around, saw me across the street, and murmured something to his escort. Three of the policemen turned and faced me. I nodded at them. Nobody nodded back.
“I’ve decided not to kill you, Virgil,” Callico said.
He had a big voice, and it carried easily from the Boston House to the feed store.
Virgil looked at the armed policemen.
“You ever go anyplace alone, Amos?” Virgil said.
“I’m not a violent man,” Callico said. “And I figure it’s easier to get along with you than kill both of you.”
“A sight easier,” Virgil said.
“Long as you don’t break the law,” Callico said.
