“And she knows that Chauncey is here sooner or later to kill me,” Virgil said.
I nodded.
“And she knows that he might succeed.”
“Always possible,” I said.
“And so you know she’s thinking ahead,” Virgil said.
I was quiet for a moment, looking across the street. Then I took in some air and blew it out slowly.
“And lining up replacements,” I said.
“In case,” Virgil said.
“Something happened to you, I’d look out for her,” I said.
“She knows that,” he said. “She also knows I go down, you’ll probably go, too.”
“Probably,” I said.
“And even if you don’t go down, she knows you won’t…”
Virgil wobbled his hand a little.
“No,” I said. “That’s right. I’d look out for her, but I wouldn’t, ah, be with her.”
“You don’t love her,” Virgil said.
“No.”
Virgil gazed across the street silently.
“I do,” he said.
“I know.”
“Don’t make any sense, does it?” Virgil said.
I exhaled again.
“No,” I said. “But maybe it ain’t supposed to.”
“I want her to feel safe,” Virgil said.
“I’ll see that she does,” I said.
“No,” Virgil said. “You can’t. ’Cause you won’t fuck her and she can’t feel safe with no one ’less she’s fucking him.”
“I know,” I said.
“So, let her find somebody to fuck, if I go,” Virgil said. “And don’t kill him for fucking her.”
I nodded again.
“Work out better all around,” I said, “you don’t die.”
“Would,” Virgil said. “Wouldn’t it.”
53
AS THE TOWN BLOOMED, the Reclamation Commission bloomed along with it and, in time, was effectively running Appaloosa. Most of the running was done by Laird and Callico, who had come to seem to be almost a single entity. They built a big hall with offices for town government and a big meeting hall on the second floor. They called it Reclamation Hall. Callico moved his offices there from the jail. He and Laird set up offices for the Reclamation Commission there. At the end of a grand mahogany corridor on the first floor, they built a lavish office for the mayor. There was the Reclamation Commission. There was Callico and Laird. The rest of the offices were empty. There was no town government. There was no mayor.
“Bad mistake,” Virgil said, walking through the still-virgin offices.
“Building the office first?” I said.
“Longer it sits here,” Virgil said, “more pressure to have an election and elect a mayor.”
“Which will be either Callico or the general,” I said.
“Running against each other,” Virgil said.
I nodded slowly without saying anything.
“Ain’t ready for that yet,” Virgil said.
“Laird might be,” I said.
“Maybe he is,” Virgil said. “Maybe he ain’t. Callico ain’t.”
“Wants it too bad,” I said.
We walked out of the gleaming new office and down the broad corridor.
“Wants everything too bad,” Virgil said.
“Wants to be more than he is,” I said.
“Not the key to happiness, I’m thinking,” Virgil said.
“You’d settle for being what you are,” I said to Virgil.
“I have,” Virgil said.
“Would you settle for being Callico?” I said.
We opened the heavy front door and went out of the soap-smelling hall and down the stairs. The smell of the town was thick with sawdust and raw wood, horse droppings, and the smell of scorched wood from the steam saw. All drifted across Appaloosa on the easy breeze from the prairie, to which a vestige of sage smell still clung.
“No,” Virgil said.
54
THE RESTORATION of Appaloosa was complete by the time the fall rains arrived. But the town kept right on building.
On September 1, Amos Callico and General Horatio Laird both announced that they were running for mayor. On September 15, The Appaloosa Argus endorsed General Laird.
“Do you think he’d be the best?” Allie said.
“Don’t know, don’t care,” Virgil said. “Hate politics.”
“Well, they’re what’s running,” Allie said. “Who you gonna vote for, Everett?”
“Probably Callico,” I said.
“Even though the newspaper says it should be General Laird?”
“They probably think he looks like a mayor,” I said.
“He was a general, you know,” Allie said.
“Part of the problem,” I said. “He’s used to working inside a set of rules. And he’s used to people doing what he tells them to do.”
“I should think that would be good for a mayor,” Allie said.
Virgil was standing in the kitchen doorway, looking out at the dark rain soaking into his yard. The sound of it was pleasant. The smell of the new rain was fresh. The mud was probably six inches deep already.
“Not for mayor of a town like Appaloosa,” I said. “Never had a mayor before. Never actual like had a government before. Man’s gonna get things done in a town like this, hell, most towns, is a liar and a thief. Like Callico. He won’t keep his word. He won’t honor yours. He doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t expect you to care about him.”
“That’s a good mayor?”
“He’ll get things done,” I said.
“Maybe that’s not all he should do,” Allie said.
At the open door, Virgil turned and looked for a long moment at Allie.
“By God, Allie,” he said. “Maybe it ain’t.”
55
