Street and south out of town.
“You remember,” Virgil said as we watched them ride out, “how we got to be the law in Appaloosa?”
“Them three fellas, owned businesses in town, they hired us,” I said.
“Town council.”
“So they said.”
“Anybody elect them?” Virgil asked.
“Not that I know of,” I said.
The squad of deputies disappeared over the crest of the first hill south of town and reappeared at the crest of the next one.
“We had a set of laws,” Virgil said, “written out clear.”
“And we wrote them,” I said.
Virgil nodded.
“So this collection of vermin,” he said, “is as much the law here as we was in Appaloosa.”
“I guess so,” I said.
The squad went over the next hill, where the road curved, following the creek.
“We done the right thing,” Virgil said, “best we could, in Appaloosa.”
“Yep.”
The deputies were out of sight now.
“These people won’t do the right thing,” Virgil said.
“Not likely,” I said.
“Already done the wrong thing, shooting that sodbuster,” Virgil said.
“I’d say so.”
“And they’re the law.”
“’Fraid so,” I said.
Virgil nodded his head slowly, gazing downhill at the ugly little town.
“Not much of a place,” he said.
“No,” I said.
“Getting worse,” Virgil said. “Mine’s dried up. Lumber company’s out of business, at least for now. Homesteaders been run off the land.”
“Yep.”
“There’s no money to be spent,” Virgil said. “Nobody to borrow from the bank. Nobody to buy feed at the emporium. No beef to broker. Whiskey sales are almost nothing in the saloons.”
“Hard to make a profit,” I said, “by eliminatin’ your customers. ”
“Whole fucking town is going under,” Virgil said.
“Seems so,” I said.
“And Wolfson wants it,” Virgil said.
“Yep.”
“Why?” Virgil said.
“He probably don’t know, either,” I said.
“Don’t seem worth killing folks over.”
“Hell, Virgil,” I said. “You know better’n I do that people kill folks for nothing at all.”
Virgil nodded again.
“They do,” he said.
Then he clucked to the mare and we rode on back down the hill.
60.
We were sitting with Cato and Rose at a table in the Excelsior, where they no longer worked. They didn’t act like they didn’t work there. When Virgil and I came in, Rose went behind the bar and got four glasses and a bottle and brought them out.
“Nice thing,” Rose said, “’bout being out of work, gives you time to sit around and drink whiskey.”
We all sipped the first sip. I could feel it seep happily through me.
“Whaddya do when you’re working, Frank?” Virgil said.
Rose looked at him. He was puzzled.
“Same as you,” he said.
“And what’s that?” Virgil said.
Rose looked at him some more.
“Shootin’,” he said, and grinned, “or threatenin’ to.”
“That bother you?”
Rose looked surprised.
“Shootin’ people?” he said. “No.”
“You, Cato?”
Cato shook his head.
“Everett?”
“Depends on who I’m shootin’,” I said.
“And why,” Cato said.
All three of us looked at him. It was always surprising when Cato spoke.
“Right,” Rose said. “I mean, I ain’t gonna back-shoot nobody, or shoot no women or kids.”
“How ’bout that sodbuster got killed the other day?” Virgil said.
“No,” Rose said. “That was wrong. Me and Cato both think that was wrong.”
Cato nodded.
“You was working for Wolfson still, would you do it?” Virgil said.
Rose thought about it for a minute. He looked at Cato. Then he said, “No, neither one of us.”
Cato nodded briefly.
“Everett?” Virgil said.
I shook my head.
“Probably not.”
Virgil nodded.
We all drank a little more.
“What’s bothering you, Virgil?” Rose said. “You know what we are, what we do. What the hell are all these questions?”
Virgil shook his head and sipped another taste of whiskey.
“So you shoot who you want and not who you don’t want,” Virgil said.
“Yeah,” Rose said.
Cato nodded.
“Because you can,” he said.
“Pretty much,” Rose said.
He looked at me.
“You, Everett?”
“Yeah,” I said.
Virgil stared into his whiskey for a moment, then drank some.
“You think Swann feels that way?” he said.
“Naw,” Rose said.
“So how’s he decide?” Virgil said.
“He don’t,” Rose said. “He’ll shoot anybody he can get away with.”
“He likes it,” Cato said.
“And we don’t?” Virgil said.
