“Nope, one at a time,” Virgil said.
“Must be an interesting time with the kid,” I said.
“Who don’t talk,” Virgil said.
“I don’t like Brother Percival,” I said.
“Me neither,” Virgil said.
“I think he’s got something going on we don’t know about,” I said.
“Me too.”
“How come Choctaw’s with him and with Pike?” I said.
“ ’Cause Percival’s got something going on with Pike.”
“Pike ought to love him,” I said. “Percival’s closing down all Pike’s competition.”
“Maybe that’s what they got going on,” Virgil said.
“Nice for Pike,” I said. “What’s Percival get?”
“Maybe money,” Virgil said. “Maybe the joy of doing God’s work. Maybe both.”
“Thing wrong with folks like the holy Brother Percival,” I said, “is that they think they got a right to do anything. Because they doing God’s work.”
Virgil let his chair tip forward a little and then bumped it back against the wall. He was so balanced, so exact in all his movements, that I figured he could probably balance in that chair if there wasn’t any wall.
“Kinda like to know what he’s telling those ladies in them pastoral sessions,” Virgil said.
“Probably telling ’em they’re going to hell,” Virgil said.
“For getting raped?” I said.
“Maybe Percival don’t see it that way,” Virgil said.
“No, maybe he don’t,” I said.
“Bet God would let that go,” Virgil said.
“Yeah, but you don’t know,” I said. “Percival knows.”
“Sure,” Virgil said. “Sure he does.”
37
I WAS UPSTAIRS IN PIKE’S PALACE, lying on a bed with a whore named Frisco. I never knew the rest of her name. But she was a nice girl, except for being a whore. She was clean, and sort of smart, and sort of pretty, and fun to talk to. When I could I’d been keeping company with her since I got to Brimstone.
“Chasing that Indian around didn’t wear you down none,” Frisco said.
“I’m a lively fella,” I said.
“Yes, you are,” she said. “I hear those women ain’t doing so well.”
“They had a rough time,” I said.
Frisco grinned.
“Fucking a bunch of men?” she said. “Hell, I do that pretty much every day.”
“One of them is fifteen,” I said.
“How old you think I was when I started?” Frisco said.
“Soon as you could,” I said.
“I wasn’t so willing the first few times, either,” she said.
“Hard to imagine,” I said.
“Well, it’s true, and I got over it. Didn’t turn into a drunk. Didn’t stop talking.”
“How you know so much about these women?” I said.
“Whores know a lot,” she said.
“You surely do,” I said.
“I mean we know a lot about what’s going on, lotta men visit with us. Lot of ’em get kind of drunk and kind of excited and they talk about things.”
“Why do they get excited?”
“You know damn well why,” Frisco said. “Some of the holy church deacons stop by.”
“No,” I said.
“They ain’t as holy as you might think,” Frisco said.
“Ain’t it a shame,” I said.
“Anyway, they tell me that Virgil Cole’s woman friend is taking a special interest in them.”
“Allie,” I said.
“Yep, and that even His Holiness the Reverend Brother Bullshit is talking to them.”
“So I hear,” I said.
“You like her?” Frisco said.
“Allie?”
“Yes.”
“Allie ain’t someone you just like or don’t like,” I said. “You kinda do both.”
“Virgil feel that way?”
“He probably likes her more than he don’t like her,” I said.
“I hear she’s had a little something with Brother Bullshit,” Frisco said.
“Percival?” I said.
“While you and Virgil was off after that Indian.”
“How do you know?”
Frisco smiled.
“I told you, whores know stuff.”
“You know if it’s true?” I said.
“No,” Frisco said. “Not really. Just heard it said.”
“Let us agree on something right now,” I said.
“I won’t say nothing to Virgil,” she said.
“Or anybody else,” I said.
“Promise.”
“I like you, Frisco,” I said. “I think you got a good heart. But you spread this story and I will hurt you.”
“I promised, Everett. What else you want?”
“I want you to know I’m serious,” I said.
“I know that, Everett. I know you’re serious.”
We lay on the bed for a bit, staring up at the ceiling of the narrow room. The window was open and the curtains stirred. Frisco sat half up and looked at me.
“Probably ain’t so, anyway,” she said.
“Probably not,” I said.
“Probably just a rumor,” Frisco said.
“Long as Virgil don’t hear it,” I said.
She was silent for another minute, looking at me.
“It always amazes me,” she said. “You got all them scars and you ain’t dead.”
“Sort of amazes me, too,” I said.
“Oh, look,” she said. “I see a sure sign of life right now.”
“Let’s not waste it,” I said.
38
WE WERE SITTING IN OUR CHAIRS in front of the sheriff’s office. The day was bright and not hot. The wind moved a little dust around on Arrow Street. We were drinking coffee.
