“Him or the Heavenly Father,” I said.
“Neither,” Virgil said.
60
IT WAS LIKE A SUMMER STORM approaching. The atmosphere tightened; I could feel the tension crackling. There was no thunder yet, or lightning, but I could feel it lurking. I knew it was coming. So did everyone else. There were more men with guns standing around. There were fewer people on the streets. The people who were on the streets walked faster. The dogs seemed to slink a little. The horses seemed edgy. Everyone seemed somehow wound a little tighter. Except Virgil. As always, he remained entirely Virgil Cole, regardless of what was going on around him.
“Gonna be one hell a deluge,” I said, as we walked in the evening back to Allie’s house.
“Deluge?” Virgil said. “Like rain?”
“Just thinking out loud,” I said.
Virgil shook his head.
“You’re kinda strange sometimes, Everett,” Virgil said.
“Yeah,” I said. “I know.”
Pony was sitting in a rocker on Allie’s front porch with a Winchester in his lap. Laurel sat on a straight chair next to him.
“Where’s Allie?” Virgil said.
“Cook supper,” Pony said.
“Uh-oh,” Virgil said.
Pony shrugged.
“We’ll be here for a while,” I said to Pony, “you want to go up to Pike’s or whatever.”
“Good,” Pony said. “Maybe eat.”
I grinned.
“Better hurry,” I said. “I think she’s coming.”
Pony stood and leaned the Winchester against the doorjamb.
“Watch the rifle for me,” he said.
Virgil nodded.
“Don’t go too far,” Virgil said.
Pony nodded and walked off toward Arrow Street. Virgil sat next to Laurel.
“You know something?” I said to Virgil.
“Just a feeling,” Virgil said. “Air’s kinda tight.”
I didn’t say anything. Allie came out in an apron. It wasn’t much of an apron, as far as keeping gravy off your dress. But it was cute-looking, and she looked cute in it.
“Supper’s ready,” she said.
She was making progress. The food wasn’t good. But nothing was burned, and we ate as much of it as we could so as not to hurt her feelings. We were back on the porch letting it digest when Pony came silently out of the darkness. Virgil had heard him, I could tell, because he had shifted forward slightly in his chair to clear his gun hand.
“Percival,” he said. “At Pike’s. All lined up. Singing church music.”
“Sounds like it’s gonna start,” I said.
Virgil nodded. He looked at Pony and jerked his head at the women. Pony nodded and picked up his Winchester and sat down beside Laurel. Virgil stood and went into the house. In a moment he came out with another Colt. One with a shorter barrel. A banker’s gun. He gave it to Allie.
“Showed you how to shoot,” Virgil said. “You need to, shoot.”
Allie didn’t say anything. But she nodded and took the gun. Virgil picked up his Winchester. I picked up the eight-gauge.
Virgil looked at the women.
“Be back soon,” he said.
They both nodded. And we started up toward Arrow Street.
61
THERE WAS LOW CLOUD COVER preventing the moon and stars from being visible. On Arrow Street there were some coal-oil lamps. But the clouds made the side streets very black. I could barely see Virgil beside me. We could hear singing ahead, and when we reached Arrow Street, we could see the singers, Percival and his people, lined up opposite Pike’s Palace, holding torches, singing “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”
“Jesus,” Virgil said.
At the center of the line and a little forward was Brother Percival, with Choctaw Brown beside him. Brother Percival was singing at full throat. Choctaw was silent.
On the front porch of Pike’s Palace stood maybe a dozen men, all armed. Pike was there, and Abner Noonan, the new shotgun lookout, was beside Pike. I recognized most of the rest from seeing them in the Palace. There were people I didn’t see. I knew Pike had at least twenty.
“Where’s the rest of Pike’s people,” I said.
Virgil nodded at the photographer’s shop across the way. There was an alley on each side of the shop, leading to Market Street. In both alley mouths I could see men.
“If the ball goes up,” I said, “Pike’ll cut them to pieces.”
“Yep.”
“We gonna do anything ’bout that?” I said.
“Nope.”
“Why not.”
“What we gain ain’t commensurate with what we might lose,” Virgil said.
He’d waited all this time to use his new word.
“So we lie back here in the weeds and watch,” I said.
“We do,” Virgil said.
“And if they start shooting, when it’s over, we’ll have that many fewer people to deal with.”
“Exactly right,” Virgil said.
Percival’s people plodded on through the “Battle Hymn,” with the torches dancing in the night air, and Pike and his men motionless and silent on the porch before them.
When they finished, everything was quiet. I could hear the torches burning. Then Percival stepped forward and up onto the porch. He stood directly in front of Pike.
“I am here to do my Father’s will,” he said. “I am here to close this pestilence and drive you from this town.”
“I’m not going to fuck with this, Percival,” Pike said. “You people bother me and a lot of you will get hurt.”
“You think we fear you?” Percival said.
“I think you should,” Pike said.
