The Bridge

by Robert Knott

  We let Ashley get ahead of us, then Sebastian moved out following him. I followed Sebastian. I remained a good two hundred yards back as I trailed him.

  Sebastian walked north a few blocks, making a few turns, and I kept him in sight. He walked east another two blocks, then turned north up Fourth Street and stopped.

  —73—

  I waited in the dark under an awning, watching Sebastian. He turned, faced me, and lit a cigarette. The cigarette was the sign we’d set when Ashley stopped at his destination. I stayed put under the awning as planned.

  The idea was to let some time pass and see who and how many were to meet up with him and Cox.

  After about ten minutes Sebastian lit another cigarette.

  Black Jack, I thought.

  The second smoke indicated another participant.

  I waited a little longer, then started walking up the boardwalk toward Sebastian. He moved to meet me under the overhang of a drilling office.

  “He’s just there,” Sebastian said.

  “What we figured,” I said. “That’s Cox’s place.”

  We stood there, staying back in the dark and waited.

  After some minutes passed, Chastain came out of the alley across the street from us and waited under an overhang as well. We just watched and waited some more.

  “Marshal Cole,” Sebastian said.

  Virgil was on the same side of the street as Chastain and was walking in Chastain’s direction.

  Chastain saw Virgil and moved out a little to meet him.

  After a minute or two Virgil and Chastain crossed the street to where Sebastian and I were waiting.

  “Here we go,” I said.

  “How you want to go about this?” Chastain said to Virgil.

  Virgil thought for a moment.

  “Don’t think we’re dealing with any gun hands here,” Chastain said.

  “No,” Virgil said. “But we go at this like they are loaded to the hilt. Last thing we want to do is be on our heels. Best swimmers are the ones that drown.”

  Chastain nodded.

  “Everett and I will go in quick through the front door,” Virgil said. “We’ll first figure out what room they’re in, and we’ll push on through fast, no knocking.”

  “Providing the door is locked,” I said. “And most likely it is. You’ll have to be the one busting the door, Virgil.”

  Virgil knew I was referring to the fact I was weak in my upper body, and nodded.

  “That door is gonna take some force, too,” I said. “It’s a solid sonofabitch.”

  “I’ll get through it,” Virgil said.

  “Most likely they’ll be in the office,” I said.

  Virgil nodded a little, then looked to Chastain and Sebastian.

  “That office is on the front, northwest corner of the house,” Virgil said. “Chastain, Everett and me will give you and Sebastian enough time to get around to the back. Just watch the back door, and if anyone comes out the back, interested in high-tailing, you can sort them out.”

  “Sounds right,” Chastain said.

  “Sebastian has my dingus,” I said.

  Virgil nodded, looking at Sebastian.

  “You good with everything that I’m saying here, Mr. Winthrop?” Virgil said.

  Sebastian nodded.

  “I don’t carry a weapon as a matter of practice,” he said. “But I spent ten years with Scotland Yard, so let’s not be concerned or tarry here on my accord.”

  Virgil looked to Chastain.

  “Chastain, you and Sebastian go on through the alley and come up on the house from the back side,” Virgil said. “Everett and me will give you enough time to get set.”

  Chastain and Sebastian nodded. They did as Virgil instructed and moved off down the alley.

  Virgil and I didn’t walk the street as we approached the house. We moved cautiously, staying in the shadows of the boardwalk, and when we got close, we edged our way to the side window of the office.

  I peeked in and could see through the curtains the three men and I could hear the talking. I looked back to Virgil and nodded.

  Virgil and I readied our Colts and moved slowly, staying in the dark the best we could, and moved up the steps quietly.

  I tried the knob just in case, but the door wasn’t locked. I shook my head, looking at Virgil.

  Virgil took a few steps back and charged the door with his shoulder, and he was right about getting through it. The thick door crashed open, taking splintering pieces of the doorjamb with it, and Virgil and I moved quickly inside.

  —74—

  We rushed past the startled butler, Jessup, who stumbled back onto the staircase as Virgil and I burst into the office where the three men, G. W. Cox, Ashley Epps, and Curtis Whittlesey, sat completely dumbfounded and looking at us with our Colts pointing at them.

  Cox was sitting in his big chair behind his desk and Curtis and Ashley sat across from him.

  On Cox’s desk were three stacks of cash.

  “What?” Ashley said, wide-eyed. “What is happening?”

  “You don’t really need to ask, do you?” Virgil said.

  “I think there must be some kind of misunderstanding,” Ashley said nervously.

  “Misunderstanding?” Virgil said.

  “Yes,” Ashley said. “Of course.”

  “No misunderstanding here,” Virgil said.

  “But—” Ashley said.

  “Ashley,” Cox interrupted, shaking his head a little as he leaned back in his chair with his hands on the arms of the chair. “Let these men do what they came here to do.”

  “You three are under arrest,” Virgil said.

  “Marshal,” Ashley said. “I can explain this . . .”

  “Sheriff Sledge Driskill,” Virgil said, “and his deputies Chip Childers and Karl Worley are dead because of you. Chip and Karl were both just past twenty years of age.”

  “I’m innocent,” Curtis blurted out as he got to his feet.

  “No, Curtis, you’re not,” I said. “You even sicced me onto Cox at the pool hall, thinking maybe he’d get sorted out and you and the preacher here would have a bigger payday.”

  “No . . .” Curtis said. “I . . .”

  “Sit down, Curtis,” I said. “And shut your ass up.”

  Curtis sat slowly back in his chair.

  “You men have fucked up,” Virgil said.

  “God knows,” Ashley said, shaking his head from side to side, “you are mistaken here.”

  “Pretty sure God don’t got a goddamn thing to do with this murder and robbery you put together here,” Virgil said.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Ashley said.

  “No?” Virgil said.

  “What would you like us to do?” Cox said calmly.

  “Don’t buy into this,” Ashley said. “They have nothing here that was not part of God’s plan.”

  “You might not have intended to do what you did,” Virgil said. “But you did it, and three lawmen lost their lives over what the three of you have done here. You fucked up.”

  Curtis started crying.

  “No, no, no,” Curtis said hysterically. “This can’t be, it can’t be, it can’t be . . .”

  We heard two clicks behind us.

  “Don’t turn around,” Jessup said.

  I glanced back to see Jessup holding a side-by-side twelve-gauge shotgun pointed at our backs.

  “Looks like it was you who fucked up,” Cox said, as he pulled a pistol.

  “You don’t want to do this,” Virgil said over his shoulder.

  “Oh, but I do,” Jessup said.

  I saw out of the corner of my eye as Jessup moved the shotgun off us and onto Cox.

  “No!” Cox shouted as he raised his pistol at Jessup, but Jessup let Cox have it with both barrels and Cox’s head exploded, drenching his diplomas and the placards of his achievements with his blood and the last thinking portion of his brain.

  “Dear God,” Ashley cried.

  “Virgil. Eve
rett,” Chastain called from someplace toward the rear of the house.

  Virgil turned to Jessup, who was holding the gun in the same position he’d shot Cox.

  Jessup stood frozen, looking at the blood on the wall. He had a single tear running down his cheek.

  “We’re here,” I called to Chastain. “Office.”

  Sebastian and Chastain hurried from the back hall and into the office.

  Virgil reached for Jessup’s shotgun.

  “It’s over,” Virgil said to Jessup.

  Jessup’s teary eyes slowly looked to Virgil.

  “Over,” Virgil said.

  Virgil pried the shotgun from Jessup’s hands and sat him down in a chair.

  Jessup just stared at the floor.

  “. . . it comin’,” Jessup said very quietly. “. . . He had it comin’.”

  Virgil just looked at Jessup for a long moment. Then he looked to Curtis and Ashley, then looked slowly around the room, resting his eyes on the model of the bridge.

  It was over.

  —75—

  I was sitting in a comfortable chair on the porch of Virgil and Allie’s place with the morning sunshine warming my face. The early snow was all gone now and the temperature was pleasant. The streets were still muddy, but the crops and fields in the area were thankful for the early winter soaking.

  Business was back to normal in Appaloosa. The streets were busy with activity. I thought about what Wallis had said, about how many people were in the town now. Appaloosa had changed damn near before our eyes from a little town to a city, a full-grown city. Hocus-goddamn-pocus.

  Nell came walking up the boardwalk, spinning her parasol on her shoulder. Her chin was high and her posture was erect. She had a degree of purpose and pride to her step. She waited for a buggy to pass, then crossed the street. She was smiling when she approached the porch.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Morning,” I said.

  “A nice one,” she said.

  “It is,” I said. “And I suspect the warmer conditions we got now, and the fact the tent-show outfit is finally going to get rigged up, that you’re feeling somewhat chipper.”

  “How did you know?” she said, as she walked up the steps.

  “Well, hell, I could tell it,” I said. “Saw it right off. Watching you coming a block away.”

  “Why,” she said with a smile and a spin of the parasol, “are you some kind of officer?”

  “I am, as a matter of fact,” I said back with a smile. “Have a seat.”

  “Why, thank you,” she said. “You the only one home?”

  “I am,” I said. “Virgil’s at the office and Allie’s with her ladies’ social. She’s drumming up ticket sales for your show.”

  “She’s something else,” Nell said.

  “Yes, she is,” I said.

  Nell sat in the center of the hanging bench swing just to the left of me. She was wearing a yellow gingham dress under a long, thin dark green topcoat with brown velvet cuffs and lapels.

  “You’re looking better, Everett,” she said.

  “Than what?” I said.

  “Than before,” she said.

  “Before what?” I said.

  “When you were at Doc’s.”

  “You came?”

  She tilted her head and smiled.

  “You’re a devil,” she said.

  “Am I?”

  “Did I come?” Nell said with a slight pull of her chin to her collarbone. “I most certainly did.”

  “Doc Crumley had me on double doses of the devil himself there for a while,” I said. “So there was a lot of chasing butterflies, running through fields of flowers, and kissing beautiful women and that sort of thing.”

  “Imagine that?” she said with a smile. “And that sort of thing.”

  “Only so much time for flowers, butterflies, and beautiful women,” I said.

  “Yes, a shame, really,” Nell said. “We all need more of that sort of beauty in our lives, don’t you think?”

  “As long as it’s not in a bottle,” I said.

  She nodded. Smiled.

  “Well,” she said. “I’m very glad to see you’re looking well.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  She reached out and grabbed my hand and squeezed it a little as she looked directly at me.

  “Scary?” she said.

  “Not at the time,” I said.

  She just looked at me for an extended moment, then looked to the street. She smiled a little.

  “My husband was right,” she said, looking back to me.

  “About?” I said.

  “Me,” she said.

  “What about you?”

  “That I have a good eye,” she said.

  I had a good idea what she was getting at, but I was in the mood, so I asked anyway.

  “What do you mean?”

  “When I first saw you,” Nell said. “He was right.”

  “About?” I said.

  “You, of course,” she said.

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you,” she said. “Being a man of substance. A man of quick resolve.”

  We stood together in silence. She looked off down the street for some time, then looked back to me.

  “About what I said,” Nell said. “When we were washing dishes together.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “You don’t have to say anything.”

  She smiled.

  “Not that I’ve not thought about it,” I said. “I have.”

  “Thought of it?” Nell said.

  “Yes,” I said, “but another man’s wife is another man’s wife.”

  She looked at me, nodding slightly, and a slow smile came to her face.

  “Thought about it?” she said.

  I nodded.

  Nell nodded . . . “Can I ask you a question?” she said.

  “Of course,” I said.

  “Do you think I’m beautiful?” Nell said.

  “I do.”

  “Good,” she said. “I needed to make sure.”

  “Make sure?” I said.

  “Yes,” she said. “I just needed to know it was beautiful me with the flowers and the butterflies.”

  “Now that you mention it,” I said. “I’m pretty sure it was you.”

  She laughed and looked away.

  “What’s funny?”

  She looked back to me, that certain look in her eye.

  “There’s no pretty sure to it,” Nell said.

  —76—

  Nudge?” Virgil said.

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Isn’t this exciting,” Allie said, walking up the hall to the parlor.

  Allie’s face was covered with a white cream. She was barefoot, wearing just her corset, bloomers, and chemise, when she entered the living room, vigorously rubbing in the cream with her fingertips.

  Virgil looked at me and shook his head a little as he got out of his chair and walked to the breakfront.

  “It is,” I said.

  “Finally get to see them perform,” Allie continued on, as she entered the kitchen. “Lord knows there’s been some awful business recently, for all of us.”

  Virgil got two glasses and the Kentucky and closed the breakfront door.

  “Especially you, Everett,” Allie said, as she came back from the kitchen, wiping the goo from her face with a rag. “You getting shot there at the Yaqui Brakes being the absolute worst of all for me, the worst for me.”

  She stood, continuing to wipe her face as she talked to us.

  “I know it has been absolutely dreadful, all that has happened recently, but tonight will be uplifting and inspiring for Appaloosa and us,” she said. “This will be special, and I know you won’t be disappointed, Virgil.”

  “Okay,” Virgil said. “You gonna put some clothes on, or are you planning on going like that?”

  “I’m wearing the new dress I ordered and you paid for,” she said with a chirp. “What time is it, Everett?”

&
nbsp; I looked to the clock on the wall behind me.

  “Quarter past,” I said.

  “Oh,” she said. “I got to get myself moving.”

  “Well, do,” Virgil said. “Get going, get yourself ready.”

  “I won’t be long,” she said, as she turned for the hall. “But I do need this time to make myself pretty.”

  “You don’t need no time for that, Allie,” Virgil said. “You’re pretty as a peach just as you are.”

  Allie stopped and turned back to Virgil.

  “Why, Virgil Cole,” she said. “Aren’t you adorable?”

  “Don’t think that’s the right word, Allie,” Virgil said. “But I appreciate it all the same.”

  She walked up to him and kissed him on the lips, leaving a circle of white cream around his mouth.

  “You are,” she said, as she rubbed the cream off his face with the rag. “Adorable. Don’t you think, Everett?”

  “I do,” I said.

  “Go on,” Virgil said, pointing to the hall behind her.

  Allie turned and scampered off down the hall.

  “I won’t be long,” she said. “I do not want to be late.”

  Virgil watched her, then turned to me, holding up the bottle and glasses.

  “We’ll be on the porch waiting on you, Allie,” Virgil called to her.

  Virgil opened the door and I followed him out to the porch.

  We sat in the side-by-side chairs that backed up to the house. Virgil poured us each a nudge of whiskey.

  “She’s excited,” I said.

  “She is,” Virgil said.

  We sat for quite a bit watching the sun dropping as we sipped on the Kentucky.

  “Maybe she’s right,” Virgil said.

  “’Bout what?”

  “Maybe this Extravaganza will be uplifting and inspiring,” Virgil said.

  “Has been some bad business for Appaloosa,” I said.

  Virgil looked at me out of the corner of his eye.

  “Look forward to seeing this fortune-teller,” Virgil said. “This sage.”

  I nodded a little but didn’t say anything.

  “Hard to figure,” Virgil said. “That business?”

  “Is,” I said.

  We sat quiet for a bit, drinking our whiskey. I thought about her. Séraphine the fortune-teller. Wondered about her and where the hell she came from and where she’d be going. I imagined what it might be like if she stayed and what it’d be like to be with her on a day in, day out basis. On many levels we were certainly goddamn good together. Maybe it was possible. Hocus-by-God-pocus, I thought . . . anything is possible.