“Tell them not to follow,” he said to Bragg.
Again, Bragg was silent. I could see the flush of redness on his cheekbones.
“I’d like you dead, Bragg,” Cole said quietly. “I’m taking you in legal, like a law officer, but if you attempt to escape or impede me in my duty, I got every right to shoot you dead, and no one will say no.”
“If you kill me,” Bragg said, “then there ain’t no reason for my men not to chase you down and kill you.”
“If they can,” Cole said. “Either way, won’t make no difference to you.”
Bragg was silent. Cole was silent. The horses stood quietly, tossing their heads every once in a while for reasons of their own.
“Tell ’em not follow us,” Cole said to Bragg, “or I’ll shoot you dead right here. Right now.”
Again, there was silence. Cole’s face showed nothing. I could hear Bragg’s breathing. He looked at me.
“You?” he said.
“Both barrels,” I said.
He turned his head slowly away from Cole’s gun and looked back at the line of riders back across the river.
“Vince,” he hollered.
“Yessir, Mr. Bragg.”
“Don’t follow us. You understand.”
“They making you say that, Mr. Bragg?”
“They are. But I mean it. Stay put.”
“You say so, Mr. Bragg.”
We moved the horses forward again. A half mile from the ranch, Cole holstered his Colt, and I slid the shotgun back in the saddle scabbard.
“Do hope you’ll make a run for it,” Cole said to Bragg. “Save us all a lot of time and trouble.”
“I’m riding in with you,” Bragg said.
Which he did.
There were two jail cells along the right wall of the marshal’s office as you entered. Both cell doors stood open.
“You prefer one to another?” Cole said when we brought Bragg in.
“Don’t matter,” Bragg said. “I won’t be here long.”
“Circuit judge don’t come through for two and a half weeks, if he’s on time,” Cole said.
“I won’t be here long,” Bragg said again.
He went into the first cell and pulled the door shut behind him. I locked it and took the key. The rest of the office was very plain: a stove for winter, a big old table that Cole used for a desk, two straight chairs against the wall opposite the cells, a spittoon in the corner, and a wooden water bucket and dipper sitting on one of the chairs. Bragg sat on the cot in the cell and looked at us.
“Need to be on him all the time,” Cole said to me. “Round the clock.”
I nodded.
“I’ll stay here,” Cole said. “You go down, get something to eat, and come back. Bring him some.”
“I’ll be at the Chinaman’s,” I said. “Won’t take long.”
Cole sat down at the big table and laid his Winchester on it. I leaned my shotgun against the wall next to Cole and handed him the key to Bragg’s cell. He tossed it on the table, put his feet up, and tilted his chair back. I went to lunch.
When I came back with boiled beef and navy beans on a tin plate for Bragg, Cole was in the same position. As far as I could tell, he hadn’t moved. Except that his eyes were open, I’d have thought he was asleep. There was a small pass-through in the cell door. I passed the food in. Bragg took it silently and sat back down and set it on the cot beside him.
“I’m goin’ to have lunch with Allie,” Cole said. “Be back before suppertime. Any trouble, you fire off a couple of rounds and I’ll hear you.”
“ ’Less you’re riding at a hard gallop,” I said.
Cole stopped at the doorway and turned.
“We known each other a long time, Everett,” Cole said. “But I don’t care for them kinds of remarks, ’bout Allie French.”
“No, and you shouldn’t,” I said. “I apologize.”
Cole nodded.
“Apology accepted,” Cole said. “You meant no harm.”
He paused for a moment on his way out. Then he gestured for me to join him and stepped out onto the boardwalk. I went out with him and left the door open.
“I figure,” he said to me quietly, “that we’re going to need to keep an eye on Whitfield.”
“We’ll need him,” I said, “when the judge gets here.”
“And we have to watch Bragg,” Cole said.
“Maybe we can keep him a secret,” I said.
Cole shook his head.
“Town’s too small,” he said. “Half the people in town already know he’s back.”
“We could put him in the other cell,” I said. “Then one of us could watch them both.”
Cole was quiet for a minute.
“Yes, we’ll do that,” he said. “I’ll bring him down soon as I’ve seen Allie.”
He turned without saying anything else and started toward the hotel. I went back into the office and sat in the chair he’d vacated and turned and looked at Bragg. He looked back. Neither of us said anything. He hadn’t touched the food. After a while I put my feet up on the desk and tilted the chair back the same as Cole had and tilted my hat down and closed my eyes and had a nap.
We kept Whitfield in one cell and Bragg in the other, the only difference being that Bragg’s cell was locked. Bragg spent much of his time looking at Whitfield like a hangman looking at a felon. It made Whitfield nervous, but there was nothing to be done. He spent a lot of time sitting outside the office with me, watching whatever was happening on Main Street. When I sat out there, I left the office door open and held the eight-gauge across my lap.
“When’s that judge coming through here, now?” Whitfield said.
“Ten more days.”
“You think they’ll put Bragg in jail?”
“Ain’t my department,” I said.
“What happens to me after the trial.”
“You ride on back to wherever you rode on to the first time,” I said.
“You think they’ll try to get me?”
“You ain’t sleeping in the jail for comfort,” I said.
“Even after the trial?”
“Straight on,” I said. “We’ll ride you out away, give you a head start, and you can disappear. You done it before.”
“Why the hell am I doing this?” Whitfield said.
“The right thing to do?”
“Get my ass shot,” Whitfield said. “That’s what I’ll do.”
From where I sat, I could glance back through the open door and see Bragg’s cell. He was lying on his bunk, staring at the ceiling.
“Me ’n Virgil will prevent that,” I said.
“I run off once,” Whitfield said.
Across the street, two women in bonnets and long dresses walked past. One of them walked with a beguiling wiggle. We both watched until she turned into McKenzie’s Store. And then we both watched the store, waiting for her to come out.
“I run off before,” Whitfield said. “I couldn’t stop myself. I seen Jack go down and the other deputy-hell, I don’t even remember his name-and I was running ’fore I even knew it.”
“It can happen,” I said.
“Ever happen to you?”
An eight-horse team pulled a lumber wagon past us, kicking up the dust in the street. I watched them go past.
“Did it?”
“Did it what?” I said.
“Ever happen to you?”
“You mean did I ever run off in the heat of battle?” I said.
“Yeah.”
I shook my head.
“Nope, can’t say I ever did.”
“I done it.”
“I know,” I said. “And I ain’t saying I won’t. Men break when they break, mostly.”
The two women came out of McKenzie’s carrying parcels. They headed back the way they had come. The one with the wiggle was walking closest to the street. Her dress was tight.
“Good-looking ass,” Whitfield said.
“I noticed that, too,” I said.
We watched her move away from us. At the corner of Second Street, she glanced back over her shoulder at us and then turned the corner and disappeared.
“I’m bettin’ Virgil Cole never run.”
“Be a good bet,” I said. “I honestly don’t think Virgil’s ever even been afraid.”
