As soon as the riders were gone, I came out of the office, still carrying the eight-gauge. I took each barrel off cock as I came.
“Whitfield run off,” I said.
“Too bad,” Cole said.
He had his hat back on and set right, and as far as you could tell, he had just gotten up from a nap.
Up the street, Allie French came out of the Boston House and ran along the boardwalk toward Cole.
“Oh, Virgil,” she said. “Virgil.”
Cole stood and waited.
“Oh, Virgil,” she said again. “Are you all right?”
“I am,” Cole said.
She ran right into him and pressed her face against his chest and put her arms around him.
“That was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen. Just you and all those men. That was wonderful.”
Cole seemed a little uneasy about what to do. Being Virgil Cole, he didn’t show much. But he stood still with his arms at his sides and didn’t look at anything.
“Everett was with me,” he said.
People had come out of the shops and saloons and housing, where they had earlier taken refuge.
“Oh, pooh on Everett,” Allie said. “He was inside, hiding. It was you out there all alone, Virgil. That was heroic.”
“Everett wasn’t exactly hiding, Allie.”
The people began to gather round, looking at Cole and Allie. I saw Katie Goode in the crowd and nodded at her. Allie lifted her face from Cole’s chest and turned toward the crowd, her arms still holding on to Cole in proud ownership.
“Isn’t that the most heroic thing you folks have ever seen?” she said.
Somebody began to clap, and then pretty soon everyone was clapping. Allie stood, holding on to Cole, smiling at the crowd as if they were clapping for her. I was watching Cole. For maybe the first time since I’d met him, he didn’t quite know what was going on. And he didn’t quite know what to do about it.
“That’ll be fine,” he said to the crowd. “That’ll be fine.”
Then he turned away and steered Allie away, and they walked into the marshal’s office.
As they went by, Cole said softly to me, “Send them home, Everett.”
After I got the crowd moving, I walked with Katie Goode back toward the Boston House.
“You need a drink?” she said.
“Be nice,” I said.
“Yesterday was payday at the mine,” Katie said. “I’ll buy.”
“Be nice,” I said.
We had a table near the bar. I drank some beer. Katie had a whiskey.
“Mr. Raines don’t normally want us to drink in here,” Katie said. “But if I’m with you, he won’t say nothing.”
“So you had more reason than just how good-lookin’ I am,” I said. “To buy me a beer.”
“Good-lookin’s enough,” she said.
Some miners who still had money left were lining the bar. The rainstorm had broken the heat, and it was cool again today, with some air moving in through the street door.
“He really is something,” Katie said. “Isn’t he?”
She had on a flowered dress with puffy shoulders and a bonnet. She could have been a ranch woman, or a miner’s wife, except she looked too good, and she smelled sort of soapy. She told me once that she washed herself all over, every day.
“Virgil?” I said. “I ain’t seen a man like Virgil Cole, ever.”
“Is he really not afraid to die?”
“Never seen no sign of it,” I said.
“Does he feel anything?”
“I don’t know. I believe he’s feeling something for Allie French.”
“Her,” Katie said.
“Don’t know how many women Virgil’s ever actually spent time with. I mean, he has women whenever he wants them, but it’s mostly in and out real quick, without much conversation.”
“Lotta men are like that,” Katie said.
“Yes,” I said. “I imagine. But I ain’t sure Virgil ever had a woman call him heroic, ’cept she was drunk and had her drawers off.”
“Did you like her little performance?” Katie said.
“Not so much,” I said.
“You think Mr. Cole liked it?”
“Hard to say what Virgil likes,” I said. “He wasn’t Virgil Cole, I’d say he might have been embarrassed.”
“Or flattered.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I said. “Virgil don’t normally think about things like that.”
“That’s an evil woman, Everett.”
I didn’t say anything.
“She is,” Katie said. “I know about evil women, Everett, and I know about sex. And I know how silly men are about it.”
“Not all of us,” I said.
“No, you seem pretty level, Everett. I got to say that. But I’ll bet you when Mr. Cole’s not around, she flirts with you.”
“How do you know that?” I said.
“She does,” Katie said. “Don’t she?”
“Yes,” I said. “Fact is, she got kind of hot with me when we were looking at the new house Virgil’s building for her.”
Katie smiled, as if she was wise. Which she wasn’t really. But she had Allie’s number.
“What did you do?” Katie said.
“I run off,” I said.
“You say anything to Mr. Cole.”
“No.”
“You going to say anything?”
“No. Virgil couldn’t hear something like that.”
She sipped a little of her whiskey, watching me over the rim of the glass.
“And I don’t want him knowing anything about it from you. I ain’t told anybody else, so if he finds out, I’ll know who couldn’t keep her mouth closed.”
“I won’t tell,” Katie said. “But ain’t it so, Everett, sometimes I been with you, you didn’t want me keeping my mouth closed.”
She looked straight at me and we both laughed.
“There’ll be those times again,” I said.
“Surely,” Katie said, and sipped whiskey. “But you’re his friend, Everett. Don’t you think you ought to tell him?”
“Can’t,” I said. “He couldn’t hear it.”
“What if she tells him?”
“Why would she tell him?” I said.
“I tole you, she’s evil,” Katie said. “What if she tells him and says it was your doing.”
“He’ll kill me,” I said.
Katie frowned and looked down at her whiskey glass, studying the brown surface of the whiskey.
“Sooner or later,” Katie said, “she’s gonna tell him.”
The next morning Whitfield came into the marshal’s office looking bad.
“I slept in the feed loft,” he said, “at the livery stable.”
“Well,” Cole said, “you come back.”
“I can’t face up to guns no more,” Whitfield said.
“But you’ll testify,” Cole said.
“I will.”
“That’s fine,” Cole said. “Everett and me will face up to the guns.”
Bragg, leaning against the bars of his cell, said, “You gonna get your chance, too, Whitfield.”
It was like I could see the skin tighten on Whitfield’s face, and the fear come in. Cole took his feet off the tabletop and stood and walked over to the cell. He stood close to the bars, an inch or so away from Bragg.
“We been treating you kindly,” Cole said to Bragg. “In return for that, we expect you to speak when spoken to and otherwise stay quiet.”
“I can talk if I want to,” Bragg said.
“And me and Everett can come into that cell and lock the door behind us and beat the sweet Jesus hell right out of you every morning instead of breakfast.”
“You wouldn’t talk that way if I had a gun,” Bragg said.
“Don’t matter if I would or wouldn’t,” Cole said, “fact is you don’t, and I do, so the point appears mute.”
Bragg met Cole’s look for a bit and then couldn’t hold it, and turned away and sat on his bunk. Cole walked back and sat at his desk and put his feet up.
“Don’t pay him too much mind,” he said to Whitfield.
“He’s right, though,” Whitfield said. “What about after the trial?”
“After the trial, Bragg goes to prison, and Everett and me escort you to a faraway place of your choosing,” Cole said.
“And before the trial.”
“You stay right here with us,” Cole said.
