The Bridge (23 page)

Eddie nodded.

“Those boys were southerners,” Eddie said. “That’s for damn sure.”

“Whorehouse down there seems like the type of place they’d be,” I said.

“Least till they felt like they were in the clear,” Virgil said.

“Not that far,” I said. “Worth a try.”

“You going there?” Eddie said.

Virgil looked at me.

“If so,” Eddie said. “And if it’s okay with you, Mr. Swickey, I want to go with them.”

“Let these men do their job, Eddie,” Swickey said.

“Jim was my only family,” Eddie said.

“No matter,” Swickey said.

“Does matter,” Eddie said.

“These men are lawmen, Eddie,” Swickey said.

“There ain’t been a day gone by since I saw him hanging there that I’ve not thought about him, Mr. Swickey,” Eddie said. “He was good to me. We’d been together for a good long while. He taught me a lot. When I rode away that day, I felt like a coward for not going back and standing up for what was in my heart, and I’ve felt like a coward every day since . . . If it’s okay, I’d like to go.”

Swickey started to speak, but Eddie continued.

“But if you don’t want me to,” Eddie said, “I understand, but if so I quit.”

“Quit?” Swickey said.

“Just as soon quit you, Mr. Swickey,” Eddie said, “than to let Jim go like this, like I done.”

Eddie looked to Virgil and me.

“I’m no gun hand,” Eddie said. “Not really good with one, but I can be helpful. Just as soon die as live another day thinking about them and what they done to Jim.”

Swickey looked at Eddie for a long moment, then looked to Virgil.

“What about the ranchers?” Swickey said.

“What about them?” Virgil said.

“What is your order of priority?” Swickey said.

“As in looking for them?” Virgil said.

“Yes,” Swickey said. “I don’t know the new upstarts over here, but I do know some names of some of the older groups that could, not saying they are, but could, be behind this.”

“Better to snuff out the wick before pouring out the oil,” Virgil said.

“Is,” I said. “At least since we know the Yaqui Brakes might well prove to be their whereabouts.”

“No guarantee,” Swickey said.

“Never is,” Virgil said.

“You gonna go?” Eddie said.

“We are,” Virgil said.

“Okay I go?” Eddie said.

Virgil looked to me.

I nodded.

Virgil looked to Swickey.

Swickey looked to Eddie, then Virgil, and nodded.

“What would you like for me to do, Marshal Cole?” Swickey said.

“The best we can hope for,” Virgil said, “is we capture one of these mutts and get to the bottom of who paid them to do what they did. If for some reason that don’t play out for us in that fashion, you could let me know the names of outfits that you feel might be behind this.”

“Already have,” Swickey said.

Swickey pulled out a piece of paper from his vest pocket and handed it to Virgil.

Virgil looked at the paper. He read it and handed it to me.

“Good enough,” Virgil said.

“When will you go to the brakes?” Swickey said.

“Now,” Virgil said.

“And Eddie?” Swickey said.

Virgil looked to Eddie.

“You think you got the stomach for this?” Virgil said.

“I don’t got the stomach not to,” Eddie said.

Virgil nodded and stood up. He walked to the side door and looked out. He stepped outside.

“Skinny Jack,” Virgil called out. “Come here.”

Virgil walked back into the room and looked at everyone looking at him.

“Here we go,” Virgil said.

—
60
—

W
e left Swickey and his other hands at the Boston House and made our way back to the front of the sheriff’s office, where we met with Chastain and readied ourselves to ride.

“What if they ain’t there?” Chastain said.

“Then they ain’t there,” Virgil said.

“If they are there,” Chastain said, “you think they will
all
be there? Still be together?”

Virgil looked to me.

“Good chance,” I said.

“Is,” Virgil said.

“Like a pack of dogs,” I said.

“Think Ballard will still be among ’em?” Chastain said.

“We do,” I said.

“He’s come this far with them,” Virgil said. “And going by what we know of him he could very well be the goddamn stallion of the herd by now.”

“Don’t figure they’ll still be dressed in no blues,” Chastain said. “Do you think?”

Virgil looked to me.

“Don’t think so,” I said.

“Wouldn’t be very fitting to wear a Union uniform in a holdout camp,” Virgil said.

“Never know, though,” I said.

Virgil nodded.

“They might,” he said.

“Might all think it a goddamn funny novelty,” I said.

“Well, let’s say they don’t,” Chastain said. “And like you, I doubt they’d still be tramping around in uniforms, so how the hell will we know these men?”

Virgil pointed to Eddie.

“Eddie knows the faces of the two of them,” Virgil said. “The Cotters.”

Eddie nodded.

“I damn sure do,” he said.

“I know one of them,” I said. “When I saw them ride by Hal’s on their way into town. I won’t forget that face. Not ever. I suspect he was one of the Cotters.”

“And Ballard’s a cock hound,” Virgil said. “Tall, handsome man, longhorn mustache. Got a good idea we’ll know him.”

I nodded.

“They all had Union saddles,” I said. “McClellans. They didn’t bother to take our men’s saddles when they killed their horses, so unless they had some other saddles someplace or bought some saddles, we’ll have that to look for.”

“That leaves four more,” Chastain said. “How will we know them?”

“Don’t suppose we’ll know,” Virgil said. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find that Ballard and the Cotters strung them up like the others they’ve left in their wake.”

We left Skinny Jack and Book to keep the peace in Appaloosa and the four of us, Virgil, Chastain, Eddie, and me, rode out of the city just before eleven o’clock, and headed for the Yaqui Brakes.

The snow had stopped falling and the clouds looked to be separating some, but the roads were snow-covered and the ride was slow going.

The brakes were a good five miles of high, thick brush with passages through them that led to a central camp where the tents were pitched next to the creek.

There were other holdout camps like the Yaqui Brakes, and this one was not unlike the others we’d seen. Holdout camps consisted of mostly nonconforming southern miscreants and rabble-rousers who thought the war was still going on, or at least thought it should be going on. They were uncomfortable being around anyone who wasn’t as crossways as they were or thought the way they thought.

The bad news about the Yaqui Brakes was there were at least ten ways in and ten ways out.

As we neared the brakes the snow was not as deep as it was back in the Appaloosa direction, and the riding became increasingly easier.

Late in the afternoon, when we came upon a low section of land where the rail and the road next to the rail turned to the west, I stopped and looked back to the others trailing behind me.

“This is it,” I said, pointing to the lowland to our left.

Virgil nodded and looked around.

“It is,” Virgil said.

“How far, in there?” Chastain said.

“Five miles, maybe,” I said.

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

“Want to wait till dark,” Virgil said.

—
61
—

I
t’s damn near dark now,” I said.

“It is,” Virgil said.

“We go in the dark and see them,” Chastain said, “in their camp light and they don’t see us?”

“That’d be the idea,” Virgil said.

“It’s a long walk in there,” I said, “but that’s the only way, I’d say. Don’t you think, Virgil?”

“I do,” Virgil said.

“So we go in on foot?” Chastain said.

“We do,” Virgil said. “Taking horses in there would be like wearing cowbells.”

We rode down into the low section and followed the rail for a while until we came to a truss bridge where the rails crossed over a wash.

It was damn near dark when we dismounted under the bridge and got our horses secured and readied our weapons.

“How we gonna go about taking out hornets and not disrupting the whole nest?” Chastain said.

“Holdouts for the most part are blowhards,” Virgil said.

“They are,” I said.

“Yep,” Virgil said. “That’s why they bunch together like they do.”

“You don’t think they’ll have bigger balls the more they are?” Chastain said.

“There is no way of knowing for sure just how this will go down,” Virgil said. “But they will not know how many we are.”

Chastain nodded and pulled his carbine from its scabbard.

“If the situation calls for it,” Virgil said, “we’ll let them all know they are surrounded.”

“What situation would that be?” Chastain said.

“Don’t know all the particulars,” Virgil said. “I suspect we’ll know if and when that sort of declaration needs to be made.”

“Weather’s in our favor,” I said.

“It is,” Virgil said.

Chastain nodded.

“Not exactly the kind of weather for lying on a blanket and watching the stars,” Chastain said.

“Not,” Virgil said. “The lot will be hunkered inside where it’s warm.”

Chastain cocked his carbine.

“We go?” Chastain said.

“We do,” Virgil said.

“What do you want me to do?” Eddie said to Virgil.

“Keep that Winchester at ready,” Virgil said. “We’ll all move together, slowly, quietly. When we get close we’ll see what we can see and we’ll go from there.”

We made certain before it was too dark that we found an entrance into the brakes. We followed the path down toward the creek and in no time it was so dark we couldn’t see a foot in front of our face. We relied on the brush on either side of the path to guide us as we moved through the darkness.

We walked and walked for more than an hour and it seemed we
were moving in circles, but then we heard some distant laughter and we knew we were near.

After walking a little while longer and as we got closer we smelled smoke and heard more sounds of the holdouts in front of us.

Virgil pulled us close together and whispered, “Let’s keep moving toward them. The very first sign of light we see, we stop.”

We moved on, doing as Virgil said, until we saw through the thickets some light ahead of us and we stopped.

“Everett, you and Chastain stay put,” Virgil said. “Eddie, you come with me. We’ll get a little closer and have a look-see, maybe you can spot one of them?”

Virgil and Eddie moved off and we waited.

After a while we saw the vague outlines of Virgil and Eddie as they made their way back to us.

“What’d ya see?” I said.

“I didn’t see them,” Eddie said.

“We’re on the end of the camp here. Everything is spread out that direction,” Virgil said with a point to his right.

“What do you figure?” Chastain said.

“Let’s move off this way,” Virgil said, pointing to his left. “We’ll cross the creek and move down the bank on the other side. Have a better view.”

We did as Virgil said. We walked to our left until we were in complete darkness again, then we crossed the creek and moved down the bank on the opposite side.

We stayed out of the camp’s spilling light as we moved slowly and cautiously.

We could hear voices, muffled conversations coming from inside tents, but like we figured, as cold as it was, there were only a few people moving about.

We passed by one man chopping wood beside a tent and two others drinking beer as they watched him.

A little farther down the way from them, two men sat next to a spit, turning what looked to be a goat.

Virgil led the way; Chastain was behind him, then Eddie, and then me. Eddie stopped, grabbed my arm.

He was looking at the two men over the spit.

“That’s him,” Eddie said.

—
62
—

V
irgil,” I said softly.

Virgil stopped and looked back. He moved closer to Eddie. He followed Eddie’s look to the two men and the goat.

“The one on the right,” Eddie said. “I think that’s him.”

“You think?” Virgil said.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the younger one,” Eddie said. “Hard to tell from here, what with him all bundled up and all, but I think that’s him. Could tell for sure if we got closer.”

“The good news is,” I said, “there aren’t many others moving about.”

Virgil leaned forward, looking to his left, then looked to his right. Then he looked to the two men at the spit.

“That big tent across the way from them with the wood sides, Everett?” Virgil said. “That the chicken hole?”

“Think so,” I said. “Got some ladies’ stuff on top of that tent rope there.”

“That other fella at the spit there,” Virgil said. “You maybe recognize him as one of them you saw that day when they come riding by Hal’s?”

“Don’t,” I said.

Virgil watched for a moment.

“What do we do, Virgil?” Chastain said.

“Everett?” Virgil said.

“Might as well waltz in there, sort of quiet like,” I said. “Sit by the spit, see what comes up.”

“Got to start somewhere,” Virgil said.

“Good a place as any,” I said.

“It is,” Virgil said.

“Two stay back,” I said. “Keep cover.”

Virgil nodded.

“Two of us go in,” I said.

“Chastain,” Virgil said. “You and Eddie move up on either side of that tent there.”

The two of them nodded.

“Everett and me will do like Everett’s saying,” Virgil said. “We’ll walk in there and sort out what we can. See who’s interested in going to jail or who’s interested in dying.”

“Okay,” Chastain said.

“Eddie,” Virgil said. “You walk with me across the creek and come up on this side of the tent. You’ll have a better view of that fella over the spit.”