The Bridge (28 page)

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. Everett
,” 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
—

N
udge?” 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?”

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.

“Hear that?” Virgil said.

I listened a moment and nodded.

“Music.”

“Sounds as if they’re getting things going over there,” Virgil said.

I nodded.

We just listened for a while to the faint sound of the music being played by the tent-show band from where they pitched camp north of town. It carried an eerie echo through the streets.

—
77
—

V
irgil, Allie, and I walked the streets to the vacant lot where the big tent was set up. With each block we walked we could hear the band getting louder and louder.

Other Appaloosa townsfolk were moving through the streets, too, and we soon found ourselves in a stream of traffic headed for the festivities.

When we rounded the corner we could see the band sitting out in front of the tent playing a lively tune, as two jugglers kept numerous colorfully painted balls in the air.

Beauregard stood next to the tent’s entrance, greeting the crowd with big how-do-you-dos.

He was in costume. His face was painted with makeup. His eyebrows were dark, his face was powdery white, and his cheeks and lips were bright red. He was dressed like Porthos the Musketeer with a huge feathered hat that flipped up in the front, a velvet frockcoat and waistcoat, knee-high boots, a sword attached to his hip, and a handkerchief protruding from under his coat sleeve.

“Oh, goodness,” Allie said with the enthusiasm of a child. “Oh my goodness.”

“Looks like a good turnout, Allie,” I said.

“Oh, it does, Everett,” she said. “It certainly does.”

“I suspect your promotional efforts paid off,” I said.

“There’s Nell,” Allie said.

Nell exited the tent in an elaborate Marie Antoinette–like pannier-hooped dress with a low-cut bodice that exposed a good part of her bosom.

“Oh my word,” Allie said.

“Guess it’s almost showtime,” I said.

Allie excitedly scurried her way through the crowd and over to Nell.

“Guess so,” Virgil said.

“Big to-do,” I said.

“It is,” Virgil said, looking around.

Beauregard saw Virgil and me as we moved closer toward the entrance with the rest of the townsfolk.

“Hello, gentlemen,” he said, over the top of the others in front of us.

Beauregard stepped away from the crowd and got in step with Virgil and me as we moved toward the entrance.

“Marshal Cole,” he said. “And Deputy Marshal Hitch. Welcome. I am certainly glad you came out tonight. We have an exciting show in store for you this evening.”

“Looking forward to it,” I said.

“And you, Marshal?”

“Me, too,” Virgil said.

“Fantastic,” he said, then stopped walking.

We stopped as well, because he was leaning in as if he needed to say something.

“Look,” Beauregard said. “I know we got off on the wrong foot and I know you don’t much care for me. But I just want you to know, as much as you may despise me, I hold no one more accountable for those despicable feelings toward me other than me.”

“Despicable feelings?” Virgil said, looking around at the crowd. “We’re here like everyone else, to see your show. Ain’t that right, Everett?”