Robert Parker - Blue-Eyed Devil

“Yep,” Virgil said.

“And?” Stringer said.

“Offered us a job,” Virgil said.

“Which you turned down,” Stringer said.

“Everett and me don’t like him,” Virgil said.

Stringer studied the surface of his whiskey for a moment and then drank some.

“How come?” Stringer said.

Virgil looked at me.

“He annoyed Virgil,” I said. “Kinda full of himself.”

Stringer nodded.

“Don’t make no mistake with him,” Stringer said. “He’s a horse’s ass, okay, but he knows what he wants. He’ll do what he needs to get it. He can shoot, and he will. Got some people working for him can shoot.”

“Twelve people working for him,” I said.

“Town got big fast,” Stringer said.

“Virgil and me ran it with two,” I said. “It get six times bigger?”

“More people work for you, more power you got,” Stringer said. “Callico’s ambitious.”

“He want to be sheriff?” I said.

“It’s the next step,” Stringer said.

“To what?” Virgil said.

“Governor.”

“Why’s he want to be governor,” Virgil said.

“Probably ’cause it’s the next step to senator,” Stringer said. “I don’t know what Callico wants.”

“What kind of lawman is he?” Virgil said.

“Tough, strict, fair enough, I think,” Stringer said. “But he got no heart.”

“Heart don’t do you much good,” Virgil said.

Stringer smiled.

“ ’ Course it doesn’t,” he said. “Makes you soft.”

“Get you killed,” Virgil said.

Stringer said, “You think Virgil Cole got heart, Laurel.”

Laurel was sitting next to Virgil with Allie on her other side. She showed no sign of having heard Stringer’s question.

“She hear me?” Stringer said.

“She don’t much talk with anybody but Virgil,” I said.

“Hell,” Stringer said.

Laurel leaned in close to Virgil and whispered to him. Virgil smiled. He looked at me for a moment, then at Stringer.

“Laurel claims I got the most heart in the world,” he said.

THE BOSTON HOUSE had changed hands twice since I had killed Randall Bragg. But Willis McDonough in his starched white shirt was still the head bartender. And he bought us each a drink when Virgil and I went in to say hello.

“New owner’s a fella from Chicago named Lamar Speck,” Willis said. “Nice enough fella, I guess. You boys looking for work?”

“Might be,” Virgil said.

“No peace-officer work, I guess,” Willis said.

“I guess,” Virgil said.

As always, Virgil was looking at the room, paying no attention, seeing everything. I didn’t bother. Virgil would do it anyway, and he saw more than I did.

“Got more peace officers than you can shake a stick at,” Willis said.

“Need ’em all?” Virgil said.

Willis shrugged.

“You boys kept things pretty well buttoned up with just two of you.”

“So why so many?” I said.

Willis looked around at the near-empty bar, then leaned forward and lowered his voice.

“Might be another plan,” he said.

“What?” Virgil said.

“I’m just a bartender,” Willis said, “but…”

Virgil waited.

Willis looked around again and leaned in toward us even closer.

“Not much happens around here anymore without Chief Callico having something to do with it,” he said softly.

“Payoffs?” Virgil said.

“I’m just the bartender.”

“But you hear things,” Virgil said.

“I think Mr. Speck gives him money.”

“What happens if he don’t?” Virgil said.

“There’s trouble, police are too busy, ya know? Too busy to get here.”

“And you got nobody to keep order?” I said.

Willis shook his head.

“Was a fella named Hector Barnes,” Willis said. “Worked the lookout chair with his brother, Chico. But they quit.”

“Why?” Virgil said.

Willis shrugged.

“I think the police was bothering them about things.”

“They run ’em off?” Virgil said.

Willis shrugged.

“Ain’t here no more,” he said.

“And Speck is making his payments,” Virgil said.

“Might be,” Willis said.

“Anybody say anything to the sheriff?” I said.

“He’s a day’s ride from here,” Willis said.

“So?”

“Something might happen to you or your place, by the time the sheriff got to sending a deputy down.”

“So, how come you’re telling us,” I said.

“Figured it might be a job opening for you boys,” Willis said.

“Keepin’ the peace in the Boston House?” I said.

“I tole Mr. Speck I’d speak to you, first time you come in,” Willis said.

“Should we talk to Mr. Speck,” I said.

“I can arrange it,” Willis said.

I looked at Virgil. He nodded slowly. I nodded with him.

“Why don’t you,” Virgil said to Willis.

LAMAR SPECK was a little skinny guy with a big Adam’s apple and a prominent nose. He dressed like a dandy. Black coat with velvet lapels, a red-and-gold vest, striped trousers. He sat at a big rolltop desk in the back office of the saloon, and swiveled around in his chair and stood when Willis showed us in.

“Mr. Cole,” he said. “Mr. Hitch. A pleasure.”

We agreed that it was a pleasure.

“I understand that you gentlemen are looking for work,” Speck said.

“Might be,” Virgil said.

“Sit,” Speck said. “Please.”

We sat. McDonough was looking at Virgil as he talked. Everybody always talked to Virgil.

“I have of course heard of you gentlemen, especially, Mr. Cole. And of course I know you used to be the lawmen in town.”

“We were,” Virgil said.

“And I know that most of our citizens respect you both,” Speck said.

“They surely do,” Virgil said.

He didn’t show it. But I knew Virgil was getting restless. It drove him crazy when people rambled on, except when it was him.

“So, I thought to myself, Lamar, here’s a chance to get some first-rate help. If you boys will agree, I’ll hire you, and if there’s trouble, you’ll take care of it.”

“How much?” Virgil said.

Speck told him.

“You don’t have anybody sitting lookout?” Virgil said.

“The police arrested my last one,” Speck said. “Turns out he was wanted in Kansas.”

“Kansas,” Virgil said, and looked at me.

“The police keep a sharp eye in Appaloosa,” I said.

“We run our own show,” Virgil said. “Post a list of rules, people obey them or they leave. People give us trouble, we shoot them.”

“Shoot?”

“You think people gonna obey the rules ’cause they like us?” Virgil said.

“Well, ah, no, of course not, I guess.”

“They obey the rules ’cause they know we’ll shoot,” Virgil says. “Which means maybe, now and then, we’ll have to.”

“Well, I… certainly. You know this work best.”

“Police gonna be helpful?” I said.

“I’m sure they will be pleased to have help,” Speck said.

“They been helpful in the past?” I said.

“They are often very busy,” Speck said.

“Ain’t had any trouble with Callico?” Virgil said.

“Certainly not,” Speck said. “Except for my lookout.”

Virgil nodded.

“We’ll come by in the morning,” Virgil said. “Give a list of our rules. You agree to post them. We’ll start work.”

Speck stood and put out his hand. Virgil ignored it.

“Virgil don’t shake hands,” I said. “Nothing personal.”

“Oh,” Speck said. “Oh, well, very good. I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

As we stood on the porch outside the Boston House, Virgil said, “You ain’t wanted in Kansas, are you?”