Robert Parker - Brimstone

“Sure,” I said. “Like I believe the world’s flat.”

“Looks flat,” Virgil said.

“But it ain’t.”

“Can’t prove it ain’t,” Virgil said.

“You believe what Percival’s saying?”

Virgil shook his head.

“I think he’d fuck a snake if you held it for him,” Virgil said.

“You think he believes what he’s saying?” I said.

“He might,” Virgil said.

“Think he’s been bothering the women?” I said.

“Something you mentioned,” Virgil said. “You mentioned that if he thought God was in him and he was, you know, part of God, and God was part of him, then he’d feel pretty good about doing anything he wanted.”

“Anything God does is the right thing to do,” I said.

“You think he thinks he’s God?”

“Might,” I said.

“That’s disappointing,” Virgil said.

“ ’Cause you thought you were?”

“Still do,” Virgil said. “Just don’t like it that Percival thinks different.”

“So we know it,” I said.

“Can’t prove it,” Virgil said.

“Mary Beth saying so ain’t enough?”

“Nope,” Virgil said. “Too drunk.”

“We could shoot him anyway, just to be safe,” I said.

“Can’t do that,” Virgil said. “Got to know.”

“How you gonna know?” I said.

“Gotta ask the girl,” he said.

ALLIE BROUGHT LAUREL down to the office.

“She got anything to say about Percival,” Virgil said, “better to ask her here.”

Allie sat with Laurel on the couch. I leaned on the doorjamb. Virgil moved his chair to the couch and sat down in front of Laurel.

“You remember me, Virgil,” he said.

She might have nodded.

“I need to ask you some questions about Brother Percival. And I need you to tell me the answers.”

She stared at him as if he hadn’t spoken.

“I can whisper to you,” Virgil said. “And you can whisper back to me if you want to, but I need you to help me with this.”

“Go ahead, honey,” Allie said. “You can do it. It’s important.”

Laurel showed no sign that she heard.

Virgil sat quietly for a time. No one can be as quiet as Virgil Cole, when he wanted to be quiet.

After a little time, he said, “Allie, you and Everett wait outside.”

Allie looked at Laurel.

“You all right with that, honey,” she said.

“We’ll be okay,” Virgil said.

Again, Laurel might have nodded. I opened the office door and stood aside. Allie didn’t seem pleased. But she stood and went out. I followed her and closed the door. We stood near the front window and watched. Virgil took off his hat and put it on the desk behind him. Then he leaned forward and put his face next to Laurel’s and whispered something. He waited. She was motionless. He leaned forward again and whispered and then put his ear next to her lips. The two of them sat that way, with their heads together, Virgil’s hands folded in his lap. I could see that he was whispering.

“What is he doing?” Allie said.

“Whispering,” I said.

“I don’t know if she should be left alone with a man after what happened to her,” Allie said.

“Don’t seem to mind,” I said.

“And Virgil did rescue her,” Allie said.

“All by himself,” I said.

“No, you know what I mean.”

“Virgil was in charge,” I said.

“Virgil’s always in charge,” Allie said.

“True,” I said.

“How’s he know to whisper to her?” Allie said.

“Virgil knows things,” I said.

“How’s he know it’s the right thing to do?”

“Virgil always knows what he’s doing is the right thing to do,” I said. “ ’Cept when it ain’t, and he knows that, too.”

“I guess I still don’t understand him,” Allie said.

“Nothing to understand,” I said. “Virgil don’t never pretend.”

We watched the whispered pantomime through the office window. Laurel was still motionless, her head and Virgil’s close together. I couldn’t tell if she was making any response. But she hadn’t pulled away. I realized that while their heads were close together, Virgil was not touching Laurel.

“I don’t know anyone like him,” Allie said. “Do you?”

“You don’t get to be Virgil Cole,” I said, “being like other folks.”

In the office I saw Virgil nod his head. Then Laurel nodded hers. They still had their heads close to each other.

“Jesus,” I said. “I think they’re talking.”

“My God,” Allie said.

Virgil nodded again. And waited. And nodded again. And whispered. Laurel nodded. Virgil nodded slowly and kept it up, as if Laurel was saying things he agreed with. Then she leaned forward and put her face against his neck and cried. Virgil sat quietly. He didn’t make any move to touch her.

“I better get in there,” Allie said.

“No,” I said.

“She’s crying,” Allie said.

I blocked the doorway.

“No,” I said.

She couldn’t get by me, and she knew it. So we turned back to the window. Inside, Virgil sat quietly while Laurel cried. After a time she stopped and raised her head and sat back. Virgil sat back, too. He reached behind him to the desk and picked up his hat. He put it on and adjusted it, and nodded once at Laurel.

She smiled at him.

“Did she smile?” Allie said.

“Yes,” I said.

He stood and came to the door and opened it.

“We’re done in here,” Virgil said.

“She spoke?” Allie said.

“Yes.”

“What did she say?” Allie said.

“I promised I wouldn’t tell,” Virgil said.

Allie looked like she wanted to argue, but she didn’t. Laurel stood.

Virgil said, “I’ll come by. We’ll take a walk.”

Laurel nodded.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Virgil said.

Laurel nodded.

He looked at Allie.

“Stay with her,” he said.

“I will,” Allie said. “I do.”

She put her arm around Laurel and they went out of the office.

I looked at Virgil. He shrugged slightly. I didn’t ask him what she’d said. I knew he wouldn’t tell me.

TWO SADDLE HORSES plodded up Arrow Street, each dragging something. Sitting on the front porch, Virgil and I watched them come. As they got closer we could see that what they were dragging were the bodies of two men.

I stood.

Virgil said, “Let’s see where they’re going.”

We went out to the street as the horses passed and followed them up Arrow Street. The dead men were covered with dirt, and their heads were black with dried blood.

“Scalped,” Virgil said.

I nodded.

“You recognize them?” I said.

“Kinda hard, them being such a mess,” Virgil said.

“Want to guess?” I said.

“J.D. and Kirby,” Virgil said.

“What I’m guessing,” I said.

At Fifth Street, the horses stopped in front of Pike’s Palace and stood at the hitching rail, and drank from the trough. Virgil went and looked at one of the dead men.

“J.D.,” he said.

He looked at the second man.

“Kirby,” he said.

“They were good,” I said.

“Not as good as the Indian,” Virgil said.

“Guess the Indian’s got their power,” I said.

“Guess,” Virgil said.

“No arrow,” I said. “Probably figured it would fall out while they were dragging into town.”

“Scalping sends the same message,” Virgil said.

“Don’t look like they been dragged far,” I said.

“I’d guess edge of town,” Virgil said.

“So he kills them,” I said, “brings them to the edge of town, hitches them up, and lets the horses drag ’em in.”

“Knows they’ll head for home.”