Robert Parker - Brimstone

“You fucking them,” Virgil said.

“If you came to be abusive,” Percival said, “then this conversation is over.”

“Believe you fucked Allie some, too.”

Percival rose to his feet.

“You’re appalling,” he said to Virgil.

“I am, for a fact,” Virgil said. “You got any plans to close Pike down?”

It was moving a little fast for Brother Percival. He shook his head slightly as if to clear it.

“Pike?” he said.

“Yeah. You planning on running him out like you done all the other saloon owners?” Virgil said.

“ ‘ Saloon owners,’ ” Percival said. “You say it as if it were ordinary. Every one of the sins that accumulated in those hell-holes that I closed has re-formed and erupted in Pike’s Palace. It is the ultimate cesspool of corruption, and it is poisoning the town.”

“That sound like yes to you, Everett?” Virgil said.

“Seems so to me,” I said.

“You think Pike gonna let you close him down?” Virgil said.

“An armed and muscular Christianity cannot be defeated,” Percival answered.

He always sounded to me like he was recycling his own sermons, which he probably was.

“I wouldn’t count too much on Choctaw,” Virgil said.

“I rely on my Father in heaven,” Percival said.

“Probably better than Choctaw,” Virgil said.

Percival looked down at us with contempt, dirtied as we were with mortality.

“Is there a purpose to this visit?” Percival said.

“Ain’t planning to prevent you doing what you going to do,” Virgil said. “Nor Pike from answering you back. You both got the right. But these things have a way of spillin’ over, and I don’t want that to happen.”

“What you want, Deputy,” Percival said, “what either of you wants, doesn’t matter, I am not governed by you and your laws. My allegiance is to a far greater power, and what He and I will do is not open to debate.”

“Well, Brother P.,” Virgil said. “What me and Everett want matters to us, and when it matters enough, we are pretty good at making it matter to other people. I want you to keep this thing between you and Pike between you and Pike.”

Percival stared down at Virgil without speaking.

“And,” Virgil said, “if things get outta hand, I’m gonna shoot you. Everett might shoot you, too.”

Percival continued to stare down at us. Then without a word he turned and stormed away down the center aisle of the church. Virgil and I watched him go.

“Think we scared him?” I said.

“ ’Fraid not,” Virgil said.

“Him or the Heavenly Father,” I said.

“Neither,” Virgil said.

IT WAS LIKE A SUMMER STORM approaching. The atmosphere tightened; I could feel the tension crackling. There was no thunder yet, or lightning, but I could feel it lurking. I knew it was coming. So did everyone else. There were more men with guns standing around. There were fewer people on the streets. The people who were on the streets walked faster. The dogs seemed to slink a little. The horses seemed edgy. Everyone seemed somehow wound a little tighter. Except Virgil. As always, he remained entirely Virgil Cole, regardless of what was going on around him.

“Gonna be one hell a deluge,” I said, as we walked in the evening back to Allie’s house.

“Deluge?” Virgil said. “Like rain?”

“Just thinking out loud,” I said.

Virgil shook his head.

“You’re kinda strange sometimes, Everett,” Virgil said.

“Yeah,” I said. “I know.”

Pony was sitting in a rocker on Allie’s front porch with a Winchester in his lap. Laurel sat on a straight chair next to him.

“Where’s Allie?” Virgil said.

“Cook supper,” Pony said.

“Uh-oh,” Virgil said.

Pony shrugged.

“We’ll be here for a while,” I said to Pony, “you want to go up to Pike’s or whatever.”

“Good,” Pony said. “Maybe eat.”

I grinned.

“Better hurry,” I said. “I think she’s coming.”

Pony stood and leaned the Winchester against the doorjamb.

“Watch the rifle for me,” he said.

Virgil nodded.

“Don’t go too far,” Virgil said.

Pony nodded and walked off toward Arrow Street. Virgil sat next to Laurel.

“You know something?” I said to Virgil.

“Just a feeling,” Virgil said. “Air’s kinda tight.”

I didn’t say anything. Allie came out in an apron. It wasn’t much of an apron, as far as keeping gravy off your dress. But it was cute-looking, and she looked cute in it.

“Supper’s ready,” she said.

She was making progress. The food wasn’t good. But nothing was burned, and we ate as much of it as we could so as not to hurt her feelings. We were back on the porch letting it digest when Pony came silently out of the darkness. Virgil had heard him, I could tell, because he had shifted forward slightly in his chair to clear his gun hand.

“Percival,” he said. “At Pike’s. All lined up. Singing church music.”

“Sounds like it’s gonna start,” I said.

Virgil nodded. He looked at Pony and jerked his head at the women. Pony nodded and picked up his Winchester and sat down beside Laurel. Virgil stood and went into the house. In a moment he came out with another Colt. One with a shorter barrel. A banker’s gun. He gave it to Allie.

“Showed you how to shoot,” Virgil said. “You need to, shoot.”

Allie didn’t say anything. But she nodded and took the gun. Virgil picked up his Winchester. I picked up the eight-gauge.

Virgil looked at the women.

“Be back soon,” he said.

They both nodded. And we started up toward Arrow Street.

THERE WAS LOW CLOUD COVER preventing the moon and stars from being visible. On Arrow Street there were some coal-oil lamps. But the clouds made the side streets very black. I could barely see Virgil beside me. We could hear singing ahead, and when we reached Arrow Street, we could see the singers, Percival and his people, lined up opposite Pike’s Palace, holding torches, singing “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”

Mine eyes have seen the glory…

“Jesus,” Virgil said.

… of the coming of the Lord…

At the center of the line and a little forward was Brother Percival, with Choctaw Brown beside him. Brother Percival was singing at full throat. Choctaw was silent.

… trampling out the vintage…

On the front porch of Pike’s Palace stood maybe a dozen men, all armed. Pike was there, and Abner Noonan, the new shotgun lookout, was beside Pike. I recognized most of the rest from seeing them in the Palace. There were people I didn’t see. I knew Pike had at least twenty.

… where the grapes of wrath are stored…

“Where’s the rest of Pike’s people,” I said.

Virgil nodded at the photographer’s shop across the way. There was an alley on each side of the shop, leading to Market Street. In both alley mouths I could see men.

“If the ball goes up,” I said, “Pike’ll cut them to pieces.”

“Yep.”

“We gonna do anything ’bout that?” I said.

“Nope.”

“Why not.”

“What we gain ain’t commensurate with what we might lose,” Virgil said.

He’d waited all this time to use his new word.

“So we lie back here in the weeds and watch,” I said.

“We do,” Virgil said.

“And if they start shooting, when it’s over, we’ll have that many fewer people to deal with.”

“Exactly right,” Virgil said.

… loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword…

Percival’s people plodded on through the “Battle Hymn,” with the torches dancing in the night air, and Pike and his men motionless and silent on the porch before them.