Robert Parker - Brimstone

“New deputies,” Percival said.

“We are,” Virgil said.

“Here on the Lord’s business?” Percival said.

“Sort of all the Lord’s business, ain’t it?” Virgil said.

“Suppose it is,” Percival said. “But some of it is Satan’s business, too.”

“Well, we’re all opposed to that,” Virgil said.

“I hope so,” Percival said.

Virgil surveyed the church.

“Heard you had an organ,” he said.

“In the choir loft,” Percival said. “The Lord has yet to send us someone to play it.”

Virgil nodded.

“I’m sure,” Virgil said, “that he’ll send someone soon.”

“As am I,” Percival said.

There was a quality of ironic artificiality in his bearing that was hard to figure. It was like we all knew he was a fraud and it amused him to pretend he wasn’t… Or maybe he wasn’t a fraud.

“Lotta deacons,” Virgil said.

“We are not lambs,” Percival said. “Ours is a leonine Christianity.”

Virgil looked at me.

“Leonine,” he said, as if he were tasting the word.

“Like a lion,” I said.

Virgil nodded.

“Leonine,” he said again. “I like it.”

He looked at the deacons some more, then he walked to the line up along the right-hand wall and stopped in front of the first deacon, and looked at him closely.

“Choctaw,” Virgil said. “Choctaw Brown.”

The deacon looked at him impassively.

“Lemme think,” Virgil said.

Nobody moved. The deacon remained impassive. He was about Virgil’s size, and flat-faced.

“Lambert, New Mexico,” Virgil said. “You was with Char-lie Dyer’s bunch.”

“You must have Deacon Brown confused,” Percival said,

“with someone else.”

“Pretty good gun hand,” Virgil said, “as I recall.”

“As I say, Brother Cole,” Percival said, “you must have Deacon Brown confused with another.”

Virgil nodded and walked back to Percival.

“So,” Virgil said. “Your lee-o-nine business causing any trouble for you with folks in town?”

“None that we cannot handle,” Percival said. “We are doing God’s work.”

Virgil smiled.

“I’m sure He’s pleased about that,” Virgil said.

“God exists in each of us,” Percival said.

“Sure,” Virgil said. “How you get along with the folks at Pike’s Palace.”

“Pike’s is a stew of corruption,” Percival said.

“Got a plan for that?” Virgil said.

“We are guided by the Lord,” Percival said.

“Damn,” Virgil said. “Makes me kind of envious, seeing as how me and Everett are mostly on our own.”

“You are both welcome at services,” Percival said.

“Thank you,” Virgil said.

“Ours is a militant Christianity,” Percival said.

“Me and Everett are kinda militant ourselves,” Virgil said.

“But despite our militancy,” Percival said, “we are brothers to every Christian person.”

Virgil looked at me.

“We like that, Everett?” he said.

“Not always,” I said.

And we left.

WE WALKED BACK to the sheriff’s office past the railroad station. Six new cattle pens were nearly finished, and there was enough lumber stacked to suggest that there’d be more.

“Be a lot of drovers,” I said. “All loose and looking for trouble.”

Virgil grinned at me.

“Wait’ll they get a look at us,” he said.

I nodded.

“Wait’ll,” I said.

Morrissey had gone back to Del Rio. And the sheriff’s office was ours. There was a cell block behind the office, with four cells, none of them at the moment occupied. There was a desk, at which Virgil sat, and a couple of straight chairs, and an odd-looking bow-backed couch with some faded red pillows on it against the left wall. I sat on the couch.

“Choctaw Brown,” I said.

“Yep,” Virgil said. “Quick, likes shooting. I killed his partner back in Lambert, a long time ago. ’Fore I met you.”

“J.D.,” I said.

“J.D. Sisko,” Virgil said. “He can shoot.”

“So they both got one,” I said.

“One?” Virgil said. “They both got about twenty, way I see it.”

“You don’t think the deacons are godly?” I said.

“ ’Bout as godly as you,” Virgil said.

“How you know I ain’t godly,” I said.

“Are you?”

“No,” I said.

“That’s how I know,” Virgil said. “I happen to know one of the shooters on each side. I’m betting they ain’t the only ones.”

“Probably not,” I said.

Allie came into the office carrying an iron pot of something. She looked well-scrubbed and neat. There was some color in her cheeks now, and she seemed to have put on a few pounds.

“Brought you boys some lunch,” Allie said. “Just made it this morning.”

She put the pot on the desk, went to a cupboard on the right wall, took out a couple of tin plates and two spoons, and set them out beside the pot on Virgil’s desk.

“Can’t stay and eat with you,” she said. “I got some errands to run. I’ll come back in a while, though, and clean up.”

“Thank you,” Virgil said.

“That’s very kind of you, Allie,” I said. “No need to come back, though. We can clean up.”

“No,” she said. “Won’t hear of it. You got your job and I got mine. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

She smiled, blew us both a kiss, and went.

Virgil and I sampled the stew. It was bad. Virgil made a face as he swallowed.

“Jesus,” he said.

I tried a small sample.

“I see what you mean,” I said.

“You want any more?” he said.

“No,” I said.

Virgil picked up the pot and went to the door and looked out. Allie was not in sight. He went out and around to the back of the cell block and dumped the stew, and came back in with the empty pot.

“You gonna tell her we ate it all?” I said.

“Sure,” Virgil said.

“Won’t that encourage her to make more?” I said.

“I suppose,” Virgil said. “But at least we’ll know what to expect.”

I nodded.

“Otherwise, she might try something else,” I said.

“She ain’t gonna quit,” Virgil said.

“At least she’s trying,” I said.

“Might be better if she weren’t,” Virgil said. “She’s been washing and ironing my shirts. Now half of them got a burn mark, where she gets the iron too hot or leaves it in the same place too long.”

“She’ll learn,” I said.

“Maybe. Maybe I don’t even want her to. Maybe I liked her better when she was singing in saloons.”

“Except when you didn’t,” I said.

“Don’t need to be delicate with me, Everett,” Virgil said. “I didn’t like it when she was fucking the patrons.”

“Most folks wouldn’t,” I said.

“Why you suppose she was like that?” Virgil said.

I shook my head.

“Don’t know,” I said. “I’d guess she was scared. Been on her own most of her life, and the only way she had to… you know… get anything… get anyone to do anything was to pull up her skirt.”

“I suppose,” Virgil said. “But when she was with me?”

I shrugged.

“She was with you,” I said.

“And when I wasn’t around?” Virgil said.

“She was with somebody else. Somebody to take care of her.”

“Like Ring Shelton,” he said.

“Like Ring,” I said.

“Would you stay with her?” Virgil said.

“No,” I said. “Probably wouldn’t.”

“I ain’t touched her since I got her back,” Virgil said.

“Not ready?” I said.

“Not yet,” he said.

“Why do you hang on to her?” I said.

“Don’t know,” Virgil said.

“Never seen you,” I said, “not know what you needed to know.”