Роберт Паркер - The Bridge

“You gonna go?” Eddie said.

“We are,” Virgil said.

“Okay I go?” Eddie said.

Virgil looked to me.

I nodded.

Virgil looked to Swickey.

Swickey looked to Eddie, then Virgil, and nodded.

“What would you like for me to do, Marshal Cole?” Swickey said.

“The best we can hope for,” Virgil said, “is we capture one of these mutts and get to the bottom of who paid them to do what they did. If for some reason that don’t play out for us in that fashion, you could let me know the names of outfits that you feel might be behind this.”

“Already have,” Swickey said.

Swickey pulled out a piece of paper from his vest pocket and handed it to Virgil.

Virgil looked at the paper. He read it and handed it to me.

“Good enough,” Virgil said.

“When will you go to the brakes?” Swickey said.

“Now,” Virgil said.

“And Eddie?” Swickey said.

Virgil looked to Eddie.

“You think you got the stomach for this?” Virgil said.

“I don’t got the stomach not to,” Eddie said.

Virgil nodded and stood up. He walked to the side door and looked out. He stepped outside.

“Skinny Jack,” Virgil called out. “Come here.”

Virgil walked back into the room and looked at everyone looking at him.

“Here we go,” Virgil said.

We left Swickey and his other hands at the Boston House and made our way back to the front of the sheriff’s office, where we met with Chastain and readied ourselves to ride.

“What if they ain’t there?” Chastain said.

“Then they ain’t there,” Virgil said.

“If they are there,” Chastain said, “you think they will all be there? Still be together?”

Virgil looked to me.

“Good chance,” I said.

“Is,” Virgil said.

“Like a pack of dogs,” I said.

“Think Ballard will still be among ’em?” Chastain said.

“We do,” I said.

“He’s come this far with them,” Virgil said. “And going by what we know of him he could very well be the goddamn stallion of the herd by now.”

“Don’t figure they’ll still be dressed in no blues,” Chastain said. “Do you think?”

Virgil looked to me.

“Don’t think so,” I said.

“Wouldn’t be very fitting to wear a Union uniform in a holdout camp,” Virgil said.

“Never know, though,” I said.

Virgil nodded.

“They might,” he said.

“Might all think it a goddamn funny novelty,” I said.

“Well, let’s say they don’t,” Chastain said. “And like you, I doubt they’d still be tramping around in uniforms, so how the hell will we know these men?”

Virgil pointed to Eddie.

“Eddie knows the faces of the two of them,” Virgil said. “The Cotters.”

Eddie nodded.

“I damn sure do,” he said.

“I know one of them,” I said. “When I saw them ride by Hal’s on their way into town. I won’t forget that face. Not ever. I suspect he was one of the Cotters.”

“And Ballard’s a cock hound,” Virgil said. “Tall, handsome man, longhorn mustache. Got a good idea we’ll know him.”

I nodded.

“They all had Union saddles,” I said. “McClellans. They didn’t bother to take our men’s saddles when they killed their horses, so unless they had some other saddles someplace or bought some saddles, we’ll have that to look for.”

“That leaves four more,” Chastain said. “How will we know them?”

“Don’t suppose we’ll know,” Virgil said. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find that Ballard and the Cotters strung them up like the others they’ve left in their wake.”

We left Skinny Jack and Book to keep the peace in Appaloosa and the four of us, Virgil, Chastain, Eddie, and me, rode out of the city just before eleven o’clock, and headed for the Yaqui Brakes.

The snow had stopped falling and the clouds looked to be separating some, but the roads were snow-covered and the ride was slow going.

The brakes were a good five miles of high, thick brush with passages through them that led to a central camp where the tents were pitched next to the creek.

There were other holdout camps like the Yaqui Brakes, and this one was not unlike the others we’d seen. Holdout camps consisted of mostly nonconforming southern miscreants and rabble-rousers who thought the war was still going on, or at least thought it should be going on. They were uncomfortable being around anyone who wasn’t as crossways as they were or thought the way they thought.

The bad news about the Yaqui Brakes was there were at least ten ways in and ten ways out.

As we neared the brakes the snow was not as deep as it was back in the Appaloosa direction, and the riding became increasingly easier.

Late in the afternoon, when we came upon a low section of land where the rail and the road next to the rail turned to the west, I stopped and looked back to the others trailing behind me.

“This is it,” I said, pointing to the lowland to our left.

Virgil nodded and looked around.

“It is,” Virgil said.

“How far, in there?” Chastain said.

“Five miles, maybe,” I said.

“How do you want to go about this?” Chastain said.

“Want to wait till dark,” Virgil said.

“It’s damn near dark now,” I said.

“It is,” Virgil said.

“We go in the dark and see them,” Chastain said, “in their camp light and they don’t see us?”

“That’d be the idea,” Virgil said.

“It’s a long walk in there,” I said, “but that’s the only way, I’d say. Don’t you think, Virgil?”

“I do,” Virgil said.

“So we go in on foot?” Chastain said.

“We do,” Virgil said. “Taking horses in there would be like wearing cowbells.”

We rode down into the low section and followed the rail for a while until we came to a truss bridge where the rails crossed over a wash.

It was damn near dark when we dismounted under the bridge and got our horses secured and readied our weapons.

“How we gonna go about taking out hornets and not disrupting the whole nest?” Chastain said.

“Holdouts for the most part are blowhards,” Virgil said.

“They are,” I said.

“Yep,” Virgil said. “That’s why they bunch together like they do.”

“You don’t think they’ll have bigger balls the more they are?” Chastain said.

“There is no way of knowing for sure just how this will go down,” Virgil said. “But they will not know how many we are.”

Chastain nodded and pulled his carbine from its scabbard.

“If the situation calls for it,” Virgil said, “we’ll let them all know they are surrounded.”

“What situation would that be?” Chastain said.

“Don’t know all the particulars,” Virgil said. “I suspect we’ll know if and when that sort of declaration needs to be made.”

“Weather’s in our favor,” I said.

“It is,” Virgil said.

Chastain nodded.

“Not exactly the kind of weather for lying on a blanket and watching the stars,” Chastain said.

“Not,” Virgil said. “The lot will be hunkered inside where it’s warm.”

Chastain cocked his carbine.

“We go?” Chastain said.

“We do,” Virgil said.

“What do you want me to do?” Eddie said to Virgil.

“Keep that Winchester at ready,” Virgil said. “We’ll all move together, slowly, quietly. When we get close we’ll see what we can see and we’ll go from there.”

We made certain before it was too dark that we found an entrance into the brakes. We followed the path down toward the creek and in no time it was so dark we couldn’t see a foot in front of our face. We relied on the brush on either side of the path to guide us as we moved through the darkness.