Роберт Паркер - The Bridge

I followed Virgil and Chastain as they backed out quickly from the smoke-filled tent.

“Got one,” Eddie said, pointing to a man on the ground next to the tent, writhing in pain. “They came out the back. The other is running off that way, in the creek.”

“Stay right here,” Virgil said to Chastain. “Shoot anybody else who needs it.”

I’d already reloaded as I moved toward the creek.

“I’ll take the creek, Virgil,” I said. “You take the road.”

Virgil was moving.

I pointed my eight-gauge at the man on the ground next to the tent. I could tell right away this was the bearded man I saw riding into town. This was Dirk, Dirk the cold-blooded murderer Cotter. He looked up at me.

Those were the eyes, the eyes I remembered: the murdering eyes. He was fully dressed. He’d been shot in the back and he was clutching his gut where the bullet exited. There was a rifle just out of his reach he’d obviously dropped when Eddie shot him. I grabbed it and slung it back toward Eddie. I thought as I moved off down into the creek bottom, How fitting. How fitting that both Dee and Dirk were shot by Eddie.

Just as I heard the water splashing under my feet, I heard a shot and saw ahead of me the flash of a muzzle as the bullet hit me.

I felt my legs give out. I fell back and dropped into the icy creek. Then all I could hear was the cold water rushing past my ears. I could see the stars above me.

I thought about Séraphine, beautiful, mysterious Séraphine. I thought about being in her arms. I thought about her long, slender legs and her dark, silky hair. I thought about touching her, touching her soft porcelain skin. I thought about her eyes, her beautiful blue eyes looking at me.

I remembered her intoxicating smell. I remembered. I remembered. I remembered. I smiled thinking, Cotter, men running, and water, water, water. I remembered. I remembered...

There’s Orion’s Belt just there, I thought. It is, that’s Orion’s Belt.

Thunder rumbled. Dark clouds turned and twisted. Currents of stiff wind pushed and challenged strong trees to stay rooted, and jagged lightning cracked across the sullen sky.

Embers skittered violently from a waning fire and the horses whinnied loudly. They were restless, anxious, and frightened. Was it just the weather that had them spooked or was it something else out there in the dark that was causing them agony?

Then from inside the dark and ominous rolling clouds I saw a shimmering light, a dim shimmering spot of light on the horizon. It was coming closer and closer. The spot flickered as it got bigger. Then it came like a tornado, clearing the darkness, and suddenly it was bright.

It was a lantern, a ceiling lantern. I stared at it for a long moment, then looked slowly to my right.

Sun streamed through the thin lace curtains. There was an opening in the curtains and I could see glistening water dripping from the eaves.

I looked around the white spartan-styled room.

It was stark and sanitary, but it was warm. Above my head on the wall behind the bed was a small wooden cross. To my right, just beyond the window, was a framed printed painting of Jesus. He wasn’t looking at me. He was looking to his right toward the window, toward the light. On the stand just left of the iron-framed bed I was lying on was an ivory-colored water pitcher and a single glass. I looked back out the window, watching the water dripping and the steam that was rising from it. I looked back to Jesus. Least I made it to a hospital.

“Bonjour,” she said.

I looked to my left toward the foot of the bed. There she was, Séraphine, standing in the doorway.

“Look who’s here,” I said.

She smiled.

“ Bonjour back,” I said.

“Feeling better, I see,” she said.

“Oui,” I said.

She smiled and moved a little closer into the room.

“For some damn reason, I’m drifting in and out of sleep,” I said.

“Need your rest,” she said.

“Damn doc’s keeping me drifting,” I said. “Opiates.”

“Morpheus,” she said.

“The dreams and here,” I said, “mix.”

“I’m here,” she said.

“Yes, you are,” I said. “I can see that.”

She looked radiant in her long, pale blue dress. She slowly moved toward me.

“Matches your eyes,” I said.

She stepped close to the bed. She reached out and gently with her fingers touched the bandage around my chest.

“It’s good your heart is not on this side,” she said.

“What heart?” I said with a grin.

“A beautiful heart,” she said.

She leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m awake.”

She smiled.

“I’m not dreaming,” I said.

“I’m right here,” she said.

“Yes,” I said.

She moved a lock of hair that was hanging down in front of my eye.

“Time for a haircut,” I said.

She just looked at me and smiled warmly.

“I’ll be up soon,” I said. “Think I’m close to being ready.”

She smiled but didn’t say anything.

I looked to the window.

“Warming,” I said.

She followed my look to the window.

“Oui,” she said softly.

“That weather came on harsh,” I said.

“Oui,” she said.

“Thought March was the lion,” I said.

“Roared early,” she said.

“Damn sure did,” I said.

“It will make for a better spring,” she said.

“It will,” I said.

She took my hand and just looked at me.

“Are they setting up now,” I said, “readying the show?”

“Preparations are under way,” she said.

I laid back and looked to the ceiling. The lantern looked foggy and dim.

“Futures told,” I said.

“Oui,” she said. “Legendary adventures revealed.”

It was Ballard who’d shot me, and it was Virgil who’d shot Ballard. His bullet hit Ballard in the temple and killed him instantly. By the time Virgil and Chastain got me out of the icy water, Dirk had died, too. The two men I’d shot with my eight-gauge inside the tent, Leonard and Ray, were both members of the gang, so there was no one left to provide any details other than Dmitry and Big Billy. They were the only two of the outlaws to survive the shoot-out at Yaqui Brakes.

“We’ve interrogated the goddamn living hell out of them,” Chastain said.

Virgil nodded. He was standing with his back to me as he looked out the window next to the painting of Jesus.

Chastain was sitting in a chair next to the door.

“They don’t know anything else?” I said.

“Other than Dmitry and Big Billy providing details about Ray and Leonard being the fellas that did the work,” Chastain said, “they don’t know shit.”

Virgil turned from the window.

“They don’t,” he said.

“Couple of dumbasses,” Chastain said.

“They signed on,” Virgil said, “thought they’d make some good money.”

“Little did they know,” Chastain said.

“Don’t think they knew what they were getting into until it was too late,” Virgil said.

“Yep,” Chastain said. “They was scared as hell of both Dirk and Ballard.”

“Dee, too,” Virgil said.

Chastain nodded.

“Said they wanted to back out,” Chastain said. “But they were scared they’d kill them.”

“Most likely right?” Virgil said.

“How about the telegram we sent to the governor’s office?” I said. “Any word back regarding the financials and whatnot?”

Virgil shook his head a little.

“Only that someone would report from the office as soon as the weather permitted,” Virgil said.