Роберт Паркер - Robert B. Parker’s Blackjack

“Fella you shot was a policeman,” Virgil said.

“He pulled and I shot him in self-defense.”

“Plenty of witnesses that will testify otherwise,” Virgil said, “so that will be for the judge to decide.”

“That’s bullshit,” Truitt said.

“It’s not,” Virgil said. “You also been helping a wanted man.”

Virgil glanced about the room a little.

“Where is he?” Virgil said.

“Who?”

“No reason to start acting like you are more of a dumbass than you are, Truitt,” Virgil said.

Truitt’s eyes narrowed.

“Who’s the dumbass?” Truitt said.

“What do you think, Everett?” Virgil said.

“I think the more you help us out, Truitt, the better your chances will be.”

“You been with him since you left Appaloosa, Truitt. You show some cooperation here, and I will be sure and let the judge know how helpful you were when we take you in.”

Truitt shook his head and looked around the room at his friends.

“Just two of you,” Truitt said.

“Oh, we have help,” Virgil said. “Wouldn’t undervalue your lack of sense or judgment.”

Truitt looked to the window and leaned a little, looking out the front door. He smiled, then looked around the room at his friends. His teeth were white and straight, and he had a charming, boyish smile. He looked back to Virgil and stopped smiling.

“This is my town, my people,” he said. “You really think the two of you can arrest me?”

“I don’t think.”

Truitt looked around the room at his friends again.

“I guess not,” Truitt said. “Guess you don’t think... Not a good idea coming in here, throwing claims around in front of my friends.”

“Speaking of friends, what’s the young fella’s name, Everett, that swore on his granny’s Bible we’d find Truitt here, at this cantina, Ricky what?”

“Ravenfield.”

“That’s right,” Virgil said. “Ricky Ravenfield.”

“He also said you got jumpy and shot the policeman,” I said.

Truitt stared at me.

“Ricky was not too happy you left him.”

“Fuck him,” Truitt said.

“No need,” Virgil said. “Ricky’s dead.”

Truitt stared at Virgil.

“Shot himself,” Virgil said.

“Bullshit.”

“Not,” Virgil said. “Before he did, though, he swore on his granny’s Bible you’d be here, and, well, sure enough, he was right.”

Truitt looked around the room at everyone looking at him, then looked to Virgil.

“You planning on taking on everybody in this room?”

“Not planning on taking on anybody, Truitt,” Virgil said. “But like I said, whether you go to hell or not is your call. You should just let the judge handle this, go from there.”

Sweat was beading up on Truitt’s face.

“So let’s get on with it, Truitt,” Virgil said.

A big, angular-looking man that was sitting next to Truitt got slowly out of his chair.

“You ain’t taking nobody nowhere,” the man said.

“You must be one of the two Ricky said he didn’t care for so much,” Virgil said.

“Fuck you and fuck Ricky,” the man said.

“You Walt or Douglas?” I said.

The man glanced at me, then looked back to Virgil.

“Truitt,” Virgil said. “Let’s not waste any more of my and Everett’s time.”

“Get on,” the big man said. “We got you outnumbered so you two better get the fuck on down the road or you’ll not live to talk about what will happen here if you don’t.”

Virgil took one step toward the big man.

“There is only one thing for certain, one very sure thing that will happen here tonight if you choose to pull on me,” Virgil said. “And that is you will be dead, no matter.”

A heavyset man to my right had been slowly inching his way more to my side the whole time we’d been in the room. I was watching him, just like Virgil had been watching him out of the corner of his eye. Virgil saw everything.

“Far enough,” Virgil said, without looking directly at the heavyset man.

The heavyset man scoffed a little, and because he was to our side he thought he had the speed, the snap. He reached, but Virgil shot him in the chest before he could get his revolver out.

The big man next to Truitt thought this was his chance, too. He moved fast, flipping the table in front of him, and pulled his revolver. But just as he went down behind the wooden tabletop, Virgil’s second shot hit him in the forehead and blood splattered across Truitt’s face.

“Goddamn,” Truitt said.

Truitt stood with his hands up a bit and away from his sides, making sure we didn’t suspect he was going to go for his sidearm.

Virgil stood steady, and for the moment the only thing in the room that moved was the lingering gun smoke.

Virgil nodded slightly.

“Anybody else?”

Nobody else dared to move.

“Where is he?” Virgil said.

“Hotel,” Truitt said, nodded in that direction. “Just across the square here.”

“Had to hear the shots,” I said.

We quickly disarmed Truitt, hustled him with us across the plaza to the hotel.

The hotel was a small two-story place with a narrow room on the first floor with a desk, a few dining tables, and a door to a back room.

A heavyset Mexican man was standing at the front window watching us, then looked over to us when we entered. He stared at us with a startled expression, then raised his arms a bit at the sight of my eight-gauge. He knew right away what we were doing there, even before Virgil showed his badge. He pointed out the rear door.

“He’s gone,” he said. “I come out when I heard the gunshots, and in a second he was down the steps here and gone.”

We moved quickly out the back side of the hotel and found nothing but a small empty corral with a feed shed and an open gate.

“Where to, Truitt?”

“How would I know?”

I grabbed a handful of Truitt’s collar and shoved him five full steps back until his head hit the adobe wall of the hotel.

“You remember Skinny Jack Newton don’t you?”

“What?”

I slapped him.

“You know him?”

“Newton? Fuck. Yeah, I know Skinny Jack. Not seen him, though, in years. Shit, why?”

I slammed his head again against the wall.

“He was shot and killed by Ricky Ravenfield is why.”

“What?”

I slammed him again.

“That’s right, Truitt, Ricky shot and killed him, and for that you are equally responsible.”

“Me?”

I slapped him hard a few times before Virgil got his hand on my shoulder and eased me back from Truitt.

Normally when push came to shove it was me that was the one who took the temper out of Virgil. The memory of Skinny Jack looking up at me as he took his last breath, however, was a memory that was not welcome, one I could not forget, and one that had left me boiling mad.

“Truitt,” Virgil said. “We been after you and Bill Black for a good while, you know that. And so far, besides the lawman you shot, you’ve got five men killed, so you better cooperate before we are forced to see you become the sixth.”

“I really don’t know where he went, or where he’s planning on going.”

“Bullshit,” I said.

He shook his head hard from side to side.

“I got no idea,” he said.

“You came here with intention,” Virgil said.

“Nothing other than I didn’t know where else to go.”

“And he just came with you?” Virgil said.

“He did.”

“Truitt,” Virgil said, “I’m gonna ask you a few simple questions and I want you to give me a few simple answers.”

He looked back and forth between us.

“How is it you was with Bill in the first place?”