Роберт Паркер - Robert B. Parker’s Blackjack

“Be all right for Daphne to stay here with you, Allie, until we get this settled, until she feels safe.”

“Why, of course,” Allie said.

“I’m so sorry, Allie,” Daphne said. “I hope this is not an inconvenience.”

“My God, are you serious? Come in this house this instant,” Allie said as she practically jerked Daphne over the threshold. “Of course it’s no inconvenience. What kind of silly comment is that? You poor, poor dear.”

When I followed Allie and Daphne into the house, Virgil was coming back up the hall, carrying his gun belt and boots.

I quickly explained to Virgil all I knew about the escape, which prompted Allie to expound.

“This is just awful,” she said. “How could Sheriff Chastain and his deputies let something like this happen?”

“They did nothing,” Virgil said.

“Letting the killers go is not nothing.”

“They got out, Allie, they escaped, you heard Everett,” Virgil said as he sat on the piano bench and put on one of his boots. “They were not let out.”

“It’s lackadaisical and unprofessional, to say the least.”

“Before you go accusing the sheriff’s department, Allie,” Virgil said as he pulled on his second boot, “why not let us sort this out and do our job.”

“Yes, Virgil,” she said politely. “I am not insensitive, I know you will protect us.”

Allie turned to Daphne.

“He will,” she said. “Everett, too. That’s what they do.”

Daphne smiled a weak smile and nodded a little.

“Regardless, it’s awful,” Allie said with a twist of her brow as if she had the need to snuff out her previous admonishments. “And now the whole town is unsafe.”

“Before, you were sure as all hell Boston Bill Black was innocent,” Virgil said as he got to his feet.

“That was before,” Allie said.

Virgil picked up his gun belt.

“Now you’re condemning the law enforcement as being just awful and leaving citizens unsafe.”

Virgil strapped on his gun belt.

“Well, that was before he was proven guilty, Virgil,” she said. “Now all I can think about is that there are murderers on the loose.”

“Well,” Virgil said as he pulled his Colt from his belt, checked the rounds, then snapped closed the loading gate. “Try not to think about it, Allie.”

Daphne lowered her head, stifling tears.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Allie said, pushing Daphne’s hair from her eyes. “I know how you feel.”

Allie sat her down on the sofa and held her hand, then looked up to Virgil.

“I feel just like Ms. Daphne here, Virgil,” Allie said, then looked back to Virgil. “And... thank you, Virgil.”

“For what?”

“Well... I think at times the unrest of my constitution adds up and sorts its way out as being ungrateful, but you need to know that is simply just not the case. This is just unnerving.”

“I know, Allie,” Virgil said as he put on his hat.

Allie looked to Daphne and smiled as she rubbed her hand between hers.

“It is going to be okay, Virgil and Everett know how to handle this.”

“Thank you,” Daphne said.

“We will do what we can,” Virgil said.

He kissed Allie on the cheek and walked out the door. I turned to follow...

“Everett?” Daphne said as she got to her feet and came close to me by the door. “I would feel just mortified if something were to happen to you.”

“Don’t think I would feel good about that proposition, either,” I said.

She reached up and pulled my head down to meet hers and kissed me.

“Oh, my,” Allie said softly, and almost to herself.

The early morning was quiet and the sun was slanting in through the openings of the buildings on 3rd Street as we walked to the sheriff’s office. The shafts of yellow light reflected off the storefront glass enough to make us keep our brims down. It was still early, not much was open, and the streets were sparse of folks moving about.

“Maybe it’s justice,” I said.

“Maybe not,” Virgil said.

We walked by in front of the hotel where the Coloradoans were staying. At the moment all was quiet and there was no one going in or coming out.

“Don’t imagine the Denver contingent will be too happy,” I said as we passed the hotel.

“No,” Virgil said glancing at the hotel’s front door. “I don’t, either.”

When we passed, Virgil looked back a little.

“Saw them earlier,” Virgil said with a shake of his head.

“Like they’re waiting around for rut or harvest,” I said.

“’Fraid the yield’s not so good,” Virgil said.

“Currently,” I said.

“I had a brief visit with the chief,” Virgil said.

“And?”

“He’s an unfriendly hombre,” Virgil said. “Remembered him, too.”

“Did?”

“Yep.”

“Where?”

“Long time ago. He was a young Otero County sheriff. I remembered him for certain. He was with a group of others up on the Purgatoire River, up by Bent’s last place,” Virgil said. “Forever ago now. I was passing through when brouhaha happened there. Him and the others found a young black kid they’d been chasing.”

When we came to the end of the street we saw one of Chastain’s deputies. Luce, a stout-looking fellow with a thick mustache that draped down to the bottom of his chin. He was standing back off the street, holding his rifle across his beer gut and smoking a cigarette. He dropped it and crushed it under his foot when he saw us crossing the street.

“Seen anything, Luce?” I said.

“No, sir,” he said. “Nothing. I been right here so I can see both directions leading off.”

“Okay,” I said. “Just stay alert and alive.”

“Yes, sir,” he said.

We walked on a ways and Virgil continued.

“They strung up the black kid, they claimed he had stolen a horse. He was just a boy. Messenger was... hell, real young then, that’s why I didn’t recognize him, really. Don’t think he recognized me, either, but I remember the name, ’cause the kid was begging not to die, pleading, Mr. Messenger, please, I didn’t do it... That I remember.”

“Well, hell,” I said. “Guess he’s got a soft spot in his heart for hanging.”

Virgil didn’t say anything.

When we got to the sheriff’s office, Chastain and Book led us into the cell room to have a look at Black’s escape wreckage as they informed us on what was taking place.

“We got everybody out looking,” Chastain said.

“When I got here and found out they were gone,” Book said. “I got everybody moving right away.”

“Like you told Book, we got someone on lookout at every road trail leading out of town,” Chastain said.

“What time was that?” Virgil said.

“’Bout five or so,” Book said.

“If the sumbitches ain’t already gone from Appaloosa, they won’t get gone,” Chastain said. “Not this time.”

“We even sent four men down to the ford,” Book said. “In case they had that on their mind again.”

Chastain walked into Black’s cell.

“Can’t believe this shit?” Chastain said, shaking his head and looking at Black’s cell window that was missing its bars. “That’s what we goddamn get for having strong damn bedrails.”

He picked up one of the bars that had been removed from the window.

“Look at this shit,” Chastain said. “He’s a big strong sumbitch, I will give him that. He managed to work those bed railings free that were bolted to the goddamn floor. Then he used them to pry the bars inside the window.”

“That opening was tight for him, too,” Book said. “Hard to see how he got his big frame through there.”

“Well, he damn sure did. Then he got goddamn Truitt out,” Chastain said, pointing to the window in Truitt’s cell. “He got out and then he pried those damn bars there from the outside.”