Роберт Паркер - Robert B. Parker’s Blackjack

“Let us help you.”

“How are you going to do that?”

Virgil moved a little toward him.

“Just give me the gun.”

Black quickly pointed the gun at Virgil.

“Back!” he said.

Allie and Daphne jumped.

“Easy,” Virgil said. “Just be easy.”

“Back,” he said.

“Okay,” Virgil said.

Virgil moved back a bit.

“Bill,” Daphne said. “Don’t do this. Be reasonable.”

“Reasonable? I should have married you when I had the chance,” he said. “I fucked up.”

“Give him the gun, Bill,” she said. “Don’t do this.”

Virgil nodded and reached out a little.

“Just stay the fuck back.”

“You’re drunk,” Virgil said. “You’re not thinking clearly.”

“The hell you say.”

“Let’s go about this another way,” Virgil said.

“I want the goddamn truth to be told.”

“Okay,” Virgil said. “Good.”

Black’s words were slurry. He was bleary-eyed and drunk tired.

“That fucker lied.”

“Okay,” Virgil said

Black started to cry. He looked down a little.

Virgil moved slightly but Black raised the gun up.

“Goddamn it,” he said.

Virgil backed away with his hands up and clear from his sides.

“Okay, okay, let’s just settle down here... settle down...” Virgil said.

After a moment Black seemed to relax a little.

“That’s it,” Virgil said. “Okay... okay... so... where is Truitt?”

“Oh, good,” he said.

“Good?”

“You did not catch him? He got out,” he said. “Got away, I’m fucking glad of that. I was uncertain. I hope he can keep running and never get caught. Me on the other hand, I have no intention of running. I only got out to prove I did not do this.”

Black’s head lowered, and when it did Daphne threw the pillow she had clutched to her chest at him and Virgil charged on him fast and grabbed the gun. Virgil’s force knocked Black from the chair, and as the two men fell the gun went off. Allie screamed as the flash kicked from the barrel out into the dark room. The noise was deafening.

It was not Sunday, but church bells sounded out across Appaloosa. Fact was, it was Friday, the day before the July Fourth grand opening of the Maison de Daphne casino.

The bells were not for celebration, however; they were nothing other than the respectful reminder that it was execution day for Boston Bill Black, a common solemn announcement for prayer and remembrance.

Black was back behind bars, awaiting execution. There was one good cell remaining in the jail and it was now, for obvious reasons, minus the bed frame.

But Black was resolved now. He had remained quiet after the incident at Virgil and Allie’s. He was now a man riddled with shame and remorse, and he had no fight.

The shot he fired hit Daphne, and though it was not fatal, it was serious enough for her to require surgery and bed rest for recovery. The bullet hit her just under her arm, where it remained until Doc Burris operated to remove it.

After the incident at Virgil’s home with Black, Virgil was convinced more than ever of Black’s innocence. He wanted to have Callison reopen the case and reevaluate the findings against Black, but the judge would have none of it. Especially now that Black had escaped and shot Daphne. Virgil explained to Callison the shot that hit Daphne was accidental and not intentional, but Virgil’s offering fell on deaf ears and Callison closed the book.

So the long and sordid ordeal was nearly over, and as Valentine had said, the sick idea of having the execution on July 3 remained a constant.

It was a beautiful day. The air was crisp and it had cooled off some since the rain. I listened to the bells as they rang and rang while I walked to the hospital.

When I entered I saw Buck at the end of the hall pushing a broom. He stopped and looked to me as the bells continued to ring. He stood there, then nodded a little as if he were saying hello, then he went back to sweeping.

Allie was sitting next to Daphne’s bed with Hollis Pritchard when I entered the hospital room.

“Everett,” Allie said.

Daphne turned, looking to me.

“Oh, Everett,” Daphne said as she held out her hand. “The bells?”

“I know,” I said.

“So sad,” she said as tears welled up in her eyes.

“Oh,” Allie said, dabbing a tear from her eye with a handkerchief, “Must they, Everett?”

“Be over soon enough,” I said.

“I have to say,” Daphne said, “I’m thankful I am not out today, on the street. I don’t think I could take it.”

We listened while the bells tolled. The sound echoed hauntingly throughout the hospital. After a moment they stopped and we were all silent.

Then Pritchard said, “Doc Burris said you can get out tomorrow.”

“Yes,” she said. “The opening...”

“Forget that,” he said. “This timing is...”

“I know,” she said.

“You just rest,” he said.

“The doctor said I could briefly attend,” she said.

Pritchard shook his head.

“No,” he said. “Not necessary.”

“But it’s my namesake,” she said.

“Clearly enough,” he said, “and if I did not need to be there I would not. This is not a time for celebration... I know I don’t want it. It’s most unfortunate.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Pritchard, I just...”

He shook his head and got to his feet. He walked closer to the bed.

“My God, dear, there is nothing to be sorry about,” he said, shaking his head. “This is all just awful.”

“I know...” she said.

“I would postpone this, but there is too much in motion now,” he said.

He leaned in and kissed her forehead.

“I will see you tomorrow at some point.”

“Okay,” she said.

He smiled at Allie and me, then walked out of the room. She watched after him for a moment, then looked to me.

“I’m so glad you are here,” she said.

“Me, too.”

“She looks simply beautiful,” Allie said, “don’t you think, Everett?”

“I do.”

“Oh, please,” she said. “I don’t know what I would have done if it weren’t for the both of you.”

She looked to me and smiled weakly.

“So, when is this going to happen, Everett?”

I looked at my watch.

“About an hour from now.”

She nodded, then looked away, out the window.

Thirty minutes prior to the hanging, Virgil and I walked to the gallows, and when we rounded the corner it appeared the whole town was waiting to witness the hanging of Boston Bill Black.

“Good goddamn,” Virgil said. “Don’t these folks have something better to do than to watch a man die?”

“Guess not.”

We walked past the Gallows Door Cantina and Eloise looked up and offered a wave just like the one she gave me in my dream, but this was no dream, not this time, this time it was real and it was happening.

The Gallows Door Cantina was crowded with happy and upbeat beer drinkers. It was a celebration for people to gather for a hanging. Hangings had become as much a spectator event as horse racing and boxing.

When we got close, we could see the Denver contingent standing near the gallows.

“Looks like the Coloradoans got here good and early so they had a good spot,” I said.

“Does,” Virgil said shaking his head.

Sitting in a covered buggy on a rise just behind the gallows was Judge Callison. He was sitting back under the buggy’s shade, smoking a cigar.

Atop the gallows stood the executioner and the two main Appaloosa ministers, one from the Methodist church and the other from the Baptist church.

Virgil and I walked around the crowd and moved up the rise and stood near the judge.