Роберт Паркер - Robert B. Parker's Revelation

“He does,” Virgil said.

We were silent for a moment as we thought about possibilities. “Wonder what else we ain’t figured on?”

“Been thinking that, too,” Virgil said. “Like Appaloosa.”

I nodded.

“Why Appaloosa?” I said.

“Hard to say.”

“It is,” I said. “Appaloosa is not necessarily a place you’d pick on the map unless you had some business there.”

“Or visiting someone,” Virgil said.

“Who?” I said.

Virgil shook his head.

“Rutledge?” I said.

“Might well be,” Virgil said.

“Got to be someone or some damn reason.”

“There is,” Virgil said.

“Or Driggs and the woman could be just passing through,” I said.

Virgil shook his head.

“That don’t seem right, though,” he said. “Giving the fact him and the warden’s wife is on the run.”

“Course they’re acting like they ain’t.”

“They are,” Virgil said. “Or so it seems.”

“Goddamn twisting past, present, and unclear future that has got Driggs to here,” I said.

“That’s a fact,” Virgil said.

“Right from the beginning. The things Driggs did on the battlefield, the killing, the unnecessary killing... Who the hell knows, maybe he was responsible for the demise of our CO’s wife way back when? Or better to the point, with all we know now, he damn sure most likely was. Hard to know what he did from that time on, when we were barely old enough to shave, up to the time he robs a fucking Spanish ship with a cache of money, gold, and jewelry. Gets himself shot up in the process. The other robbers get away. No one knows a damn thing about the money, gold, and jewelry. Gets locked up in Mexico, using the name Lonnigan, a fellow soldier who was lost in battle. For all I know Driggs maybe killed Lonnigan himself. Then he moved north to Cibola. Starts up spinning a web around the pretty warden’s wife. Then lets out a band of murderers, breaks down the communications, makes off with the warden’s money, guns, horses, and wife... Then... catches a goddamn train right back to the comforts of civilization.”

Virgil and I thought about all that as we listened to the sounds of the rain and the rushing river. Then Virgil spoke slowly and precisely as he stared off in the dark.

“Driggs is on some kind of a hell-bent jamboree, Everett.”

The last time Driggs had seen Uncle Dave was when they boarded the ship down in Mexico, and he was thankful he’d never have to see him again. And now, after killing Uncle Dave and Chastain, and then coming across the discovery in Margie’s room, he felt rage running through his veins. It’d been a while since he had the feeling like he wanted to kill more. He’d not felt that back at the prison when he killed the two guards before he released the other inmates. But now he felt different as he stood in the shadows of the Town Hall and watched Allie and Margie.

It was hard for him to tell exactly what they were doing. It appeared to him they were perhaps sewing and cutting fabric. He could not make out exactly what it was, but he didn’t really care. He was patient as he watched them. They were standing on opposite sides of a table toward the back of the shop, talking and laughing as they worked.

One thing Driggs could not understand but would get to the bottom of, one way or the other, was why Margie was working with Allie. Surely there was a better way to perform her duties than to cut and sew with Allie. Regardless, he was not about to let Margie or anyone else fuck up what he needed to do.

But as Driggs watched and waited it occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, Margie might be able to help him in some way. Maybe for the time being he could let her live. Not that he wanted to let her live. Not really. He was actually energized thinking about what he could do with her on her way out. Allie, too. Though Allie was outside of his bailiwick, of where he needed to focus his attention, he didn’t really care. The simple fact that he titillated her made him want to work her into even more of a frenzy. But Driggs let that notion go. He let it go and moved on.

The rain continued through the day and into the evening. The whole of the afternoon Driggs spent with the princess. She had never experienced anything like what he delivered up on this stormy day. She had no idea where it came from, but she appreciated it, very much.

After, they came down and enjoyed an early dinner. Then they sat in the hotel parlor watching the rain out the window as they drank some brandy. Driggs had been quiet during the afternoon of sex and throughout dinner.

“I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven,” she said.

Driggs looked from the window to her and smiled.

“You do?”

“I do,” she said.

“What makes you say that?”

“What do you think?”

“Tell me.”

“You’re an animal,” she said as she pointed her toe and stroked his foot with her foot under the table.

“What kind of animal am I?”

“A wolf,” she said with a smile.

“Wolves are carnivores,” he said.

“So are you.”

“You want me to eat you up?”

“You already have.”

He shook his head.

“Not yet.”

“No?”

“No,” he said.

Tilda walked by the table and Driggs stopped her, then looked to the princess.

“Anything else, dear?”

She smiled and shook her head.

“I’m fine.”

Driggs looked back to Tilda.

“I’ll have one more brandy, and could you bring me an envelope, paper, and pen from the front desk.”

“Most certainly,” Tilda said, then moved off.

“Are you writing a letter?” the princess said.

“A short one,” he said.

“What will it say?” she said with a smile.

“Just a few words,” he said.

“Pray tell?”

He paused before he spoke.

“I am the first and the last. I am the one that lives. I was dead but behold I am alive for evermore...”

She stared at him for a long moment, then smiled.

“Yes, you are.”

Driggs looked to the clock. It was eight and the chimes started.

“In fact, dear,” he said. “Once I make certain the note is delivered, I will see you back upstairs.”

“If I’m asleep,” she said, “wake me up.”

“You know I will.”

Tilda came back to the table with the pen, paper, and envelope. The princess started to move out of her chair, but Driggs, like the gentleman he was, quickly got out of his chair to assist her.

She looked up to him and he kissed her.

“I won’t be long,” he said.

He watched her as she walked up the stairs. When she got to the landing she turned and blew him a kiss, then continued up. Driggs wrote the note, sealed it in an envelope, and delivered it to the front desk.

He dinged the bell. After a moment a chubby night manager came through the small door behind the counter.

“Do you have someone that could deliver a message for me?”

“Why, yes,” the night manager said. “Where to?”

“The depot,” Driggs said. “The incoming westbound train. It arrives at eight-thirty and this note needs to be delivered to one of the passengers. They won’t be hard to find. They’ll be coming off the first-class Pullman.”