Текст книги "Robert B. Parker's The Bridge"

Автор книги: Robert Knott

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

— 48 —

I shared Séraphine’s note with Virgil when we left Belle and the Back Door whoring establishment.

“By God,” is all Virgil said.

“Yep,” I said.

Virgil just shook his head a little as we walked.

I didn’t say anything as we trudged through the snow-covered street, back down into town.

Virgil didn’t say anything else, either, not for a while, anyway, as he thought about the single word Séraphine left me with.

Then he said, “Slaughterhouse.”

I nodded.

“Beats hell,” he said.

“Does,” I said.

We walked for a bit more without saying anything.

“What do you figure?” I said.

We walked for a bit more.

“Well, given the fact this hocus-pocus fortune-teller lady friend of yours has provided us some pertinent information in regard to the goddamn bridge business we’re dealing with,” Virgil said. “Pertinent information that has come to light, regardless of how she got it, it might be a good idea we pay heed to this, Everett.”

“That’d be my thinking, too,” I said.

“As much as I don’t like it,” Virgil said.

“I know.”

“Don’t got much more,” Virgil said.

“We don’t,” I said.

Virgil and I made our way back to the livery where we stabled our horses.

Salt was feeding the animals when we entered. He looked up at us when we walked in but said nothing as he went about his business.

By the time Virgil and I got our horses saddled Salt came over to us.

He watched us but said nothing.

“How much more of this shit are we going to see, Salt?” I said. “Got to give up sometime soon.”

Salt looked out the open door of the barn and shook his head a little, then looked back to us.

“Pigs are still gathering sticks,” Salt said.

Virgil looked at Salt.

Salt nodded a little, then turned and walked into the livery office.

Virgil and I mounted up and rode out of the livery and headed south.

It was cold. The temperature had dropped even more and it was foggy out.

It wasn’t snowing, but the powder was deep as we moved slowly through the fog.

The road south of Appaloosa cut through solid forest of aspen, spruce, and fir.

In the spring the sides of the road were nothing but riparian, chaparrals, and prickly poppy, but now everything was a powerful and foreboding sea of white.

Just as we did when we made the journey to the bridge with Cox, we rode the same path by the depot, crossed over the covered tracks, past the last few Appaloosa homesteads on the road, past the icehouse and the stockyards.

The landscape seemed like it was from another place in time. The fog hung heavy some twenty feet above the ground, making the woods feel like there was something in the forest waiting, something lurking and unsatisfied.

The only sound was that of our horses, the chomp-clink of bit metal, the leather creak of our saddles, and the breathing of our animals under us, as they moved us forward into what felt like a prehistoric place, void of civilization.

From someplace secluded in the woods a phantom great gray owl hooted his ominous call.

We came to a stop on the road next to the old abandoned slaughterhouse.

The slaughterhouse was a long, low-built post-and-lintel building that was no longer in use since the bigger, newer version had been built to handle the growing cattle business.

The snow-covered slaughterhouse had loading docks on one end and dilapidated corrals and chutes on the other.

We dismounted and tied our horses to a pair of fir saplings near the road and walked through the deep snow toward the building.

The snow was piled high around the structure, and there had been no sign of tracks other than those of deer and rabbits.

When we got to the door of the slaughterhouse we cleared the snow back so we could open the door.

Virgil pulled his Colt and I did the same. Virgil stepped back to one side of the door and I got to the other. Virgil nodded and I opened the door. Instantly we were hit with the smell of death. We waited for a moment, then Virgil peeked inside. He leaned back and looked to me, shaking his head.

“Goddamn, Everett,” he said.

— 49 —

Dim shafts of light shined sideways through missing pieces of siding on the backside of the slaughterhouse.

The light revealed three hanging bodies.

They were clearly the bodies of Sheriff Sledge Driskill and his deputies Chip Childers and Karl Worley.

They were hanging side by side on meat hooks that had been gouged into the men, high on their backsides. Their shoulders and heads slumped forward and their hands were tied behind their backs.

“Oh, hell,” I said slowly. “. . . Oh, hell, Virgil.”

Virgil shook his head slowly.

Lying dead on the floor of the slaughterhouse were two mules and the lawman’s three horses. The buckboard sat behind the hanging men and the dead animals at the opposite end of the structure.

The horses and mules had been killed, their throats slashed.

The whole scene was as gruesome as any aftermath of attacks I had witnessed in my days fighting in the Indian Wars.

I went to the opposite end of the building and tried to open the barn doors so to clear the air from the stench, but they wouldn’t budge because of the snow.

I kicked out enough slats on the side so I could crawl through the opening. When I got out I used one of the slats as a shovel and went about clearing the snow from in front of the door. I worked at it awhile and eventually Virgil came out through the opening. He picked up a slat and we both worked at clearing the snow.

“Sonsabitches,” I said.

Virgil didn’t say anything for a moment as he moved snow with the board, then he said under his breath and almost to himself, “Bad hombres, Everett.”

“One thing to blow up a goddamn bridge and get paid for it,” I said. “But this is, this is, I don’t know, it’s . . .”

Virgil didn’t say anything, he just dug and scraped snow.

We kept at it until we got the snow cleared and the doors could open freely.

When we opened the barn doors we could see clothing lying inside the bed of the buckboard.

“Their discarded stuff,” I said.

Virgil nodded.

“Left when they donned the goddamn blues,” Virgil said.

Virgil picked up one of the pieces of clothing. A vest. He shook his head a little and dropped it.

We wasted no time getting the men down from the meat hooks and into the bed of the buckboard.

I thought about the face of the man with the beard I saw riding through town. I remembered his eyes. I thought about the fact he looked at me sitting by the window of Hal’s Café and gave me a slight wave as the men behind followed him, riding through the street.

I remembered talking with Hal about the look they had, and now, after seeing this brutal and evil dirty work, I knew why they looked the way they did. They had just done this deed. I added up the timing in my mind. When Driskill and his men left, and the timing when I witnessed the men ride by in front of Hal’s.

“When I saw the bastards riding through, it was about noon,” I said.

Virgil thought about that as we laid the body of young Chip in the bed of the buckboard.

“They stayed here through the night,” Virgil said, “looking about the slaughterhouse.”

“And took their damn time.”

“They did,” Virgil said.

Virgil and I covered the men with our slickers. We got our horses and hitched them to the buckboard. Then we drove the buckboard slowly back on the foggy road to Appaloosa.

When we arrived back in Appaloosa, we drove around the outside of town so not to draw attention. We cut through the alleys and stopped in behind the office of the undertaker.

I went through the back door and got the old undertaker, Joshua Ramos, and brought him out to the alley.

Ramos was a large, jovial man, always dressed in a tattered black suit and never without an unlit cigar wedged into the corner of his mouth.

“Hey, Virgil,” Joshua said.

“Joshua,” Virgil said.

When Joshua and I were close to the buckboard, Virgil pulled the slickers covering the dead men.

Joshua opened his mouth and his cigar dropped in the snow.

“Holy hell,” Joshua said. “That’s Sheriff Driskill?”

“It is,” Virgil said.

“And his deputies,” I said.

“Holy hell,” Joshua said.

“Don’t let no one know about this,” Virgil said.

“I won’t,” Joshua said, shaking his head. “I most certainly won’t.”

“Want to notify the next of kin,” Virgil said. “Post a town hall notice and let the mayor of Appaloosa make the proper announcement to the community.”

— 50 —

Virgil and I got the clothes from the back of the buckboard and stuffed them into a gunnysack.

“Since it’s freezing cold like it is,” Joshua said, “it’d be best we put the bodies in here.”

Joshua opened a shed connected to the back of his office.

Virgil and I put the bodies of the lawmen side by side on the floor.

“You want me to get them ready to be buried right away, I reckon?” Joshua said.

“I do,” Virgil said.

“I got one box built for Old Bill Gibbons, but he ain’t dead just yet, so I can use that one,” Joshua said. “Just have to build two more.”

“Get ’er done,” Virgil said.

“Will do,” Joshua said.

“With the weather like it is,” Joshua said. “Be hard as hell to dig a hole in this ground.”

“Hard ground or not,” Virgil said. “Need to get it started. Get some men to the cemetery with some pickaxes. Pay ’em, I’ll cover it.”

“You want me to put them side by side?” Joshua said.

Virgil looked at me.

I nodded.

We left Joshua and drove the buckboard to the open yard behind the Appaloosa Livery and unhitched our animals.

Salt came out to meet us. He took our horses and walked them into the barn.

Salt watched Virgil and me as we removed our saddles from the buckboard and walked to the barn. He could tell something was up, something different. but he didn’t say anything and neither did we.

I took the gunnysack full of the clothes discarded by the killers with me as Virgil and I left the livery barn and started walking toward the sheriff’s office.

We walked the three blocks without saying anything. The fact of the matter was we’d hardly talked at all, all the way back to Appaloosa from the slaughterhouse.

We crossed the street to the opposite boardwalk and as we neared the office we saw Book coming up the boardwalk from the opposite direction.

He saw us, waved to us, and hurried his pace toward us.

“Not real interested in this,” I said. “Talking to them.”

“No,” Virgil said. “I know.”

“These boys are gonna take this hard.”

“They will.”

“Driskill was like a father to them,” I said.

“He was,” Virgil said.

Book kept moving toward us.

“Boys to men, today,” Virgil said.

“It is,” I said.

“Hey,” Book said, as he got closer to us. “Got some good news.”

“What’s that, Book?” I said.

We met directly in front of the sheriff’s office door.

“Found the whereabouts of the cattleman you’re searching for,” Book said. “Chastain told me to find you. I have been looking all over for you. Wanted to let you know right away.”

Chastain opened the door. Skinny Jack was right behind him.

Chastain had heard us.

“That’s right,” Chastain said. “You were right, Swickey runs a big spread across the Rio Blanco.”

Virgil kicked his boots against the jamb a bit and walked into the office. I did the same and followed Virgil inside. Book followed me and I shut the door behind him.

The door between the office and cells was closed.

“Got a direction on him?” Virgil said.

Chastain nodded.

“Know where to find him,” Chastain said.

Virgil nodded.

“Good,” Virgil said.

“Got a wire back from the Territorial Cattlemen’s Association,” Chastain said.

“Where is he?” Virgil said.

“Like you said, he’s on the Blanco near Loblolly Mills,” Chastain said.

“Loblolly,” Virgil said. “That’s just due east of here.”

“It is, fifty, sixty miles. I didn’t want to start inquiring any more than we done,” Chastain said. “I didn’t contact no one in Loblolly. I don’t want to let him know we’re looking for him.”

Virgil nodded.

“What do you want to do?” Chastain said.

“Sit down,” Virgil said.

“What?” Chastain said.

“The three of you sit down,” Virgil said.

Chastain looked to Book and Skinny Jack and nodded to the chairs. Chastain sat behind the desk; Skinny Jack and Book sat opposite him.

Virgil walked the length of the room and when he got to the rear wall he turned to face the men.

They were looking at him, expectant.

Virgil walked slowly over to the desk. He put his hand in his pocket and one by one pulled out and placed the badges of Sheriff Driskill, Deputy Karl Worley, and Deputy Chip Childers on the desk in front of them.

— 51 —

When we entered Virgil and Allie’s place, Allie and Nell Beauchamp were sitting side by side on the sofa near the fireplace. They were drinking tea. There was a bottle of Kentucky next to the tea tray that suggested the tea was most likely unsatisfying.

“Oh, good,” Allie said, as she got to her feet. “Virgil, Everett, I believe you two have met Mrs. Beauchamp?”

“We have,” Virgil said.

“Evening, Mrs. Beauchamp,” I said.

She smiled. She remained seated on the feather sofa. Her legs were crossed under her expensive-looking dress and she leaned her body to one side, making her right hip slightly raised from the sofa. Her left elbow rested on the arm of the sofa with her forearm angled up, allowing her head to rest in the palm of her hand. Her right arm was outstretched over the curved back of the sofa. With the exception of having her clothes on, her position reminded me a nudie pose from a backroom stereopticon show.

“Nell, please,” she said. “No need for formality.”

“Nell,” I said. “Good to see you again.”

“It is,” Virgil said.

“Good to see you again, too,” she said.

Nell didn’t move a muscle from her pose on the sofa as Virgil and I hung our coats and hats next to the door.

“So glad you are back,” Allie said. “I waited to start supper. I never know if and when they’ll come home.”

“We’re here,” Virgil said.

“They?” Nell said. “How fortunate for you.”

“Well, Virgil,” Allie said with a giggle. “I never know if and when Virgil will come home. Everett is . . .”

“I’m just here a lot,” I said. “They can’t get rid of me. I’m kind of like the town dog.”

Nell laughed. She had a nice laugh.

“Well,” Nell said. “You don’t look much like a town dog.”

“Am,” I said.

“Do you bite?” Nell said.

“Do,” I said.

“Well,” Nell said. “I’ll be sure and not get too close.”

“Be a good idea,” I said.

She laughed again, and again I thought she had a lovely laugh. I thought she was very pretty, but then almost from someplace deep inside, an undercurrent of my mind, flashed the horrific image of our men hanging in the slaughterhouse. It was such a private, brutal thought for this particular time.

I looked to the fire for a moment and thought secretly and intently about what we saw. I shook my head some. I realized that what we witnessed would haunt me for a very long time, perhaps for the rest of my life. The godforsaken slaughterhouse . . .

“I’ve invited Nell to stay the night,” Allie said.

Virgil looked at me, then looked to the women.

“Mr. Beauchamp?”

“Resting,” Nell said.

“Know where you are?” Virgil said.

Nell nodded.

“I let him know,” she said.

“You did?”

“Yes,” she said.

“And he heard you?” Virgil said.

“Virgil?” Allie said.

Virgil looked to Allie.

“You walked over there and got her and she told him she was staying the night?” Virgil said.

“It’s okay, Virgil,” Allie said.

“Just don’t want him to come out of sleeping it off and find his wife missing.”

“Virgil,” Allie said, appalled.

“It’s okay,” Nell said. “Don’t worry, Marshal. I assure you it’s not an issue. He’ll not see the chime of another hour until late tomorrow morning.”

Virgil looked at her for a moment and nodded a little.

“Well,” Virgil said. “Welcome.”

“Thank you,” Nell said. “Your home is beautiful.”

“Appreciate it,” Virgil said. “We put a lot into it.”

Virgil looked to me.

“Everett helped,” he said.

I smiled.

Nell looked to me and smiled. So far Nell had yet to budge even a smidgen from her pose on the sofa.

“Where’s she gonna sleep?” Virgil said.

“With me,” Allie said. “Just like sisters.”

“Where am I gonna sleep?” Virgil said.

“Right there,” Allie said, pointing to the sofa.

— 52 —

Virgil looked to the sofa.

“Kind of small, isn’t it?” Virgil said.

“I can stay on the sofa,” Nell said.

“No,” Allie said. “Virgil will be perfectly fine sleeping right there. Won’t you, Virgil.”

I nodded a little.

“Beats sleeping in the barn,” I said.

“Well,” Allie said with a clap of her hands. “I’m sure you boys are hungry.”

Virgil just looked to me, then back to the sofa.

Allie clasped her hands in front of her chest and looked to Nell.

“Well,” Allie said. “Time to beat the daylights out of those pots and pans.”

“I’m not much of a cook, I’m afraid,” Nell said.

“Nonsense,” Allie said, holding her hand out. “Come with me, it will be fun.”

Nell took Allie’s hand and rose up from her position on the sofa dramatically, like she was a queen. She looked to me and smiled as she walked off.

We watched the women walk to the kitchen.

Virgil shook his head a little.

“Timing has a way of being goddamn untimely, don’t it?” Virgil said.

“Does,” I said.

Virgil got a log from a pile of logs near the hearth and set it in the burning flames. He picked up the poker and poked around in the fire a bit, giving it some air.

“You gonna say anything?” I said.

“Not at the moment, I ain’t,” Virgil said.

Virgil set the poker aside. He walked over to the dining room breakfront. He got two glasses, came back to the table in front of the fireplace, and poured us each a decent nudge of Kentucky.

“She seems happy,” Virgil said. “Want to let her stay that way. Talking about what happened today, about brutal murder, ain’t light fare.”

“No,” I said. “It’s not.”

“People are gonna know soon enough about them,” I said.

“If they don’t already,” Virgil said.

I nodded.

“Still, need to let the mayor know in the morning,” I said. “Post notice, let him make the formal statement.”

“Goddamn,” Virgil said, shaking his head. “Goddamn.”

“I know,” I said.

“Good boys,” Virgil said.

“They were,” I said.

Virgil and I sat across from each other. He looked at his whiskey for a moment, then threw it back.

I drank mine, too, and Virgil poured us two more.

“I been thinking about Ballard,” Virgil said.

“’Bout?”

“He would have been hanging next to the others in the slaughterhouse if he wasn’t interested in fucking them up, too,” Virgil said.

I nodded.

“Belle said he was a buck in the rut,” I said. “Horns and all.”

“Ballard is older, too,” Virgil said. “He most likely took over as the lead of this bunch.”

“A gun to a knife fight,” I said.

Virgil nodded.

“What we know about him is he’s a hard-case badass,” Virgil said. “Snaps on women.”

“And men,” I said. “His brother included.”

Virgil nodded.

“He beat up that fella Belle told us about, left him tied up, naked,” Virgil said.

“A collector,” I said. “An attractor and intimidator.”

We drank a bit more as we looked to the fire.

“A killer,” Virgil said.

“He’s settled in,” I said.

“He’s by God right at home,” Virgil said.

I sat back with the glass in my hand. I looked to the fire, watching it.

Virgil did the same.

We watched the fire for a long moment, then Virgil spoke without looking at me.

“Last thing we do, Everett,” Virgil said, as he stayed looking in the fire. “Is bring them goddamn down like wolves on lamb.”

— 53 —

Allie made a dinner of rabbit, carrots, and potatoes. The rabbit had been cooked too fast and was kind of tough to chew. We drank some wine with the food, which made the whole of it tolerable. I didn’t really give a shit about the food or the wine. Fact was, it was hard to eat anything. All I could think about was seeing those men, our men, hanging like animals.

“So,” Allie said, working her jaw muscle on the rabbit. “Please tell us, Nell. What’s it like to have such an exciting life, such an exciting profession?”

Nell worked at the rabbit on her plate with her fork and knife for a moment before she spoke.

“I wish I had a home,” Nell said. “Like this.”

“Really?” Allie said.

“Really,” Nell said.

“But you get to be in new and fascinating places all the time.”

“Not sure how fascinating the places, the stopovers of the west, are, Allie,” Nell said.

“But,” Allie said, “you are onstage and people adore you and your husband. That has to be exciting.”

“At first it was,” Nell said. “But things change.”

Virgil glanced to me.

“Nell’s from San Francisco,” Allie said.

“That right?” I said.

“Yes,” Nell said. “Have you ever been?”

“I have,” I said.

“And?” Nell said.

“Lot of people,” I said. “A polyglot.”

“True,” Nell said.

“Do you miss it?” Allie said.

“Not so much,” Nell said.

“I’ve never been,” Allie said. “Virgil tells me he’ll take me there, one day. I will believe it when I see it. You have family there?” Allie said.

“No,” she said. “I don’t.”

“How did you become an actress?” Allie said.

“Allie,” Virgil said. “Let her chew her food.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Nell said. “I was a dancer at first.”

“How exciting,” Allie said. “The ballet?”

Nell smiled.

“No,” Nell said. “Dance hall.”

“Oh,” Allie said.

“Started when I was twelve,” she said.

“Oh,” Allie said.

“In the Barbary,” Nell said, matter-of-fact.

“Oh,” Allie said.

Virgil glanced to me.

It became clear to me the relationship between Beauregard and Nell. She was in the Barbary. He most likely pulled her out of the Barbary before she was completely devoured. The only women in the Barbary were whores. Nell and Allie had more in common, I thought, than what first met the eye. Both had a history of whoring, and given the fact they seemed to be two peas in a pod, it was becoming pretty clear just why.

“Let her eat,” Virgil said.

Nell worked at cutting the rabbit on her plate into little pieces before she said anything else.

“He’s not a bad man,” Nell said, looking at Virgil. “If it were not for him . . . no telling where I’d be.”

Virgil didn’t say anything.

“Not a good man,” Nell went on, as she continued to cut her rabbit.

She was sawing on the rabbit as if she were cutting up Beauregard.

“But not a bad man,” she said, as she forked a piece of rabbit into her mouth and chewed.

After dinner, Nell insisted Allie and Virgil sit by the fire and enjoy each other’s company while I helped her in the kitchen, cleaning the dishes.

We worked side by side, washing and drying the dishes for a long while without saying anything.

“He knows I like you,” Nell said.

I just looked at her.

She looked at me.

“That’s why he acted the way he did when I saw you walk into the door of the hotel,” she said. “He could see it in my eyes. He’s beyond jealous. He watches me. Watches my every move. He knows I’m looking for a way out.”

“I’m no savior,” I said.

“I know,” Nell said.

She continued to wash and I continued to dry.

“You could do one thing for me, though,” Nell said.

“What’s that?” I said.

“Before I have to leave Appaloosa,” she said, “I’d like you to make love to me.”