Blue-Eyed Devil

“So, we got some preliminary skirmishes to observe,” I said. “’Fore we know.”

Virgil nodded. We both ate some pie, and Virgil drank some coffee. He shook his head.

“Chinaman makes the second-worst coffee in Appaloosa,” he said.

“Allie being the worst,” I said.

“Yes.”

I nodded toward the bank festivities.

“Allie’s in attendance,” I said.

“I know,” Virgil said. “Since Laurel went off, Allie’s got a lot of free time.”

He drank some more coffee.

“I don’t encourage her to spend it cooking,” he said.

“I wouldn’t,” I said.

“She’s working her way up in Appaloosa society,” he said.

“Which would be, at the moment, Callico,” I said. “And the general.”

“Callico is through Mrs. Callico,” Virgil said.

“The belle of New Orleans,” I said.

“Whole damned South,” Virgil said.

The Chinaman came out and poured us more coffee. We both drank some and looked across the bright street. Allie was talking to Chauncey Teagarden.

“General’s kinda long in the tooth,” I said. “But Chauncey ain’t.”

Virgil nodded and stared across the street at Allie over the top of his coffee cup.

“You and me know Allie, I’d guess,” Virgil said, “better’n anybody.”

“You know her best,” I said.

Virgil shook his head.

“No,” Virgil said. “I fucked her and you ain’t. But you know her well as I do.”

I didn’t say anything.

“And she knows that Chauncey is here sooner or later to kill me,” Virgil said.

I nodded.

“And she knows that he might succeed.”

“Always possible,” I said.

“And so you know she’s thinking ahead,” Virgil said.

I was quiet for a moment, looking across the street. Then I took in some air and blew it out slowly.

“And lining up replacements,” I said.

“In case,” Virgil said.

“Something happened to you, I’d look out for her,” I said.

“She knows that,” he said. “She also knows I go down, you’ll probably go, too.”

“Probably,” I said.

“And even if you don’t go down, she knows you won’t…”

Virgil wobbled his hand a little.

“No,” I said. “That’s right. I’d look out for her, but I wouldn’t, ah, be with her.”

“You don’t love her,” Virgil said.

“No.”

Virgil gazed across the street silently.

“I do,” he said.

“I know.”

“Don’t make any sense, does it?” Virgil said.

I exhaled again.

“No,” I said. “But maybe it ain’t supposed to.”

“I want her to feel safe,” Virgil said.

“I’ll see that she does,” I said.

“No,” Virgil said. “You can’t. ’Cause you won’t fuck her and she can’t feel safe with no one ’less she’s fucking him.”

“I know,” I said.

“So, let her find somebody to fuck, if I go,” Virgil said. “And don’t kill him for fucking her.”

I nodded again.

“Work out better all around,” I said, “you don’t die.”

“Would,” Virgil said. “Wouldn’t it.”

53

AS THE TOWN BLOOMED, the Reclamation Commission bloomed along with it and, in time, was effectively ru

“Bad mistake,” Virgil said, walking through the still-virgin offices.

“Building the office first?” I said.

“Longer it sits here,” Virgil said, “more pressure to have an election and elect a mayor.”

“Which will be either Callico or the general,” I said.

“Ru

I nodded slowly without saying anything.

“Ain’t ready for that yet,” Virgil said.

“Laird might be,” I said.

“Maybe he is,” Virgil said. “Maybe he ain’t. Callico ain’t.”

“Wants it too bad,” I said.

We walked out of the gleaming new office and down the broad corridor.

“Wants everything too bad,” Virgil said.

“Wants to be more than he is,” I said.

“Not the key to happiness, I’m thinking,” Virgil said.

“You’d settle for being what you are,” I said to Virgil.

“I have,” Virgil said.

“Would you settle for being Callico?” I said.

We opened the heavy front door and went out of the soap-smelling hall and down the stairs. The smell of the town was thick with sawdust and raw wood, horse droppings, and the smell of scorched wood from the steam saw. All drifted across Appaloosa on the easy breeze from the prairie, to which a vestige of sage smell still clung.

“No,” Virgil said.

54

THE RESTORATION of Appaloosa was complete by the time the fall rains arrived. But the town kept right on building.

On September 1, Amos Callico and General Horatio Laird both a

“Do you think he’d be the best?” Allie said.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Virgil said. “Hate politics.”

“Well, they’re what’s ru

“Probably Callico,” I said.

“Even though the newspaper says it should be General Laird?”

“They probably think he looks like a mayor,” I said.

“He was a general, you know,” Allie said.

“Part of the problem,” I said. “He’s used to working inside a set of rules. And he’s used to people doing what he tells them to do.”

“I should think that would be good for a mayor,” Allie said.

Virgil was standing in the kitchen doorway, looking out at the dark rain soaking into his yard. The sound of it was pleasant. The smell of the new rain was fresh. The mud was probably six inches deep already.

“Not for mayor of a town like Appaloosa,” I said. “Never had a mayor before. Never actual like had a government before. Man’s go

“That’s a good mayor?”

“He’ll get things done,” I said.

“Maybe that’s not all he should do,” Allie said.

At the open door, Virgil turned and looked for a long moment at Allie.

“By God, Allie,” he said. “Maybe it ain’t.”

55

BUSINESS WAS GOOD in Appaloosa. Virgil and I kept busy buffaloing drunks, and occasionally a little more, in the saloons we serviced. When we weren’t busy we spent our time watching the mayoral election unfold in virgin territory.

The rain was meager today. Enough drizzle to keep the streets mucky but not to drive the voters away, and they stood in a damp cluster around the stairs to Reclamation Hall, where General Laird was explaining to them why they would be wise to vote him in as mayor.

“I have led men all my life,” he said. “I understand how to run an organization.”

“You understand how to run,” someone said loudly in the front row.

“I beg your pardon, sir?” Laird said.

“Whyn’t you tell ’em how you flat-out run away at Ralesberg,” the loud voice said.

“I did no such thing. We won at Ralesberg.”

“While you was ru

“Sir, that is a lie,” Laird said.

He stood very erect in a slightly shabby gray CSA general officer’s coat, the light rain drizzling down onto his bare head.