A chubby man was relieving himself just outside the front door. He looked over, seeing us as we neared. He finished his business and stepped out, watching us as we got closer. He walked out to greet us and we moved our horses toward a covered lean-to hitch on the opposite side of the road.
“How do,” he said.
“Evening,” I said.
“You the operator?” I said.
“One of them,” he said.
“I’m Deputy Marshal Hitch, this is Marshal Virgil Cole.”
“Oh, I’m Pedrick,” he said. “I take it you’re here because of the bridge? Thank goodness.”
“Need to send a wire,” Virgil said.
“By all means,” Pedrick said. “Please, come in. That we can most certainly do.”
Virgil and I dismounted. We tied our horses to the hitch and followed Pedrick back across the road to the cabin.
Pedrick looked like a drunk. Probably was a drunk. He had a large red nose situated on a pink puffy face framed with thinning light-reddish-colored hair.
The way station was a small store, telegraph office, and saloon, all combined. We could smell the aroma of flavorful cooking happening somewhere.
Pedrick’s wife walked out of the back room when we entered. She was wearing an apron and wiping fixings from her hands with a rag. She looked enough like Pedrick they could be brother and sister.
“These men are marshals from the bridge camp,” Pedrick said. “This is my wife, Patty. She’s the main operator. Patty, this is Marshal Cole and...”
“Deputy Marshal Hitch,” I said.
“Yes,” Pedrick said. “Hitch...”
Virgil removed his hat.
“Ma’am.”
“Nice to meet you both and so glad you are here,” she said. “This has been just so awful. Do you know who did this?”
“Not as of yet,” I said.
“Well,” Patty said, “I hope to God you find whoever is responsible.”
“We do, too,” I said.
“It is the saddest thing,” Patty said angrily. “Just downright sad.”
I nodded.
“They need to send a wire,” Pedrick said.
“Absolutely,” Patty said.
Patty continued to wipe her hands with the rag as she walked over to the telegraph desk situated in front of a west window.
“Honey,” she said to Pedrick, “keep an eye on my stew, don’t let it burn.”
Pedrick nodded obediently.
“Will do,” he said, as he scurried out of the room.
Patty sat in the chair in front of the telegraph desk and looked back to us.
Virgil looked to me some, then walked over to Patty.
“Were you here last night?” Virgil said.
“I was,” she said.
“You received a number of wires from Appaloosa law,” Virgil said.
She nodded.
“That was us,” Virgil said.
“You got here quick,” she said, wide-eyed.
Virgil nodded.
“Want to send a wire back to Appaloosa now,” Virgil said. “Want to know if Sheriff Driskill and his deputies have returned or if they have been heard from.”
“Want this sent from you, Marshal Cole?” Patty said.
Virgil nodded.
“Sure.”
Patty nodded and tapped out the note on the key.
A quick response came back from the Western Union operator. Charlie Hill in Appaloosa said he’d check and for us to stand by.
Patty looked to Virgil and me.
“You fellas want a drink?”
“Sure,” Virgil said.
Patty got up from the desk. She walked to the opposite side of the large room to a makeshift bar in the corner.
“Well, come on,” she said, as she walked behind the counter.
Virgil and I moved over and sat on two stools opposite Patty.
She got a bottle and poured the three of us a drink.
Patty offered us a cigar from a box with Florida’s Finest written across the top.
“Good ones,” she said.
I shook my head.
Virgil nodded.
“Sure.”
Patty clipped the cigar for Virgil and handed it to him. She struck a match and cupped it for him.
When Virgil got the cigar going good the sounder on the telegraph desk clicked. Patty tilted her head a little as she listened, then shook her head.
“Nope,” Patty said. “No sign of Sheriff Driskill.”
35
Virgil and I rode back to the bridge camp, and when we arrived we found Cox sitting at the end of a long table in the office and Gains sitting just next to him. Gip jumped up, excited to have more company, and started with his nonstop barking.
“Gip, stop,” Gains said. “Stop it, boy.”
Gip swayed his head a few times low to the ground. He wagged his tail rapidly like he didn’t hear the command.
“Gip.”
Gip looked to Gains.
“No.”
Gip wasn’t happy, but he complied. He circled a few times and laid down where Gains was pointing.
“Any new news?” Cox said.
“No,” Virgil said.
“I have a feeling if there were any news, you wouldn’t let me know, so I’m not sure why I even ask.”
“That’s okay,” Virgil said.
Cox just shook his head slightly.
“Keep in mind that this was my bridge and I’m accountable for all that transpires here, Marshal Cole.”
“I will,” Virgil said.
Cox just looked at Virgil for an extended moment.
“What now?” Cox said wearily.
“Everett and me are riding outta here before daylight,” Virgil said. “You are most welcome to ride with us back to Appaloosa if you’d like.”
“Well, I appreciate that, but I think it best I stay here for a while,” Cox said, pouring on his long southern drawl, “for the morale of the men. This has been quite a trauma for them, Marshal Cole. Many of the men have been working here for two years. This place has served as home away from home for them. It’s simply where I need to be.”
“You won’t stray away from here?” Virgil said.
“Stray?” Cox said with a frown.
“In case we need you,” Virgil said.
“I’ll be here, Marshal,” Cox said. “And will return shortly, rest assured.”
Virgil looked at Cox for an extended moment, then looked around the room. He walked over and looked at the bridge diagrams on the wall.
“One hell of a bridge,” Virgil said.
“Yes,” Cox said. “It was.”
I poured myself some coffee and took a seat in a rocking chair next to a center lodge pole, which for some reason gave Gip the inclination to play.
Gip picked up a knotted cluster of old socks and dropped them in front of me.
“You feeling neglected?”
Gip whined a little and I threw the knotted socks. Gip fetched them and caught them almost before they hit the ground.
I kept throwing the socks as Virgil perused the plans on the wall. After a bit Virgil moved away from the wall and pulled out a chair at the opposite end of the long table from Cox.
“The Rio Blanco is a tough goddamn river through these parts,” Virgil said.
“It damn sure is,” Gains said.
“Deep gorge that the water runs through,” Virgil said. “Rugged as hell for over fifty miles through here.”
“Indeed it is, Marshal,” Cox said.
Virgil looked back at the wall with the drawings on it for a moment, then looked to Cox.
“Let me ask you a question, Mr. Cox,” Virgil said.
“What is it, Marshal?”
Virgil removed his hat and tossed it to the center of the long table.
“Let’s say my hat there is the bridge and you are the land on one side of the bridge and I’m the land on the other.”