“Least till they felt like they were in the clear,” Virgil said.
“Not that far,” I said. “Worth a try.”
“You going there?” Eddie said.
Virgil looked at me.
“If so,” Eddie said. “And if it’s okay with you, Mr. Swickey, I want to go with them.”
“Let these men do their job, Eddie,” Swickey said.
“Jim was my only family,” Eddie said.
“No matter,” Swickey said.
“Does matter,” Eddie said.
“These men are lawmen, Eddie,” Swickey said.
“There ain’t been a day gone by since I saw him hanging there that I’ve not thought about him, Mr. Swickey,” Eddie said. “He was good to me. We’d been together for a good long while. He taught me a lot. When I rode away that day, I felt like a coward for not going back and standing up for what was in my heart, and I’ve felt like a coward every day since... If it’s okay, I’d like to go.”
Swickey started to speak, but Eddie continued.
“But if you don’t want me to,” Eddie said, “I understand, but if so I quit.”
“Quit?” Swickey said.
“Just as soon quit you, Mr. Swickey,” Eddie said, “than to let Jim go like this, like I done.”
Eddie looked to Virgil and me.
“I’m no gun hand,” Eddie said. “Not really good with one, but I can be helpful. Just as soon die as live another day thinking about them and what they done to Jim.”
Swickey looked at Eddie for a long moment, then looked to Virgil.
“What about the ranchers?” Swickey said.
“What about them?” Virgil said.
“What is your order of priority?” Swickey said.
“As in looking for them?” Virgil said.
“Yes,” Swickey said. “I don’t know the new upstarts over here, but I do know some names of some of the older groups that could, not saying they are, but could, be behind this.”
“Better to snuff out the wick before pouring out the oil,” Virgil said.
“Is,” I said. “At least since we know the Yaqui Brakes might well prove to be their whereabouts.”
“No guarantee,” Swickey said.
“Never is,” Virgil said.
“You gonna go?” Eddie said.
“We are,” Virgil said.
“Okay I go?” Eddie said.
Virgil looked to me.
I nodded.
Virgil looked to Swickey.
Swickey looked to Eddie, then Virgil, and nodded.
“What would you like for me to do, Marshal Cole?” Swickey said.
“The best we can hope for,” Virgil said, “is we capture one of these mutts and get to the bottom of who paid them to do what they did. If for some reason that don’t play out for us in that fashion, you could let me know the names of outfits that you feel might be behind this.”
“Already have,” Swickey said.
Swickey pulled out a piece of paper from his vest pocket and handed it to Virgil.
Virgil looked at the paper. He read it and handed it to me.
“Good enough,” Virgil said.
“When will you go to the brakes?” Swickey said.
“Now,” Virgil said.
“And Eddie?” Swickey said.
Virgil looked to Eddie.
“You think you got the stomach for this?” Virgil said.
“I don’t got the stomach not to,” Eddie said.
Virgil nodded and stood up. He walked to the side door and looked out. He stepped outside.
“Skinny Jack,” Virgil called out. “Come here.”
Virgil walked back into the room and looked at everyone looking at him.
“Here we go,” Virgil said.
60
We left Swickey and his other hands at the Boston House and made our way back to the front of the sheriff’s office, where we met with Chastain and readied ourselves to ride.
“What if they ain’t there?” Chastain said.
“Then they ain’t there,” Virgil said.
“If they are there,” Chastain said, “you think they will all be there? Still be together?”
Virgil looked to me.
“Good chance,” I said.
“Is,” Virgil said.
“Like a pack of dogs,” I said.
“Think Ballard will still be among ’em?” Chastain said.
“We do,” I said.
“He’s come this far with them,” Virgil said. “And going by what we know of him he could very well be the goddamn stallion of the herd by now.”
“Don’t figure they’ll still be dressed in no blues,” Chastain said. “Do you think?”
Virgil looked to me.
“Don’t think so,” I said.
“Wouldn’t be very fitting to wear a Union uniform in a holdout camp,” Virgil said.
“Never know, though,” I said.
Virgil nodded.
“They might,” he said.
“Might all think it a goddamn funny novelty,” I said.
“Well, let’s say they don’t,” Chastain said. “And like you, I doubt they’d still be tramping around in uniforms, so how the hell will we know these men?”
Virgil pointed to Eddie.
“Eddie knows the faces of the two of them,” Virgil said. “The Cotters.”
Eddie nodded.
“I damn sure do,” he said.
“I know one of them,” I said. “When I saw them ride by Hal’s on their way into town. I won’t forget that face. Not ever. I suspect he was one of the Cotters.”
“And Ballard’s a cock hound,” Virgil said. “Tall, handsome man, longhorn mustache. Got a good idea we’ll know him.”
I nodded.
“They all had Union saddles,” I said. “McClellans. They didn’t bother to take our men’s saddles when they killed their horses, so unless they had some other saddles someplace or bought some saddles, we’ll have that to look for.”
“That leaves four more,” Chastain said. “How will we know them?”
“Don’t suppose we’ll know,” Virgil said. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find that Ballard and the Cotters strung them up like the others they’ve left in their wake.”
We left Skinny Jack and Book to keep the peace in Appaloosa and the four of us, Virgil, Chastain, Eddie, and me, rode out of the city just before eleven o’clock, and headed for the Yaqui Brakes.
The snow had stopped falling and the clouds looked to be separating some, but the roads were snow-covered and the ride was slow going.
The brakes were a good five miles of high, thick brush with passages through them that led to a central camp where the tents were pitched next to the creek.
There were other holdout camps like the Yaqui Brakes, and this one was not unlike the others we’d seen. Holdout camps consisted of mostly nonconforming southern miscreants and rabble-rousers who thought the war was still going on, or at least thought it should be going on. They were uncomfortable being around anyone who wasn’t as crossways as they were or thought the way they thought.
The bad news about the Yaqui Brakes was there were at least ten ways in and ten ways out.
As we neared the brakes the snow was not as deep as it was back in the Appaloosa direction, and the riding became increasingly easier.
Late in the afternoon, when we came upon a low section of land where the rail and the road next to the rail turned to the west, I stopped and looked back to the others trailing behind me.
“This is it,” I said, pointing to the lowland to our left.
Virgil nodded and looked around.
“It is,” Virgil said.
“How far, in there?” Chastain said.
“Five miles, maybe,” I said.
“How do you want to go about this?” Chastain said.
“Want to wait till dark,” Virgil said.
61
“It’s damn near dark now,” I said.
“It is,” Virgil said.