16

PONY HAD BREAKFAST with us at Café Paris on Friday. The Chinaman who ran the café had some chickens, and they had been laying recently. So, with our beans and salt pork and biscuits, we each had an egg.

“Sick of cooking for me and Kha-to-nay,” Pony said.

“How is life out on the prairie,” I said.

Pony shrugged.

“Quiet,” he said. “But Kha-to-nay wants to go back to war with white-eyes.”

“Ain’t gonna win that,” I said.

“I know,” Pony said. “Try to keep him alive long as I can. Balloon go up here on Sunday?”

Virgil shook his head.

“No?” I said.

Virgil shook his head again.

“He backed off the shooting,” Virgil said. “Soon’s we brought it up.”

“Scared?” Pony said.

Virgil shook his head.

“Ambitious,” he said.

“Afraid it would spoil his plan to be governor?” I said.

“Yep.”

“He did shift the tone of the conversation,” I said.

“He tell you go,” Pony said. “He tell you, you not go he kill you.”

“True,” Virgil said. “But he won’t.”

“Think I come in town, anyway,” Pony said. “Stay with you Sunday.”

“ ’Preciate it,” Virgil said. “But I ain’t wrong ’bout this.”

“Wants to be known as the man who cleaned up Appaloosa,” I said.

“Yep,” Virgil said. “And he won’t get that reputation by shooting us.”

“Who actually did clean up Appaloosa,” I said.

“Maybe for a while,” Virgil said. “But Callico’s a politician. Don’t care nothing about actually.”

“He lie?” Pony said.

“How he knows he’s a politician,” Virgil said.