33
THE GOING UNDERFOOT was slow on this stretch as we rode south toward Appaloosa. The horses knew they were going home and didn’t need guidance. We gave them their head and, with the reins hanging loose over the saddle horn, let them pick their way through the thorny ground runners and low sage.
“Funny thing,” Virgil said. “’Bout the law.”
On a long ride, Virgil, who often went hours without saying anything, was given to musing aloud.
“What’s that,” I said.
“Up in Resolution,” Virgil said. “With Cato and Rose, we was on the side of the law, and Callico was not. When we get back to Appaloosa, Callico’ll be the law, and we’ll be on the other side of it.”
“True.”
“But we ain’t changed,” Virgil said.
“Nope.”
“Did the law change?” Virgil said.
“People who decide what it is changed,” I said.
“Don’t seem right,” Virgil said.
“Hell, Virgil, you made the law in every town we marshaled.”
“I did,” Virgil said. “Didn’t I.”
“You did,” I said. “Will again.”
“But it didn’t keep changing once I made it,” Virgil said.
“No, it didn’t,” I said. “Still don’t. Never does. When we’re marshaling you make rules and we call it the law. When we ain’t marshaling, you make rules and we call it Virgil Cole.”
The horses waded halfway into a small stream and stopped to drink. While they drank, Virgil thought about that.
“And you don’t care?” Virgil said.
“Nope. Same rules.”
We moved on across the stream and back into the rough scrub.
“And it don’t bother you?”
“Hell, Virgil,” I said. “You know I don’t worry much ’bout such things.”
“You let me decide?” Virgil said.
“Generally I agree with you,” I said.
“And if you didn’t?” Virgil said.
“Depends,” I said. “Can’t recall you ever asking me to do something didn’t seem like I should.”
“But how you know if you should?” Virgil said.
“Most people know what they should do, most of the time,” I said. “’Specially if they ain’t married.”
“So, why you think I worry about it?” Virgil said.
“Couple things,” I said. “You talk about it, but you don’t really worry about it. You don’t worry ’bout much of anything, ’cept maybe Allie.”
Virgil nodded.
“That’d be one thing,” Virgil said.
“And you’re a good gun hand,” I said.
“So are you,” Virgil said.
“Yeah, I am,” I said. “But you are the best gun hand I ever seen. Maybe the best there is. There’s some weight goes with that.”
Virgil was looking at some dragonflies hovering over a patch of flowers off to the right.
“Can’t just kill somebody ’cause you’re quicker’n them,” he said.
“No, you can’t,” I said.
Virgil was quiet for a time as the horses moved carefully along.
“And I don’t,” he said.
“No,” I said. “You don’t.”