Appaloosa sat in a short valley. There were hills east and west, allowing the wind to funnel in from the north and rip through the town, swirling dust as high as the rooftops. From where Cole and I sat, drinking coffee on the front porch of the jail on a nice Sunday morning, we could see the valley rim to the west. Along the rim, two riders moved in slow silhouette.
“So,” Cole said, “you been talking with Mrs. French.”
“I have, Virgil.”
The riders on the rim paused and sat motionless, facing the town. It was a little far to see exactly who they were.
“What’s she like to talk about?” Cole said.
“She was asking me a lot about you, Virgil.”
“She was. Was she asking in a liking way?”
“Wanted to know if you were married,” I said.
On the rim of the western slope, one of the horses nosed the flank of the other.
“She did, did she. By God. What’d you tell her.”
“Said I didn’t know.”
“Well, hell, Everett,” Cole said. “You see a wife around here?”
“I don’t.”
“Then why the hell you tell her you didn’t know.”
“Might have a wife in Silver City,” I said. “Or Nogales, or Bisbee.”
“Had an Apache woman, lived with me once. Kinda like a wife, I guess. But there was never any words spoke over us or anything, and one day when I come home, she was gone.”
“Where?”
“Don’t know.”
“You ever look for her?”
“I was going to,” Cole said. “But then I got a job up in Durango, and I went up there. Never did know where she went. Back to the tribe, is most probable.”
The horsemen on the hill pulled their horses around and started off again, south, at a slow walk. One of them had rolled a cigarette, and even though they were a piece off, I could smell the tobacco.
“Well, Allie says she’s going to ask you, so you might want to have an answer ready.”
He looked at me and frowned a little.
“She’s going to ask me if I been married?”
“I think she’s more interested in if you are presently married.”
“Hell, no, I’m not presently married.”
“She’ll be pleased,” I said.
Cole nodded. He was looking at the horsemen on the rim.
“Been there since dawn,” Cole said.
“The riders?”
“Yep. Riding back and forth, looking at the town. There’s two on the hill east of us.”
“Whaddya think?” I said.
“I think Mrs. French might become exclusively interesting,” Cole said.
“Whaddya think about the men in the hills?” I said.
“I think you and me might want to ride up and see what they’re doing up there.”
“Can I finish my coffee first?”
“You surely may,” Cole said.