It was the night before the trial. Stringer and his deputies were in the jail with Bragg and Whitfield. Cole and I were walking, one on each side of Allie, to look at the latest developments on the house. Allie had her arm though Cole’s. She showed no sign that anything had gone on there, or anywhere else, between me and her.
“Tell me about those men, Virgil,” she said.
“Shelton brothers?”
“Yes. The ones in the Boston House Saloon.”
“They’re just gunmen,” Cole said.
“But they seem different than other gunmen.”
“They ain’t,” Cole said. “They’re just real good gunmen.”
“No,” she said, “they are different. Even from Mr. Bragg. You treat them different.”
“Known ’em a long time,” Cole said.
“Longer than you’ve known Everett.”
“Yep.”
“Have you and they been friends?”
“Ain’t been enemies.”
“But you don’t act like they’re friends now.”
“Never were friends,” Cole said. “Done some work with them.”
“Shooting work?”
“Yep.”
“Can they shoot as good as you?”
“Ain’t never been put to the test,” Cole said.
“I never seen anyone, Allie,” I said, “good as Virgil with a gun.”
“Maybe so, maybe not,” Cole said. “Ain’t but one way to know. And knowing ain’t the point.”
“I know, Virgil, I was just trying to answer Allie’s question.”
“Ain’t no answer. Ain’t a question to ask,” Cole said. “Ain’t like we’re racing horses.”
Allie was watching us both, her eyes shifting back and forth between us. She seemed sort of excited. Her eyes were shiny.
“Don’t be careless with them boys, Everett,” Cole said. “They are quick and they hit what they shoot at.”
“One of them more than the other?” I said.
“No.”
“What happened to the younger one’s voice?” Allie said.
“Took a bullet in the throat,” Cole said. “Up in Cheyenne, I believe.”
“Are they going to cause trouble?” Allie said.
Her eyes were even shinier. Her face looked sort of hot. There was a reddish smudge over her cheekbones.
“Might,” Cole said. “Often do.”
“Are you afraid of them?” Allie said.
Her voice sounded a bit scratchy, like she might need to clear her throat. Cole listened to the question and was quiet like he always was when he was thinking about a question. He turned it around in his head, looked at it from all its various sides, and decided.
“No,” he said. “I ain’t.”