“You got no idea who I am, do you?”
“I don’t,” Virgil said, and nodded toward the door.
“My name’s Nicholas Laird,” he said. “That mean anything to you?”
“Means none of these ladies want your business,” Virgil said.
He took hold of Laird’s right arm with his left hand. Laird tried to shake it off and couldn’t.
“We’ll walk to the door,” Virgil said.
“You’re heeled,” Laird said. “And I’m not. And you got the shotgun over there.”
“Bad odds,” Virgil said.
“Next time you see me,” Laird said, “odds are gonna be different.”
Virgil’s face changed slightly. No one else probably could tell. But I knew he was smiling.
“Maybe not,” Virgil said.
6
WE WERE DRINKING coffee at the bar with Willis
McDonough.
“Would you really have shot him?” Willis asked.
“Certain,” Virgil said.
“She’s a whore,” Willis said.
“She is,” Virgil said. “But she ain’t a slave.”
Willis nodded and looked like he didn’t get it, but he didn’t need to.
“Well, you bit a pretty big end off the plug,” Willis said. “His old man is General Horatio Laird. Took over Bragg’s place after”-Willis looked at me-“after he, ah, died. Bought that Scots bull, too.”
“Black angus,” I said.
“Yeah,” Willis said. “Them, and the cows, and made a killing with ’em. People back east was eatin’ them fast as Laird could slaughter the steers.”
“Rich man?” I said.
“Damn straight,” Willis said.
“What’s the ‘general’ for.”
“Confederate army.”
“Still hanging on to it,” I said.
“Proud of it,” Willis said. “Proud of a lot of things. But the kid ain’t one of them.”
“Nicholas,” Virgil said.
“The general must have done some bad stuff in his life, ’cause Nicholas is a big punishment,” Willis said.
Virgil didn’t seem to be listening. He scanned the room aimlessly. But I knew he heard everything. Just like he saw everything.