“How much?” Virgil said.

Speck told him.

“You don’t have anybody sitting lookout?” Virgil said.

“The police arrested my last one,” Speck said. “Turns out he was wanted in Kansas.”

“Kansas,” Virgil said, and looked at me.

“The police keep a sharp eye in Appaloosa,” I said.

“We run our own show,” Virgil said. “Post a list of rules, people obey them or they leave. People give us trouble, we shoot them.”

“Shoot?”

“You think people gonna obey the rules ’cause they like us?” Virgil said.

“Well, ah, no, of course not, I guess.”

“They obey the rules ’cause they know we’ll shoot,” Virgil says. “Which means maybe, now and then, we’ll have to.”

“Well, I… certainly. You know this work best.”

“Police gonna be helpful?” I said.

“I’m sure they will be pleased to have help,” Speck said.

“They been helpful in the past?” I said.

“They are often very busy,” Speck said.

“Ain’t had any trouble with Callico?” Virgil said.

“Certainly not,” Speck said. “Except for my lookout.”

Virgil nodded.

“We’ll come by in the morning,” Virgil said. “Give a list of our rules. You agree to post them. We’ll start work.”

Speck stood and put out his hand. Virgil ignored it.

“Virgil don’t shake hands,” I said. “Nothing personal.”

“Oh,” Speck said. “Oh, well, very good. I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

As we stood on the porch outside the Boston House, Virgil said, “You ain’t wanted in Kansas, are you?”

“No,” I said. “You?”

“Nope.”

“Maybe Callico’s just enforcing the law,” I said.

“That’s getting to seem harder than it used to,” Virgil said.

5

THE PAY was regular at the Boston House, and the work was easy. Most people in Appaloosa had heard of Virgil Cole.

When things were slow, Virgil and I would drink coffee with the whores in the back of the room, or lean on the bar and talk with the bartenders. When the place was busy we’d move through the room, making sure nobody was heeled and, occasionally, soothing a belligerent.