Robert B. Parker is no stranger to readers of modern fiction. With some 50 novels to his credit and one of the most successful private-eye series (the Boston-based Spenser stories), he knows what he is doing.
With that in mind, it might seem strange that with his latest novel, “Appaloosa,” he resorts to almost every stereotype in the books to tell a story of the Old West. But hold on, it is just those stereotypes that delight readers of Westerns and made virtual celebrities of authors like Zane Grey, Owen Wister and Louis L’Amour.
To paraphrase Mark Twain, if there are 25 stereotypes in the common Western novel, Parker utilizes 23 of them in “Appaloosa.” Now, don’t read this as a complaint. Parker knows how to tell a story, and “Appaloosa” reads like he had great fun writing it. Just like you’ll have great fun reading it.
First, you have our hero, Virgil Cole, a taciturn, tough city marshal who is quick with a gun and who possesses a strong moral compass when it comes to the Code of the West. (There are at least five stereotypes in that sentence alone.)
His deputy, Everett Hitch, narrates the story. Hitch, with a West Point education and a wicked sense of humor, goes a little counter to type. But he falls into line with his strict adherence to the law (mostly), his dedication to Cole and his ability with firearms.
Then there is Cole’s love interest, the widow Allie French, who, as it turns out, is not a hooker with a heart of gold, but rather a saloon piano player with a treacherous heart of coal.
Of course, you have to have a bad guy. In this case, it’s Randall Bragg, whom Cole is determined to bring to justice for the killing of the former town lawman. Bragg, like most of his ilk in these stories, hires others to do his dirty work, but you know he’ll get his comeuppance anyway.
Parker, as in his Spenser novels, is adept at getting many points across through dialogue, as spare as it may seem. Early on, the reader learns not to expect much from Cole, at least verbally. He has Hitch tell us:
“…Cole never talked just to be talking, though when he did talk, he seemed to ramble. That was mostly he wasn’t talking, he was thinking out loud and new thoughts occurred to him in the process. For actual talking, if it wasn’t for me prodding him, he might not talk at all.”
At another point, when the two lawmen are preparing to try to wrest Bragg away from the men who helped him escape, Cole and Hitch lecture us on the finer points of frontier justice:
“‘We’re going up against Ring because of Bragg,’ I said.
“‘Can’t be a lawman and let somebody come take your prisoner,’ Cole said.
“‘Nothin’ personal.’
“‘Nope. Business.’
“‘We done pretty good over time, Virgil, ’cause it’s never been personal. Always just a job.’
“‘It’s always been the law, Everett. It’s got to be the law. People like us got to have the law and got to do it by the law. You understand that, Everett. Otherwise you’re just a damn shooter. Nothin to prevent you from killin’ anybody.’
“‘And that’s how it is this time, too.’ I said.
“‘That’s how it is every time,’ Cole said.”
As Hitch and the Gary Cooper-like Cole stoically go about their duties to bring Bragg and his henchmen to justice, they come up against hostile Indians, recalcitrant town aldermen and gray areas in the law. There is even a shootout that bears a great resemblance to the gunfight at the OK Corral. All the while, you know they will do the honorable thing.
If “Appaloosa” has an overriding theme, it’s the loyalty to each other and that unwritten Code of the West that dictates how men treat other men – and even occasionally women.
Even at the end, Parker doesn’t hesitate to drop in another stereotype. It doesn’t divulge too much to say that one of our heroes rides off into the sunset. No kidding.
Staff writer Tom Walker can be reached at 303-820-1624 or twalker@denverpost.com.
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Appaloosa
By Robert B. Parker
Putnam, 296 pages, $24.95
