Rain Gods (Hackberry Holland 2)

?You didn?t necessarily catch me in the middle of inventing the wheel.?

?Maydeen gave me two tickets to the rodeo. We can probably still catch the last hour or so, or just go to the fair.?

?Is everything okay??

?Sure. No problems.?

He walked into the yard, the spray from his sprinklers iridescent in the glow of the porch light. She looked up into his face, an expectation there that he couldn?t quite define. He scratched at the top of his fore head. ?I had dreams about Korea for a long time,? he said. ?Once in a while I still go back there. It?s the way we?re made. If certain things we do or witness don?t leave a stone bruise on the soul, there?s something wrong with our humanity.?

?I?m all right, Hack.?

?It doesn?t work that way, kiddo.?

?Don?t assign me patronizing names.? When he didn?t reply, she put her hands on her hips and stared into the darkness, her eyes fighting with an emotion she didn?t plan to discuss or perhaps even recognize. ?Eriksson looked into my face just before I shot him. He knew what was about to happen. I?ve always heard the term ?mortal fear? used to describe moments like that. But that wasn?t it. He saw the other side.?

?Of what??

?The grave, judgment, eternity, whatever people want to call it. It was like he was thinking the words ?It?s forever too late.??

?Eriksson dealt the play and got what he deserved. You saved my life, Pam. Don?t let a sonofabitch like that rob you of your life.?

?You can be pretty hard-edged, Hack.?

?No, I?m not. Eriksson was a killer for hire.? He cupped his palm around the back of her neck. ?He preyed on the defenseless and used what was best in people to turn them into his victims. We?re the children of light. That?s not a hyperbole.?

Her eyes wandered over his face as though she feared mockery or insincerity in his words. ?I?m not a child of light, not at all.?

?You are to me,? he said. He saw her swallow and her lips part. His palm felt warm and moist on the back of her neck. He removed it and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. ?I?d really like to go to that rodeo. I?d like to buy some candied apples and caramel corn at the fair, too. Anybody who doesn?t like rodeos and county fairs has something wrong with him.?

?Get mad at me if you want,? she said. She put her arms around him and hugged herself against him and pressed her face against his chest and her body against his loins. He could smell the perfume behind her ears and the strawberry shampoo in her hair and the fragrance of her skin. He saw the windmill?s blades ginning in the starlight, the disen gaged rotary shaft turning impotently, the cast-iron pipe dry and hard-looking above the aluminum tank. He rested his cheek on top of Pam?s head, his eyes tightly shut.

She stepped away from him. ?Is it because you feel certain people shouldn?t be together? Because they?re the wrong age or color or gender or their bloodline is too close? Is that how you think, Hack??

?No,? he replied.

?Then what is it? Is it because you?re my boss? Or is it just me??

It?s because it?s dishonorable for an old man to sleep with a young woman who is looking for her father, he thought.

?What did you say??

?I said nothing. I said let me buy you a late supper. I said I?m happy you came by. I said let?s go to the fair.?

?All right, Hack. If you say so. I won?t??

?Won?t what??

She smiled and shrugged.

?You won?t what?? he repeated.

She continued to smile, her feigned cheerfulness concealing her resignation. ?I?ll drive,? she said.

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THAT NIGHT AFTER she dropped him off, he sat for a long time in his bedroom with the lights turned off. Then he lay down on top of the bedcovers in his clothes and stared at the ceiling, the heat lightning flickering on his body. Outside, he heard his horses running in the pasture, their hooves heavy-sounding, swallowed by the wind, as though they were wrapped in flannel. He heard his garbage-can lid rattle on the driveway, blown by the wind or pulled loose from the bungee cord by an animal. He heard the trees thrashing and wild animals walking through the yard and the twang of his smooth wire when a deer went through his back fence. Then he heard a noise that shouldn?t have been there, a car engine in closer proximity to his house than the state road would allow.

He sat up and slipped his boots on and went out on the porch. A car had pulled off the asphalt and driven onto the dirt track beyond the northern border of his property. The car?s lights were off, but the engine was still running. Hackberry went back into the bedroom and removed his holstered revolver from under his bed and unsnapped the strap from the hammer and let the holster slide off the barrel onto the bedspread. He walked back outside and crossed the yard to the horse lot. Missy?s Playboy and Love That Santa Fe were standing by their water tank, frozen, looking to the north, the wind drifting a cloud of dust across them.