Rain Gods (Hackberry Holland 2)

Bobby Lee screwed the muzzle of a nine-millimeter against T-Bone?s temple. The hammer was already cocked, the butterfly safety off.

?You use your nine on your??

?That?s right, I do,? Bobby Lee said. ?A fourteen-rounder, manufactured before the bunny huggers got them banned. Hand me your piece, butt-first.?

T-Bone lifted his hand to eye level, his fingers clamped across the frame of his .25. Bobby Lee took it from him and dropped it in his pocket. ?Who?s down here with you??

?A couple of new people. Maybe Hugo?s around. I don?t know. Maybe??

?Maybe what??

?There?s a lot of interest in Preacher.?

Bobby Lee removed the nine-millimeter?s muzzle from T-Bone?s temple, leaving a red circle that seemed to glow against the bone. ?Get out.?

T-Bone stepped carefully from the door. ?I was supposed to grab the girl and call Hugo and not do anything to her. I didn?t pull it off, so I saw the kid carrying his groceries on the road, and I took a chance.?

Bobby Lee was silent, busy with thoughts inside of which people lived or died or were left somewhere in between; his thoughts shaped and reshaped themselves, sorting out different scenarios that, in seconds, could result in a situation no human being wanted to experience.

?If you see Preacher?? T-Bone said.

?I?ll see him.?

?I just carry out orders.?

?Do I need to jot that down so I got the wording right??

?I ain?t worth it, Bobby Lee.?

?Worth what??

?Whatever.?

?Tell me what ?whatever? is.?

?Why you doing this to me??

?Because you piss me off.?

?What?d I do??

?You remind me of a zero. No, a zero is a thing, a circle with air inside it. You make me think of something that?s less than a zero.?

T-Bone?s gaze wandered out into the pasture. More Angus were moving into the arroyo. There were trees along the arroyo, and the shadows of the cattle seemed to dissolve into the trees? shadows and enlarge and darken them at the same time. ?It?s fixing to rain again. They always clump up before it rains.?

Bobby Lee was breathing through his nose, his eyes unfocused, strained, as though someone were shining a light into them.

T-Bone closed his eyes, and his voice made a clicking sound, but no words came from his throat. Then he hawked loudly and spat a bloody clot on the ground. ?I got ulcers.?

Bobby Lee didn?t speak.

?Don?t shoot me in the face,? T-Bone said.

?Turn around.?

?Bobby Lee.?

?If you look back, if you call Hugo, if you contact anybody about this, I?m gonna do to you what you did to that Mexican you tied up in that house in Zaragoza. Your truck stays here. Don?t ever come in this county again.?