Rain Gods (Hackberry Holland 2)

?That I?m not bothered because Mrs. Dolan got upset and attacked me??

?In a word, yeah.?

?Mrs. Dolan is Jewish royalty. For some, a woman is a pair of thighs and breasts, something you can put your seed in so she can wash it out. But I don?t think you?re that kind, Bobby Lee.?

Bobby Lee let the image slide off his face. ?I got to ask you something.?

?Is my mother really buried under this tent??

?That?s part of it.?

?What?s the rest??

?Like what happened to her??

?How did she end her days??

?Yeah, I mean like she got sick or she was old or she got hurt in an accident??

?That?s a complex question. See, I?m not sure if she?s under this tent, or if only part of her is. I buried her after a hard freeze. I had to build a fire on the ground and use a pickax to chop the grave. So I didn?t go very deep with it. Not knowing a lot back then about predators and such, I didn?t cover the mound with stones. When I came back a year later, critters had dug her up and strung her around about forty or fifty yards. I put what I could back in the hole and packed the dirt down tight, but to tell the truth, I?m not sure how much of her is down there. There were a lot of other bones around.?

?Jack, did you??

?What??

?Shit happens. Like did you have to do something to your mother??

?Yeah, it does. Get me a refill, will you? My leg is hurting.?

Bobby Lee went outside with Preacher?s cup just as the Mexican carpenters arrived to resume the framing on Preacher?s house. Bobby Lee went back inside the tent, forgetting to add either sugar or condensed milk to the cup. Preacher was staring into space, his expression like a blunted ax blade. He took the cup from Bobby Lee?s hand. The coffee was even hotter now than when Bobby Lee had first made it.

?Answer the question, Jack.?

?Did I kill my own mother? Good God, son, what kind of person do you think I am? Let me show you something.? Preacher picked up the splayed deck from the writing table and squared the cards between his palms. He turned up the dealer?s hole card and looked at it blankly. It was the ace of spades. The imaginary player?s two cards were a ten and an ace of hearts. Preacher squeezed the top card off the deck with his thumb and flopped it faceup on top of the dealer?s ace. ?Queen of spades,? he said. ?Blackjack. See, the story is already written, Bobby Lee. A fellow just has to be patient, and his queen comes along.?

?You actually let the Gaddis girl spit on you??

Preacher placed his tin cup to his mouth and drank it to the bottom without ever flinching, his lips discoloring from the intense heat. He thought for a long time and pulled at the corner of his eye. ?She did it because she was scared. I don?t fault her for it. Besides, she?s not the woman I want or I?m supposed to have.?

?I never can figure you out.?

?Life is a flat-out puzzle, isn?t it?? Preacher said.

?CAN YOU CLIP a horse?s feet?? Hackberry said.

Pete was mucking out a stall in the back of the barn with a broad-billed coal shovel. He straightened from his work, his skin and hair damp in the gloom. ?Sir??

Hackberry repeated the question.

?I?ve done it once or twice,? Pete said.

?Good, you can help me now. You ever give a horse his penile procedure??

?I don?t remember.?

?You?d remember.?

They put headstalls on both colts and tethered one to the hitching post in front of the barn and walked the palomino named Love That Santa Fe around the side into the shade.