Rain Gods (Hackberry Holland 2)

He tried to pry her hands from his arm. ?I can make that boulder over yonder, then head up the arroyo.?

?I?ll follow you if you do.?

There was nothing for it. ?We cross the creek and get into the cottonwoods. Then we go through the back door of the church and out the front.?

?What about the black people?? she said.

?We?re out of choices,? he replied.

THE TWO MEN had followed the couple down below by first climbing the hill and then walking the ridgeline, peeking over the summit when necessary, threading their way through rocks and twisted juniper trunks that had been bleached gray by the sun. One of the men carried a bolt-action rifle on a leather sling. A large telescopic sight was mounted above the chamber, the front lens capped with a dustcover. Both men were breathing hard and sweating heavily and trying to avoid looking directly into the western sun.

They couldn?t believe their bad luck when they crawled up to the edge of the summit and saw the couple walking under a willow tree.

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?We stumbled into a colored baptism,? the man with the rifle said.

?Keep the larger picture in mind, T-Bone. Let the coloreds take care of themselves,? the other man said.

T-Bone peered through his telescopic sight and saw a flash of skin through the branches. He activated his laser and moved it across the leaves until it lit upon the side of someone?s face. Then the wind gusted and the target disappeared. He paused and tried again, but all he could see was the pale green uniformity of the tree?s canopy. ?I?d scrub this one, Hugo,? he said.

?You?re not me,? Hugo said. His browned skin was powdered with dust so that the whites of his eyes looked stark and theatrical in his face. He folded a handkerchief in a square and positioned it on a rock so he could kneel without causing himself more discomfort than necessary. He drummed his fingers on a piece of slag and took the measure of the man he was with, his impatience and irritability barely restrained. ?Keep your head down, T-Bone.?

?That?s what we?ve been doing. My back feels like the spring on a jack-in-the-box.?

?Don?t silhouette on a hill, and don?t let the sunlight reflect on your face. It?s like looking up at an airplane. You might as well be a signal mirror. Another basic infantry lesson?you shouldn?t have all that civilian jewelry on you.?

?Thanks for passing that on, Hugo. But I say we wait till dark and start over at the house.?

Hugo didn?t reply. He was wondering if they could work their way down the arroyo for at least two clear shots, then get back over the ridge and down to their vehicle before the black people realized what had happened in their midst.

?Did you hear what I said?? T-Bone asked.

?Yes, I did. We take them now.?

?I just don?t get what?s going on. Why?d Preacher and Bobby Lee turn on us? Why didn?t they pop the kid and his girl when they had the chance??

?Because Preacher is a maniac, and Bobby Lee is a treacherous little shit.?

?So we?re doing this for Arthur Rooney??

?Don?t fret yourself about it.?

?Those bikers Preacher hosed down??

?What about them??

?They worked for Josef Sholokoff??

?Could be, but they?re not our concern,? Hugo said, cupping his hand on T-Bone?s shoulder. T-Bone had sweated through his clothes, and his shirt felt as soggy as a wet washcloth. Hugo wiped his palm on his trousers. He looked down at the top of the willow tree and at the sandy-red stream and at the black minister and his congregants, who seemed distracted by something the white couple were doing.

?Get ready,? Hugo said.

?For what??

?Our friends are about to make their move. Put a little more of your heart in it. That boy down there made a fool out of you, didn?t he??

?I never said that. I said Bobby Lee double-crossed us. I never said anybody made a fool out of me. People don?t make a fool out of me.?