The Creed of Violence - Boston Teran [14]
"They're not here yet, as you are aware."
As John Lourdes approached the desk he removed an envelope from his coat pocket. Burr took to staring out the bay window. Across the river the red cut mountains stood out against the windless blue. He set the envelope down in front of Burr.
"What is this?"
"I'd like to hire you as my attorney."
Burr took the envelope and then turned it over. He saw what was written there.
"If I was your attorney I would advise against this quixotic nightmare."
"Are you my attorney?"
Burr nodded with despair; he would take on that duty.
A car pulled into the driveway. Knox and Howell and the murderer, turned recruit. They watched Howell walk with him to the guest quarters above the garage. Rawbone was still dressed in his suit and derby.
"He looks like a gent being escorted home after a neat bout of night prowling," said Burr.
"There's a bank book in the envelope." John Lourdes went to get his duffel and weapons. "I've signed over power of attorney. Take money for your fee. The rest is for my burial beside my mother."
Burr put the envelope down. His gaunt face looked across the room and back into a silent collection of years. "I remember how you used to sit in that chair."
John Lourdes's body arched. "So you know who I am?"
"Yes ... I have my own detectives when I need them. I remember slipping you money one night and telling you your birth was-"
"A crime of chance."
"I saw the look on your face and regretted having said it."
"If that's an apology, I accept."
"He should never have come back. I warned him."
"Some men just can't help themselves."
"I hope you're not one of those men, John."
EIGHT
AWBONE WAS BY the truck, giving it a close looking-over, when John Lourdes came out of the house. He still had on that derby, but now he wore a white Mexican shirt and canvas pants tucked into some hard-traveled boots. He had a bindle slung over his shoulder and his hands were pressed flat into a native sash around his waist. Knox and Howell flanked him and when he saw John Lourdes approach he tipped his hat and said, grinning, "Doctor ... something or other ... I presume."
John Lourdes walked right past and began to stow his belongings in the truck cab.
"What was his name?" said Rawbone to no one in particular. "I remember reading about it years ago in The Herald. This gent travels all of darkest Africa looking for some famous doctor and when he finds him he's living in some shantytown with a tribe of spades and he says, `Doctor so and so, I presume.' What the hell was his name?"
John Lourdes walked past him again. He joined Knox and Howell, who stood off a few yards, and they finalized plans. While he was alone Rawbone leaned around and tried to inconspicuously look down into the back of the cab housing to see if a weapon he'd nested away was still there.
The men finished their talk and shook hands. Rawbone eased away from the cab as John Lourdes approached him and said, "Get in the truck. I'll drive."
"Aye, sir," said Rawbone.
The truck rumbled out of the weeded lot, then down the driveway and past the veranda where Burr now stood watching. He had a gray stare for both men, and implicit at the heart of it was how flaws in the world so shaped human destiny.
Rawbone leaned out the cab window and called to his friend, "When I've done my penance I'll come back and then you and I can gent up and get some sinning under our belt."
He sat back and told John Lourdes, "If you ever need a righteous good attorney, he's your man. That son-of-a-bitch could have gotten Christ off."
"I can imagine," said John Lourdes, "as he seems to have done alright for Satan."
THEY DROVE IN silence through the city, then turned onto a road that led past Fort Bliss. Their destination, according to Rawbone, was somewhere in the Hueco Mountains where the arms were hidden away.
The truck scaled a rutted series of low and gravel-faced escarpments from which they could look back and see El Paso. The Rio Grande