Excerpt
“Has something changed? Has Clarkson broken a law? He
came to see you. Does it have something to do with that?”
“Too many questions. What’s changed is that I’m going to stop
screwing around with this. I want action, and Clarkson’s the first
step.”
“Well,” Spanger said, “there are just two troubling little points.
He hasn’t done anything illegal, and I won’t arrest innocent people.
That hasn’t changed. I can’t follow your order, Mr. Mayor.”
“If you don’t, Chief Spanger, I’ll see to this Engine Fred, and
then I’ll figure out the police chief problem. You think about that.
Think hard about it.”
“Pete, I’ve done most of my thinking about that. I’ll talk with
you again when you’re rational.”
“I’ve never been more rational.”
The last intimation of the day’s light was gone from behind the rock
formations along the foothills. High clouds moved in from the west,
blackening the sky. Engine Fred wondered if he saw the outline of
the saddle-shaped outcropping or his brain was reproducing the
memory of it on the backs of his eyes like film projected on a screen.
He walked a few feet from the cabin, stretched and looked back.
Poodie was in the doorway silhouetted in the glow of the kerosene
lamp. Fred waved assurance. Poodie waggled his arm and closed the
door. When the lamp went out, Fred turned back toward the hills.
He stood feeling the darkness and cool air envelop him, grateful for
the solitude, his mind loosening from the concentration of the chess
game. The throb of an idling engine drifted in, a diesel on the track
beyond the jungle. Cricket sounds rose from the field. An owl delivered
its mournful announcement. What a creature, he thought,
what an amazing creature, the owl. It was time for this business with
the mayor to be done, time for him to go home. It was time to end
the aimless career of Engine Fred and, in the years he had left, give
his wife all of his attention. He filled his pipe, tamped it, and slowly
walked toward the path to the jungle, wondering how soon Ned
Pease would gather in the loose ends of the story he had handed…
Libros Libertad 