Billy Bob and Hackberry Holland Ebook Boxed Set by James Lee Burke Page B

available on him. What do you think?”
    â€œHe’s a nutcase. The question is whether he should be picked up.”
    â€œWyatt does things that give the impression he’s crazy. At the same time he seems to stay a step ahead of everyone else, at least he does with me. Is he dangerous? When he needs to be.”
    â€œYou seem pretty objective about a guy who kidnapped and buried your wife.”
    I paused a moment. “Two years ago I tried to kill him. I got behind him and shot at him four times with a forty-five revolver and missed.”
    Seth looked at me for a beat, then lowered his eyes. “Got a little head cold and can’t hear too well this morning. Keep me posted on this guy, will you?” he said.
    â€œYou bet. He was just in here.”
    â€œThis is quite a town,” he said.
    â€œWhy you bird-dogging Johnny American Horse, Seth?”
    â€œI’ve got to get something for this dadburn cold. My head feels like somebody poured cement in it,” he replied.
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    SOME PEOPLE HAVE no trouble with jail. In fact, they use jails like hotels, checking in and out of them when the weather is severe or if they’re down on their luck or they need to get their drug tolerance reduced so they can re-addict less expensively. But Johnny didn’t do well inside the slams.
    Fay Harback called me on Thursday. “Been over to see American Horse?” she asked.
    â€œNot since Tuesday,” I replied.
    â€œGo do it. I don’t need any soap operas in my life.”
    â€œWhat’s going on?”
    â€œI’m not unaware of Johnny’s war record. Maybe I’ve always liked him. I don’t choose the individuals I prosecute.”
    â€œYeah, you do.”
    â€œI’ll say good-bye now. But you have a serious problem, Billy Bob.”
    â€œWhat might that be?”
    â€œAn absence of charity,” she replied before hanging up.
    I put on my hat and coat and walked over to the jail in a sunshower. The trees and sidewalks were steaming in the rain and the grass on the courthouse lawn was a bright green. Upstairs a deputy walked me down to an isolation cell, where Johnny sat on the cement floor in his boxer undershorts. His knees were pulled up in front of him, his vertebrae and ribs etched against his skin.
    â€œIt’s his business if he don’t want to eat. But he stuffed his jumpsuit in a commode. We probably mopped up fifty gallons of water,” the deputy said.
    â€œIt’s pretty cold in here. How about a blanket?” I said.
    â€œI’ll bring it up with his melba toast,” the deputy said, and walked off.
    â€œWhy provoke them, Johnny?” I said.
    â€œI wouldn’t wear the jumpsuit. But it was another guy who plugged up the toilet with it.”
    â€œWhy not just tell that to somebody?”
    â€œBecause they know I’m going down for the big bounce and they couldn’t care less what I say.”
    He combed his hair back with his fingers. His hair was black and had brown streaks in it and in places was white on the ends. He looked up at me and grinned. “Dreamed about red ponies last night. Thousands of them, covering the plains, all the way to the horizon,” he said.
    â€œYou’re going to be arraigned in the morning. You have to wear jailhouse issue,” I said.
    He shrugged his shoulders. “They’re going to ask for the needle?” he said.
    â€œMaybe.”
    â€œAin’t no maybe to it, partner,” he said. His eyes seemed to glaze over with his inner thoughts.
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    AT 9 A.M. FRIDAY, Johnny stood in handcuffs before the bench and was charged with capital murder. His bond was set at two hundred thousand dollars. That afternoon I called Temple at her P.I. office.
    â€œJohnny doesn’t have the bondsman’s fee and his place has two mortgages on it,” I said.
    â€œAnd?” she said.
    â€œI’d like to put up a property bond.”
    â€œYou’re