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When I had spoken to Cady last night, she had still been at the office library in the basement. I felt sorry for her till she told me the basement was on the twenty-eighth floor.
I had warned her that lawyers shouldn’t marry other lawyers, that it only led to imbecile paralegals.
“Kids have gotten a little jaded since Cady’s generation, Walter.”
“I been here two years. How come they never fucking asked me?” I set my glass back down. “It’s hard to read nursery rhymes with a tape delay.”
“Thinking you’re not in trouble and not being in trouble are two different things.”
“When they’re little, you wonder what they’re going to be, and when they grow up you just want them to be happy.”
“We call it mugging. Out where I’m from, if you’ve got a horse with too much spirit, you just tie it to a mule for the night. When you come back the next morning, you’ll have a different horse.”
“No, I was just thinking. I do that, sometimes, before I talk.” Lena smiled, this time with her entire mouth. “Not me, robs the evening of all its spontaneity. A little wine, a little truth, and pretty soon you’ve got a real conversation on your hands.”
“You were in the military?” I raised a weak fist. “Remember the Maine.”
the smooth, steady movement of my actions raised a sliver of panic in the rational man who was abandoning me.
I opened my coffee and looked at the decisively dark brew. “This looks strong.” “Espresso, tall, double-shot. I thought you could use it.” She looked at me. “How’s she doing?” I took a sip and swallowed most of the enamel from my teeth.
“Do all the larger law firms have sky boxes?” “I’m not sure. Why?” “Do Schomberg, Calder, Dallin, and Rhind have a box?” It’s thinking like this that kicked Custer’s ass.
numerous and assorted messages from practically everybody in the Cowboy State. Most of them were from Ruby and Vic, but there were also ones from the Ferg, Lucian, Sancho, Double Tough, Vern Selby, Dorothy, Lonnie Little Bird, Brandon White Buffalo, Dena Many Camps, Omar, Isaac Bloomfield, and Lana Baroja.
Far beyond the badges and the guns, hope and laughter were their most powerful weapons.
My father was a blacksmith and had told me when I was a little boy that the beasts of the field didn’t feel pain the way we humans did. I remember not believing him then, and I still didn’t.
