BooksBarbecue
Back Passage West
Chapters (59)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. Cast of Characters
  5. Part One
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. Letters
  14. Part Two
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. Letters
  26. Part Three
  27. 18
  28. 19
  29. 20
  30. 21
  31. 22
  32. 23
  33. Letters
  34. Part Four
  35. 24
  36. 25
  37. 26
  38. 27
  39. 28
  40. Letters
  41. Part Five
  42. 29
  43. 30
  44. 31
  45. 32
  46. 33
  47. 34
  48. 35
  49. 36
  50. 37
  51. 38
  52. 39
  53. 40
  54. 41
  55. Epilogue
  56. Acknowledgments
  57. About the Author
  58. Also by Rishi Reddi
  59. About the Publisher

“You would have done the same. He was robbing from me. Robbing!”

The sheriff pulled Karak off the crate. “You’re under arrest,” he said roughly, placing him in handcuffs, walking him to the car.

“I know, Sheriff, I know. But go see to Clive! See to him!”

Ram waited. He thought Sheriff Fielding would come for him too, but he did not. Another police car with two officers inside turned onto the dirt road. The sheriff shouted instructions for them to stay with Hollins and climbed into his Model T. Jivan was standing near the sheriff’s motorcar. Ram stumbled toward him.

The vehicle’s window was open. Jivan placed his hand on the door. “Where will you hold him, Sheriff? Not Fredonia?” Jivan said. “You won’t hold him in Fredonia!”

“I can’t take him to El Centro until the morning,” the sheriff said, leaning out the window, one hand on the steering wheel. He sounded so weary. “They had a jailbreak there.” Lines had appeared on his forehead, around his eyes, but he gazed at Jivan evenly.

“Frank,” Jivan said, hanging on the car window, his eyes wide with alarm, “everyone is respecting you in this town. I know.” His voice was high pitched, desperate. His hand trembled as he grasped the handle of the door. “But at the jailhouse? Please! Please—”

Karak leaned forward, staring at Ram from the back seat, strangely calm, as if the men were speaking of someone else.

“I’ll watch ’m,” the sheriff said. “You have my word. I know about those boys from the lodge—”

Jivan gave a miniscule shake of his head. The automobile inched forward before his hand released the window, then the car stopped again.

“John,” the sheriff said quietly, and Jivan stepped toward him once more. “Damn Karak for being a hothead,” the sheriff said. “Get yourself a good lawyer. Try Clarence Simms. You didn’t hear that from me.”

34

AFTER RAM HAD WASHED CLIVE’S BLOOD FROM HIS OWN BODY, AFTER Deputy Hollins’s notes were taken and the grounds searched and Clive’s body removed, the farm was deserted. A ghost farm. There was no sign of Adela. Even Alejandro was gone. All the workers had run from the field after the killing. The police had set out into the desert, trying to find witnesses to question.

Ram did not know if they found anyone. And even if someone were found, he didn’t know if the worker would talk to the police.

Lettuce littered the field, half-harvested. Consolidated’s abandoned truck stood near the packing shed. In Alejandro’s camp, tin plates lay scattered about. Adela’s stove had been knocked on its side. The Singhs’ wagon was still hitched to the mules. They hung their heads in the heat but balked when Ram approached. Ram unhitched the animals patiently, took them to their shed, and watered and fed them.