Perhaps it was best to let it go. This morning that seemed like good advice, because he felt very well. Physically, at least. Hardly an ache or a—

“I thought’ee meant to turn in not long after I left ye, gunslinger, but Rosalita said you never came in until almost the dawn.”

Roland turned from the fence and his thoughts. Callahan was today dressed in dark pants, dark shoes, and a dark shirt with a notched collar. His cross lay upon his bosom and his crazy white hair had been partially tamed, probably with some sort of grease. He bore the gunslinger’s regard for a little while and then said, “Yesterday I gave the Holy Communion to those of the smallholds who take it. And heard their confessions. Today’s my day to go out to the ranches and do the same. There’s a goodish number of cowboys who hold to what they mostly call the Cross-way. Rosalita drives me in the buckboard, so when it comes to lunch and dinner, you must shift for yourselves.”

“We can do that,” Roland said, “but do you have a few minutes to talk to me?”

“Of course,” Callahan said. “A man who can’t stay a bit shouldn’t approach in the first place. Good advice, I think, and not just for priests.”

“Would you hear my confession?”

Callahan raised his eyebrows. “Do’ee hold to the Man Jesus, then?”

Roland shook his head. “Not a bit. Will you hear it anyway, I beg? And keep it to yourself?”

Callahan shrugged. “As to keeping what you say to myself, that’s easy. It’s what we do. Just don’t mistake discretion for absolution.” He favored Roland with a wintry smile. “We Catholics save that for ourselves, may it do ya.”

The thought of absolution had never crossed Roland’s mind, and he found the idea that he might need it (or that this man could give it) almost comic. He rolled a cigarette, doing it slowly, thinking of how to begin and how much to say. Callahan waited, respectfully quiet.

At last Roland said, “There was a prophecy that I should draw three and that we should become ka-tet. Never mind who made it; never mind anything that came before. I won’t worry that old knot, never again if I can help it. There were three doors. Behind the second was the woman who became Eddie’s wife, although she did not at that time call herself Susannah…”

Three