Read Online Bad to the Bone by Len Levinson - Free Book Online Page B

wept into her handkerchief, overwhelmed by the tragedy of life. Why do people have to die? she asked. What kind of strange horrid world do we live in, where our greatest achievements are made meaningless and even laughable by the plain ugly fact of death? Why do we have to live in the first place? What does it all mean?
    Young Doña Consuelo was suffering her first crisis of faith, and it felt as if the world were disintegrating. She saw clearly the underlying truth that no one wanted to countenance: all living creatures were marching toward the grave, and when Sister Death struck, it was often quite painful, lingering, and dreadful for all concerned. Whether you live in the hacienda or the poorest shack in the village, we all end up in the same hole in the ground, and our lives are mere gusts of wind on the desert of time, deliberated Doña Consuelo.
    She arose from the chair and wandered toward her room. One day this place will be dust too, and a new civilization will come on the heels of ours. All we can do is trust in God and follow His commandments. She noticed movement at the end of the corridor. Someone was wandering about, wearing black Mexican pants and a ruffled white shirt. “Who's there?”
    â€œIt's me,” said Duane Braddock, “and I was looking for the library.”
    Doña Consuelo stared at him in the darkness, because she barely recognized him, clean-shaven in new clothes. He had a smooth, well-formed jawline,high cheekbones, and appeared extremely handsome. “It's at the back of the house. I'd be happy to show you where it is. You look so different without your beard.”
    â€œIt's a chore to shave while you're living outdoors.”
    He reminded her of a painting of Jesus Christ by Jose de Ribera, the great baroque Spanish artist. Duane's Mexican suit appeared tailormade for his body; the pants were flared at the bottom, while his shirt had wide flowing sleeves. She noticed that he was carrying his pistol, as if he expected the U.S. Army to show up at any moment. There was something gentle and child-like about him, and he had soft eyes like a woman. My God, I wouldn't be surprised if he was the best-looking man I've ever seen in my life!
    The thought delighted her, as she glanced at him side-ways. Meanwhile, he stole a glimpse of her. Their eyes met for a brief shining instant, then both turned away.
    â€œWhat were you doing in the corridor?” he asked.
    â€œI've just left my mother's bedroom. She doesn't have much more time, and to tell you the truth, I don't know how I'll get along without her. Is your mother still alive?”
    â€œNo, she died about seventeen years ago.”
    â€œDo you miss her?”
    â€œI hardly ever knew her, or my father either.”
    She wrinkled her pretty brow, as she came abreast of a door. “What a strange person you must be. Coincidently, this is the entrance to our chapel. Would you mind if I stopped a moment and said a prayer for my mother?”
    â€œI'll pray with you,” replied Duane. “Lord knows, I've got a few things I worry about, too.”
    They entered the worship space, which was morecapacious than churches in many small towns. It had stained glass windows, with a nave, transept and apse, and candles burning before statues of saints. They knelt in a pew, and Duane crossed himself reverently, clasped his hands together, and glanced at Doña Consuelo out the corner of his eye.
    She was perched on her knees beside him, her hips and shoulders nearly touching his, her head bent forward, eyes closed in prayer. This is a fine, religious woman, he concluded, as he imagined her voluptuous nakedness, skin smooth as satin, and pink rosebuds on her breasts. Then he turned away, plagued by guilt and shame. The mere thought of her naked legs caused him to swoon, and he couldn't suppress a soft moan of desire.
    â€œAre you all right?” she asked as she turned toward him abruptly. “Perhaps you'd better sit