Read Online The Falling Away by Hines - Free Book Online

Couture sat at a small Formica table in the kitchen with their coffee cups in front of them.
    Dylan put the money on the table in front of Couture, nodded.
    â€œThanks again,” he said.
    Couture drank from his cup, set it back down, made no move to take the money. “ De nada .”
    Andrew giggled. “You hear that? Veterinarian Assiniboine who speaks Spanish. That’s bilingual. You don’t see that on the Discovery Channel.”
    â€œWhat do you see on the Discovery Channel?”
    â€œDon’t know. Never watch it.”
    â€œLooks like you need a new coat,” Couture said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œNew coat.” He nodded at the front of Dylan’s ski jacket. “You put a hole in that one.”
    Dylan looked down. A neat puncture, the size of a dime, laced his right pocket; some of the coat’s insulation leaked out. He’d forgotten that he’d taken the first shot with the .357 through his coat pocket.
    â€œYou can take the jacket on the chair over there.”
    Dylan turned, saw a black nylon jacket thrown haphazardly on a flowered recliner across the living room from the couch.
    â€œThanks,” he said, retrieving it.
    â€œWhere you headed?” Couture asked.
    â€œStill working on that.”
    â€œYou’re marked,” Couture said, staring.
    Andrew smiled, turned to look at Couture. “Yeah,” he said. “Dead Man Walking. You get a white boy shot on the rez, you’re definitely a marked man.”
    â€œNo, not like that,” Couture said. “My grandmother, she called it the mark. But that’s not really your word for it, is it?” He stared at Dylan. “You call it chosen.” He took another drag on his cigarette.
    Dylan felt his bad leg buckle, and his good one along with it. He stumbled, almost going down before regaining his balance. “What did you say?” he whispered, hoping he’d heard Couture wrong.
    â€œMy grandmother, she had this sense that let her . . . see inside other people,” Couture said, sounding almost disinterested. “See their souls, I guess you could say. But she told me about this woman she met once, a woman she said was marked.”
    â€œWhat did marked mean?” Dylan asked.
    â€œMeant the woman’s soul was dark to her. Meant she couldn’t see inside. Meant the woman was someone special.” Couture exhaled a long stream of smoke. “Chosen.”
    â€œWhat happened to the marked woman?”
    Couture smiled grimly. “She killed herself.”
    Andrew was oddly quiet, as was Joni. Dylan heard a strong gust of wind run across the metal roof of the trailer.
    Couture motioned at him, cigarette clenched between his fingers. “My grandma knew I had the sense too. Told me I needed to watch for the day I might come across someone marked. Someone chosen. Warn them.”
    â€œWarn them of what?”
    â€œWarn them that evil would always look for them. And always find them.”
    Andrew recovered before Dylan could. “Well, I guess Couture here is a big medicine man after all,” he said, smiling. Except the smile looked a bit more painted on than usual. “I’d be worried about you looking into my soul, but I don’t have one.”
    Couture shot him a hard glance. “That’s why I work with animals,” he said quietly. “You don’t see inside them.”
    Couture suddenly seemed drained. He stared at his ashtray, his eyes watery and vacant.
    â€œHow about a cuppa joe to go?” Andrew asked, evidently feeling the need to change the subject, to get past the odd scene that had just taken place. Feeling the need to get Dylan out of there.
    Dylan was just as happy to drop it. His leg had healed after Iraq, yes, but his memories of Claussen would never heal. Talk about being chosen only stirred up those memories.
    â€œCoffee,” he said. “Yeah, that’d be good.”
    Andrew rose quickly, moved to