funeral home and arranged to have Wo z cremated without delay. She said, "What do you think?"
"About what?" Lourdes said.
"Having the fucker burned." She said she was stopping to see friends and wouldn't b e home until late.
One A . M ., following an informal evening o f drinks with old friends, Mrs. Mahmood came into the kitche n from the garage and began to lose her glow.
What was going on here?
Rum and mixes on the counter, limes, a bowl of ice. A Latin beat coming from the patio. She followed the sound to a ring of burning candles, to Lourdes in a green swimsuit moving in one place to the beat, hands raised, Lourdes grinding her hips in a subtle way.
The two guys at the table smoking cigarettes saw Mrs.
Mahmood, but made no move to get up.
Now Lourdes turned from them and saw her, Lourdes smiling a little as she said, "How you doing? You look like you feeling no pain."
"You have my suit on," Mrs. Mahmood said.
"I put on my yellow one," Lourdes said, still moving i n that subtle way, "and took it off. I don't wear yellow no more , so I borrow one of yours. Is okay, isn' it?"
Mrs. Mahmood said, "What's going on?"
"This is cumbia, Colombian music for when you want to celebrate. For a wedding, a funeral, anything you want. The candles are part of it. Cumbia, you should always light candles."
Mrs. Mahmood said, "Yeah, but what is going on?"
"We having a party for you, Ginger. The Colombian guy s come to see you dance."
*
*
FIRE IN THE HOLE.
They had dug coal together as young men an d then lost touch over the years. Now it looke d like they'd be meeting again, this time as lawma n and felon, Raylan Givens and Boyd Crowder.
Boyd did six years in a federal penitentiary fo r refusing to pay his income tax, came out an d found religion. He received his ordination by mai l order from a Bible college in South Carolina an d formed a sect he called Christian Aggression. Th e next thing he did, Boyd formed the East Kentucky Militia with a cadre of neo-Nazi skinheads, a bunch of boys wearing Doc Martens and swastika tattoos. They were all natural-born racists and haters of authority, but still had to be taugh t what Boyd called "the laws of White Supremac y as laid down by the Lord," which he took fro m Christian Identity doctrines. Next thing, h e trained these boys in the use of explosives an d automatic weapons. He told them they were no w members of Crowder's Commandos, sworn to take up the fight for freedom against the coming Mongrel World Orde r and the govermint's illegal tax laws.
Boyd said he would kill the next man tried to make hi m pay income tax.
The skinheads accepted Boyd as the real thing, his havin g seen combat. Boyd had caught the tail end of Vietnam, cam e back with three pairs of Charlie's ears on silver chains and a n Air CAV insignia on his arm, the tat faded from having bee n there now some twenty-five years.
Raylan Givens, a few years younger than Boyd, was now a deputy United States marshal. Raylan was known as the on e who'd shot it out with a Miami gangster named Tomm y Bucks--also known as the Zip--both men seated at the sam e table in the dining area of the Cardozo Hotel, South Beach , when they drew their pistols. Raylan had told the Zip he ha d twenty-four hours to get out of Dade County or he woul d shoot him on sight. When the Zip failed to comply, Rayla n kept his word, shot him through china and glassware from n o more than six feet away.
The day the Marshals Service assigned Raylan to a Specia l Operations Group and transferred him from Florida to Harla n County, Kentucky, Boyd Crowder was on his way to Cincinnati to blow up the IRS office in the federal building.
II.
Boyd was making the run in a new Chevy Blazer , all mud from wheels to roof after coming out of the hollow s and forks of East Kentucky. The Blazer belonged to his skin-W h ead driver, a new boy named Jared who'd just finished hi s sixty-day basic training and indoctrination, a skinhead fro m Oklahoma. Boyd said
"About what?" Lourdes said.
"Having the fucker burned." She said she was stopping to see friends and wouldn't b e home until late.
One A . M ., following an informal evening o f drinks with old friends, Mrs. Mahmood came into the kitche n from the garage and began to lose her glow.
What was going on here?
Rum and mixes on the counter, limes, a bowl of ice. A Latin beat coming from the patio. She followed the sound to a ring of burning candles, to Lourdes in a green swimsuit moving in one place to the beat, hands raised, Lourdes grinding her hips in a subtle way.
The two guys at the table smoking cigarettes saw Mrs.
Mahmood, but made no move to get up.
Now Lourdes turned from them and saw her, Lourdes smiling a little as she said, "How you doing? You look like you feeling no pain."
"You have my suit on," Mrs. Mahmood said.
"I put on my yellow one," Lourdes said, still moving i n that subtle way, "and took it off. I don't wear yellow no more , so I borrow one of yours. Is okay, isn' it?"
Mrs. Mahmood said, "What's going on?"
"This is cumbia, Colombian music for when you want to celebrate. For a wedding, a funeral, anything you want. The candles are part of it. Cumbia, you should always light candles."
Mrs. Mahmood said, "Yeah, but what is going on?"
"We having a party for you, Ginger. The Colombian guy s come to see you dance."
*
*
FIRE IN THE HOLE.
They had dug coal together as young men an d then lost touch over the years. Now it looke d like they'd be meeting again, this time as lawma n and felon, Raylan Givens and Boyd Crowder.
Boyd did six years in a federal penitentiary fo r refusing to pay his income tax, came out an d found religion. He received his ordination by mai l order from a Bible college in South Carolina an d formed a sect he called Christian Aggression. Th e next thing he did, Boyd formed the East Kentucky Militia with a cadre of neo-Nazi skinheads, a bunch of boys wearing Doc Martens and swastika tattoos. They were all natural-born racists and haters of authority, but still had to be taugh t what Boyd called "the laws of White Supremac y as laid down by the Lord," which he took fro m Christian Identity doctrines. Next thing, h e trained these boys in the use of explosives an d automatic weapons. He told them they were no w members of Crowder's Commandos, sworn to take up the fight for freedom against the coming Mongrel World Orde r and the govermint's illegal tax laws.
Boyd said he would kill the next man tried to make hi m pay income tax.
The skinheads accepted Boyd as the real thing, his havin g seen combat. Boyd had caught the tail end of Vietnam, cam e back with three pairs of Charlie's ears on silver chains and a n Air CAV insignia on his arm, the tat faded from having bee n there now some twenty-five years.
Raylan Givens, a few years younger than Boyd, was now a deputy United States marshal. Raylan was known as the on e who'd shot it out with a Miami gangster named Tomm y Bucks--also known as the Zip--both men seated at the sam e table in the dining area of the Cardozo Hotel, South Beach , when they drew their pistols. Raylan had told the Zip he ha d twenty-four hours to get out of Dade County or he woul d shoot him on sight. When the Zip failed to comply, Rayla n kept his word, shot him through china and glassware from n o more than six feet away.
The day the Marshals Service assigned Raylan to a Specia l Operations Group and transferred him from Florida to Harla n County, Kentucky, Boyd Crowder was on his way to Cincinnati to blow up the IRS office in the federal building.
II.
Boyd was making the run in a new Chevy Blazer , all mud from wheels to roof after coming out of the hollow s and forks of East Kentucky. The Blazer belonged to his skin-W h ead driver, a new boy named Jared who'd just finished hi s sixty-day basic training and indoctrination, a skinhead fro m Oklahoma. Boyd said
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