Jacaranda
“the Ranger asked the padre. He still pretended not to see the world spiraling into darkness outside those enormous windows. “Why are you here? The nun called for you, I know, but it’s more than that. I bet.”
Juan Rios didn’t see much point in lying. “I killed thirteen men in a church.”
“Bullshit, now.”
“They were bandits. They came to rob, rape, and murder. I stopped them, and I…” he paused, and let the wind shriek through the hesitation. “I told myself that it was right, but it was not. I did not have faith enough. I took…” he chose an English expression, one he’d come to like. “I took matters into my own hands, when I should have left them in God’s.”
“But the broken promise…there must be one in your story someplace. Everybody else has one,” the Ranger said, glancing down at his notebook.
“My promise was to the Mother. I told her I wouldn’t touch the guns again. It was part of my oath, when I took my vows.”
“But you kept the guns anyway?
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