They walked up Tenth Street, past the darkened doors of Chief Logans Tavern. On the sidewalk, there was a splatter of vomit in the shape of a daisy. They stepped around it.
The two walked fast and spoke to one another about the books Staples loaned him. The American Indian was up for discussion. Ledford had not known such thought and conversation possible until meeting Don, and ever since, it seemed to him that his mind was expanding faster than it had in all the years prior, combined. Theyd had conversations, like this one, that lasted five or six hours. Don had waxed knowingly on the laws of the Confederacy of the Iroquois. He spoke of the Indian League of Nations and their General Councils democratic ideals. He liked to say that nothing was new, that we spent our days committing the mistakes of those who came before us because we forgot to remember them. He liked to say, America will grab hold of the scientists lab coat, and they will hold on for dear life as he rockets us straight to Hades.
On this cold night, he answered Ledfords question on work. On deeds. Staples said, Look here. Thou art the doer, I am the instrument. And this is real important for you, Ledford, because youre the type that needs to keep himself busy. The tip of his nose was red from the chill, and there was pipe ash caught in his beard. Now, busy like a businessman isnt going to cut it. Nossir. Youve got to be busy like a bee, in the ser vice of something besides I. See what I mean? He grabbed Ledford by the coat sleeve and kept walking. You will only beat back whats chasing you if you forget about yourself. You work for your family, for your God, for those around you that need it most. Never for yourself. He put his hands back in his pockets. Shouldve worn my gloves, he said.
Ledford flicked the cherry off his cigarette one-handed and stuck the butt in his pocket. But what if the work a man does isnt real?
Hows that?
Office work, Ledford said. Im not workin for anybody but those whose pockets is already lined, as far as I can figure.
Then quit, Staples answered. You dont strike me as the type to fall in with the scotch-and-bridge crowd, Ledford. Get out while you can. They were coming up on Fifth Avenue, Rachels Episcopal church. Lets double back on Sixth, Staples said.
The younger man had questions. Were you ever
Staples had stopped walking.
Ledford turned back to him. Staples was squint-eyed and studying the church. Ledford looked there and saw, huddled against the double doors, the outline of a man.
That doesnt seem right, Staples said. He ascended the staircase. Ledford followed. The mans hand protruded from his shirtsleeve at a peculiar angle, pale and knuckled against the concrete. His neck bent hard against the door, and his winter coat lay beside him in a heap. Thats a dead man, Staples said as they got within five feet.