The soldier tries to lean his rifle between the seat and the wall of the compartment, but the movement of the train makes this impossible. So he sits down and lays the rifle across his legs and the seat next to him, along with the helmet.
Jimmy points to the weapon and says:
“Not like that, my son. I repeat: you cannot be armed if you wish to speak with a representative of our Lord.”
The soldier looks confused, it seems he had a difficult time deciding to approach the priest, and now he doesn’t know what to do with his rifle.
“Don Tino,” Jimmy orders, “take this good man’s gun and hold onto it out there in the corridor. And keep still, I don’t want you to hurt yourself with it.”
The soldier seems relieved. Clemen goes out to the corridor, sits on the floor with his knees up, and holds the barrel of the rifle, resting the butt on the floor.
“Pray speak, son,” Jimmy says.
“Nobody’s listening?” asks the soldier, turning to look at Clemen, then leaning over in the seat to get closer to Jimmy.
“No, my son, not with this racket,” Jimmy answers, also leaning toward the soldier. “Don’t worry. ”
The soldier scratches his head nervously, his eyes glued on the floor.
“What is your name, my son?”
“Eulalio. ”
Then he stops; he takes a deep breath, as if trying to muster his courage.
“Why don’t you confess, my son? It’s easier. ”
“I can’t, Father,” he says, then turns and looks where Clemen is sitting.
“Why can’t you? Of course, you can. I am here. And the Lord always listens to the faithful.”
“It’s just that it’s not something that’s happening to me,” he says, stammering, “but to my brother.”
Jimmy looks at him with a stern expression; he doesn’t speak.
“That’s why I can’t confess.,” he says.
“You’re not hiding behind your brother, are you, son? That would be a very serious sin.”
“No, Father,” he answers, his eyes still staring at the ground.
“Look at me, son. ”
The soldier lifts his head; he looks Jimmy in the eyes for a few seconds, then turns to look out the window, uncomfortable.
At that moment Clemen jumps up, frightened. They both turn to look: the other soldier rushes into the compartment.
“Hoot’s gotten away,” the dark-skinned guard exclaims in alarm.
“I have to go, Father,” Eulalio says, getting up.
“Come back afterward, son, so we can finish.,” Jimmy tells him.
“Where are you going?”
“Usulután, but first we’re stopping off at La Carrera Hacienda. ”
“I’ll be back if I have time,” he says, his helmet already on, as he grabs the rifle Clemen holds out to him.
Jimmy takes a medal with a picture of the Virgin out of the pocket of his cassock; he holds it out to Eulalio and says:
“Pray to the Virgin, she will guide you. ”
“Thank you, Father,” he says and rushes out after his partner, down the corridor.
Clemen remains standing until he makes sure the soldiers have left; then he comes and sits down in his seat.
“What did that jerk want?” he asks anxiously.
“The secrecy of confession is sacred, Brother,” Jimmy says.
“Don’t fuck with me. Tell me,” he insists, raising his voice, “I was shitting myself out there. ”
Jimmy energetically motions to him to keep his voice down; Clemen turns to look at the door of the compartment: nobody’s there.
“To confess,” Jimmy says. “But he didn’t have the courage. or the time.”
“I can’t believe it,” Clemen says.
“Soldiers also confess.”
“It’s not that.”
“So, what is it?”
“Forget it. How much longer?”
The train has descended into the valley. The engine whistles, then takes off full steam ahead.
Jimmy takes out his pocket watch.
“We’ll reach San Marcos Lempa in about half an hour,” he says. “It’s another half hour from there to the hacienda.”
The warm wind of the valley swirls through the compartment.
3
“Very impressive!” Mono Harris exclaims with admiration. “I actually didn’t recognize you.”
They are in a large luxuriously furnished living room, sitting in armchairs around a table where there’s a bottle of whiskey, a pitcher of water, and an ice bucket; through a large picture window can be seen other buildings — sheds, processing plants, sleeping quarters — and a parking lot, and cotton fields that stretch to the horizon. This is the manor house of the hacienda.
“Well-planned, wouldn’t you say?” Clemen brags, gulping down the whiskey left in his glass.
“Very well-planned,” says Mono Harris. “Nobody would have recognized you.”
“Ah. this tastes so good,” Clemen says, licking his lips, and lunging at the table to pour himself more.
“Where were you all this time?” Mono Harris asks, still in astonishment. He has pale skin, graying sideburns, a bulbous nose, and green eyes; he’s wearing blue mechanic’s overalls.
“Near Cojutepeque,” Clemen says, “locked up in an attic.”
“I can’t believe it!”
“Yup,” Clemen exclaims, settling back comfortably in his big chair, his glass on his lap. “Six days stuck there.”
“Why didn’t you come sooner?”
A tractor rumbles into the parking lot.
“It was better to wait till Holy Week was over,” Jimmy explains, “so it would seem more natural that we were traveling. And we were hoping to get false papers, but there was no way. ”
“Anyway, we had to give this one a tonsure and train him to become a priest,” Clemen explains mockingly. “What’s fucked up is that he can’t stop playing the part, and he keeps saying Mass. ”
“I’m a much better actor than you are, you can’t deny it.,” says Jimmy, rubbing his upper lip where he used to have a mustache.
“You’re excellent,” Mono Harris interjects. “Until you told me who you were, I didn’t recognize you.”
“Whereas this one, the man himself,” Jimmy says, gesturing with his thumb at Clemen, “the only thing he could do to make himself look like a sacristan was to act like a mongoloid, which is a cinch for him. ”
Mono Harris chuckles.
“Eat shit.,” Clemen says, without losing his sense of humor.
“Tell him about the drunk.,” Jimmy says, laughing.
“This asshole came looking for a fight, and I punched him in the gut. Scared the shit out of him because he thought he was dealing with some dumb sacristan. So don’t go on about how you’re a better actor than me.”
“You don’t even come up to here on me, look,” Jimmy says and makes a cutting movement with his hand at the level of his knees. Then he turns to Mono Harris and says boastfully, “One of the soldiers on the train wanted to confess to me.”
“You’re kidding! That’s incredible!. A toast!”
They toast and drink.
“What did he confess?”
“Nothing, in the end he held back, but here at the station he very politely helped me off the train,” Jimmy says, smiling.
“I don’t believe it!” Mono Harris exclaims.
“Yup,” Clemen interjects. “‘Thank you so much for everything, Father.,’” he adds, imitating the chubby soldier, and letting out a laugh.
“The soldiers knew you were coming here?” Mono Harris asks, suddenly wary.
“Yeah, it was unavoidable,” Jimmy says. “But there’s no problem; they didn’t suspect us at all. And the idea is to get out immediately, as soon as we finish our drinks, if that’s possible.”