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Product description Book by Lowell, Elizabeth Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Always Time to DieBy Elizabeth LowellSound LibraryCopyright © 2005Elizabeth LowellAll right reserved.ISBN: 9780792736486Chapter OneNear TaosSunday MorningTwo men squinted against the wind and stared down at the Quintrell family graveyard. It lay a few hundred yards below and six hundred feetaway from the base of the long, ragged ridge where they stood. A whitewrought-iron fence enclosed the graveyard, as though death could bekept away from the living by such a simple thing.At the edge of the valley, piñons grew black against a thin veneer of snow. Cottonwood branches along the valley creek had been strippedby winter to their thin, pale skin. In the black-and-white landscape, aragged rectangle and a nearby tarp-covered mound of loose red dirtlooked out of place. Three ravens squatted on the tarp like guests waitingto be served. A polished casket hovered astride the newly dug grave,ready to be lowered at a signal from the minister.The first of the funeral procession drove up and stopped outside theornate white fence. There wouldn't be many cars, because the gravesideservice was limited to clergy and immediate members of the Senator'sfamily. The public service had been yesterday, in Santa Fe,complete with a media circus where the famous and the merely notoriousexchanged Cheshire cat grins and firm handshakes and careful lieswhile the smell of dying flowers overwhelmed the stately cathedral.Automatically Daniel Duran looked over his shoulder, checking thathis silhouette was still invisible from below, lost against a tall pine. Itwas. So was his father's.He and John weren't famous or notorious. They hadn't been invitedto either the memorial or funeral service for the dead man everyonecalled the Senator. The lack of invitations didn't matter to Dan. Hewouldn't have gone anyway.So why am I here?It was a good question. He didn't have an answer. He wasn't evensure he wanted one.The wind rushing down from the harsh peaks of the Sangre deCristo Mountains tasted of snow and distance and the kind of time thatmade most people uncomfortable. Deep time. Unimaginable time.Time so great it reduced humanity to an amusing footnote in Earth'sfour-billion-year history.Dan liked that kind of time. Humans were amusing. Laughable. Itwas the only way to stay sane.And that was something he'd promised himself he wouldn't thinkabout for a few months. Staying sane.If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs, chances areyou don't understand the situation. Why else would ignorance be called bliss?With a grim smile he turned so that his injured leg didn't take theforce of the brutal wind."You should have stayed hom e," John Duran said.Dan gave his father a sidelong look. "The exercise is good formy leg.""That old man never acknowledged you or your mother as kin. Hell,he barely acknowledged his own legitimate daughter."Dan shrugged and let the wind comb dark hair he hadn't bothered tohave cut in months. "I don't take it personally. He never acknowledgedany of his bastards.""So why bother hiking here for the Senator's funeral? And don'twaste your breath on the exercise excuse. You could do laps around theTaos town square with a lot less trouble."For a time there was only the sound of the ice-tipped wind scouringthe ridge. Finally Dan said, "I don't know."John grunted. He doubted that his fiercely bright son didn't knowwhy they were freezing their nuts off on Castillo Ridge watching one of New Mexico's most famous womanizers get buried. Then again,maybe Dan truly didn't know."You sure?" John asked."Yeah.""Well, that's the most hopeful thing that's happened since youturned up three months ago."Once, Dan would have smiled, but that was before pain had etchedhis face and cynicism had eroded his soul. "How so?""You cared about something enough to walk three miles in the snow."Dan's dark brown eyebrows lifted. "Have I been that bad?Book Details
Published
June 1, 2005
Publisher
Sound Library
ISBN
9780792736486