Free Bloodville by Don Bullis Page A

desk and crossed one booted foot over the other. ―Don't worry about them. They're in good hands. Too bad you didn't think about them before you shot that poor old lady. Anybody read you your rights?‖
Bunting sat with his elbows on his thighs, his head down, staring at the floor. ―I don't know. What's that?‖
―Gallegos read them to him, Don,‖ Candelaria said. ―I was a witness to it. So was Fred Finch and Jim Mitchell.‖
―If this young man doesn't remember,‖ Wilcoxson said to the lieutenant, ―I guess I'd better tell him again. We wouldn't want to deprive anyone of his constitutional rights, would we?‖ Wilcoxson leaned over and spoke in a loud whisper directly into the young sailor's ear. ―You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney....‖ ―Oh,‖ Bunting said, leaning away from Wilcoxson as if the prosecutor had bad breath. ―That one guy told me all that out there at the roadblock.‖
Wilcoxson stood up. ―So you know that you don't have to talk to us if you don't want to.‖
―Yes sir.‖
―And you know you can have a lawyer if you want one.‖
―Yes sir.‖
―Do you want to talk to us?‖ Wilcoxson softened his approach just a little bit.
―I don't mind. I didn't do nothing wrong. I just want to get out of here, to see my wife.‖
―How long you been in the navy? Is that the United States Navy?‖
Bunting missed the sarcasm. ―Yes sir. The United States Navy. Little over five years. It's my career?‖
―Some career. What's your rank?‖
―Petty officer first class.‖
―Is that a pretty good rank?‖
―I've been in the navy for five years. It ain't too bad for only five years of service,‖ he said proudly. ―Some guys don't make it beyond seaman.‖
―But you're not an admiral, or anything like that, are you?‖
―No. I ain't even an officer.‖
―What're you doing around here?‖
―Mostly just passing through. My wife's from Acoma. Like I said: I got transferred from Massachusetts to San Diego. I'm supposed to report in on Tuesday. We stopped to visit Darlene's aunts and her brother and sister in Albuquerque. That's all.‖
―You're a squaw man, then. Isn't that right?‖
―A what, sir?‖
―White man married to an Indian woman. A squaw.‖
―Well, yeah, Darlene, she's a....‖
―And you got two half-breed kids. Isn't that right?‖
Bunting sat up a little straighter in his chair. ―Wait just a minute, sir. You can't....‖
―Uh, Don,‖ Jack Elkins said. ―You sure you want to go ahead on that point?‖
The ADA stepped back behind the desk and sat down. He lit another cigarette and pushed his hat to the back of his head. ―Forget I said anything about it.‖ He put his feet up on the desk. ―Now then, Petty Officer Bunting, you say you didn't kill anyone. Why don't you go ahead and tell us where you were, say, from noon Friday ‗til the police caught up with you a few hours ago.‖
―That's easy. We stayed at Darlene's aunt‘s house in McCarty's Village and then we went to Albuquerque in the afternoon.‖
―When was that?‖
―Friday. Darlene's brother works at a car wash by Old Town and we stopped there but he wasn't working so we went to his house. He was home. I took him to cash a check and pick up some beer.‖
―What's your Indian brother's name?‖
―Austin Concho.‖
―What'd you do then?‖
―We stayed around his place for a while, and then in the evening we went to the Indian Hospital to visit Charlotte. That's Austin's wife. Then we took Austin home and we went back to McCarty's Village for the night.‖
―Where in the hell is McCarty's Village?‖ Wilcoxson asked.
―West of Budville on the main railroad line,‖ Candelaria said. ―Eight, ten miles. On the Acoma Reservation. There's a BIA school over there and an old railroad station. Fifteen, twenty houses.‖
Wilcoxson nodded. ―So,‖ he said to Bunting, ―you were in the area of Budville last Saturday—the