Not like her.
Well I'll bet that's the truth if you ever told it.
He stubbed out the cigarette. Well. I've gone as far as I can go with you. I'm goin to bed.
All right.
He pushed back his chair and rose and stood. Do I think you're crazy? he said. No. I dont. You've rewrote the book for crazy. If all you are is crazy then all them poor bastards in the loonybin that they're feedin under the door need to be set loose in the street.
He put the cigarettes and lighter in his shirtpocket and carried the cup and bowl to the sink. At the door he stopped again and looked back. I'll see you in the mornin, he said.
Billy?
Yeah.
Thanks. I appreciate it.
I'd say you're welcome but I'd be a liar.
I know it. Thanks anyway.
You aim to sell that stallion?
I dont know. Yeah.
Maybe Wolfenbarger will buy him.
I thought about that.
I expect you did. I'll see you in the mornin.
John Grady watched him walk across the yard toward the barn. He leaned and wiped the beaded water from the window glass with his sleeve. Billy's shadow shortened across the yard until he passed under the yellow light over the barn door and then he stepped through into the dark of the barn and was lost to view. John Grady let the curtains fall back across the glass and turned and sat staring into the empty cup before him. There were grounds in the bottom of the cup and he swirled the cup and looked at them. Then he swirled them the other way as if he'd put them back the way they'd been.
HE STOOD IN THE GROVE of willows with his back to the river and watched the road and the vehicles that moved along the road. There was little traffic. The dust of the few cars hung in the dry air long after the cars were gone. He walked on down to the river and squatted and watched the passing water murky with clay. He threw in a rock. Then another. He turned and looked back toward the road.
The cab when it came stopped at the turnoff and then backed and turned and came rocking and bumping down the rutted mud road and pulled up in the clearing. She got out on the far side and paid the driver and spoke briefly with him and the driver nodded and she stepped away. The driver put the cab in gear and put his arm across the seat and backed the cab and turned. He looked toward the river. Then he pulled away out to the road and went back toward town.
He took her hand. Tenia miedo que no vendrias, he said.
She didnt answer. She leaned against him. Her black hair falling about her shoulders. The smell of soap. The flesh and bone living under the cloth of her dress.
Me amas? he said.
Si. Te amo.
He sat on a cottonwood log and watched her while she waded in the gravel shallows. She turned and smiled at him. Her dress gathered about her brown thighs. He tried to smile back but his throat caught and he looked away.
She sat on the log beside him and he took her feet in his hands each in turn and dried them with his kerchief and fastened with his own fingers the small buckles of her shoes. She leaned and put her head on his shoulder and he kissed her and he touched her hair and her breasts and her face as a blind man might.
Y mi respuesta? he said.
She took his hand and kissed it and held it against her heart and she said that she was his and that she would do whatever he asked her if it take her life.
She was from the State of Chiapas and she had been sold at the age of thirteen to settle a gambling debt. She had no family. In Puebla she'd run away and gone to a convent for protection. The procurer himself appeared on the convent steps the following morning and in the pure light of day paid money into the hand of the mother superior and took the girl away again.
This man stripped her naked and beat her with a whip made from the innertube of a truck tire. Then he held her in his arms and told her that he loved her. She ran away again and went to the police. Three officers took her to a room in the basement where there was a dirty mattress on the floor. When they were through with her they sold her to the other policemen. Then they sold her to the prisoners for what few pesos they could muster or traded her for cigarettes. Finally they sent for the procurer and sold her back to him.
He beat her with his fists and slammed her against the wall and knocked her down and kicked her. He said that if she ran away again he would kill her. She closed her eyes and offered him her throat. In his rage he seized her up by the arm but the arm broke in his hand. A muted snap, like a dry stick. She gasped and cried out with the pain.
Mira, he shouted. Mira, puta, que has hecho.
The arm was set by a curandera and now would not straighten. She showed him. Mires, she said. The house was called La Esperanza del Mundo. Where a painted child in a stained kimono with her arm in a sling wept in silence or went wordlessly with men to a room at the rear for a price of less than two dollars.
He had bent forward weeping with his arms around her. He put his hand over her mouth. She took it away. Hay mas, she said.
No.
She would tell him more but again he placed his fingers against her mouth. He said that there was only one thing he wished to know.
Lo que quieras, she said.
Te casas conmigo.
Si, querido, she said. La respuesta es si. I marry you.
WHEN HE ENTERED the kitchen Oren and Troy and JC were sitting there and he nodded to them and went on to the stove and got his breakfast and his coffee and came to the table. Troy scooted his chair slightly to make room. You aint about give out under this heavy courtin schedule are you son?
Shit, said JC. Dont even think about tryin to keep up with the cowboy.
I talked to Crawford about your horse, said Oren.
What did he say.
He said he thought he had a buyer if you could come to his figures.
Same figures?
Same figures.
I dont believe I can do it.
He might do a little better. But not much.
John Grady nodded. He ate.
You might do better to run him through the auction.
The auction aint for three more weeks.
Two and a half.
Tell him I'll take three and a quarter.
JC got up and carried his dishes to the sink. Oren lit a cigarette.
When will you see him? said John Grady.
I'll talk to him today if you want.
All right.
He ate. Troy got up and took his dishes to the sink and he and JC went out. John Grady wiped his plate with the last bite of biscuit and ate it and pushed back his chair.
These four-minute breakfasts are goin to get you in trouble with the union, Oren said.
I got to see the old man a minute.
He carried his plate and cup to the sink and wiped his hands on the sides of his trousers and crossed the room and went down the hall.
He knocked on the jamb of the office doorway and looked in but the room was empty. He went on down the hall to Mac's bedroom and tapped at the open door. Mac came out of the bathroom with a towel around his neck and his hat on.
Mornin son, he said.
Mornin sir. I wondered if I could talk to you for a minute.
Come on in.
He hung the towel over a chairback and went to the oldfashioned chifforobe and took out a shirt and shook it unfolded and stood undoing the buttons. John Grady stood in the doorway.
Come on in, Mac said. Put your damn hat back on.
Yessir. He took a couple of steps into the room and put his hat on and stood there. On the wall opposite were framed photographs of horses. On the dresser in an ornate silver frame a photograph of Margaret Johnson McGovern.
Mac pulled on his shirt and stood buttoning it. Set down, son, he said.
That's all right.
Go on. You look like you got a lot on your mind.
There was a heavy oak chair covered with dark leather at the far side of the bed and he crossed the floor and sat in it. Some of Mac's clothes were t
hrown across one arm of the chair. He put his elbow on the other arm. Mac swept up and tucked in his shirt front and back and buttoned his trousers and buckled his belt and got his keys and his change and his billfold from the dresser. He came over to the bed carrying his socks and sat and unrolled them and began to pull them on. Well, he said. You wont never have no better of a chance.
John Grady started to take off his hat again but then he put his hands back in his lap. Then he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.
Just pretend it's a cold stockpond on a hot day and jump on in, said Mac.
Yessir. Well. I want to get married.
Mac stopped midsock. Then he pulled the sock on and reached down for his boot. Married, he said.
Yessir.
All right.
I want to get married and I thought for one thing if you didnt care I'd just go on and sell that horse.
Mac pulled on the boot and picked up the other boot and sat with it in his hand. Son, he said. I can understand a man wantin to get married. I lacked about a month bein twenty when I did. We kind of finished raisin one another. But I might of been fixed a little better than you. You think you can afford it?
I dont know. I thought maybe if I sold the horse.
How long have you been thinkin about this?
Well. A while.
This aint a have-to kind of thing is it?
No sir. It aint nothin like that.
Well why dont you hold off for a while. See if it wont keep.
I cant really do that.
Well, I dont know what that means.
There's some problems.
Well I got time to listen if you want to tell me about it.
Yessir. Well. For one thing she's Mexican.
Mac nodded. I've known that to work, he said. He pulled on the boot.
So I got the problem of gettin her over here.
Mac put his foot down on the floor and put his hands on his knees. He looked up at the boy. Over here? he said.
Yessir.
You mean across the river?
Yessir.
You mean she's a Mexican Mexican?
Yessir.
Damn, son.
He looked off across the room. The sun was just up over the barn. He looked at the white lace curtains on the window. He looked at the boy sitting stiffly there in his father's chair. Well, he said. That's somethin of a problem, I reckon. Aint the worst one I ever heard of. How old is she?
Sixteen.
Mac sat with his lower lip between his teeth. It keeps gettin worse, dont it? Does she speak english?
No sir.
Not word one.
No sir.
Mac shook his head. Outside they could hear the cattle calling along the fence by the road. He looked at John Grady. Son, he said, have you give this some thought?
Yessir. I sure have.
I take it you've pretty much made up your mind.
Yessir.
You wouldnt be here if you hadnt, would you?
No sir.
Where do you plan on livin at?
Well sir, I wanted to talk to you about that. I thought if you didnt care I'd see if I could fix up the old place at Bell Springs.
Damn. It dont even have a roof anymore does it?
Not much of a one. I looked it over. It could be fixed up.
It would take some fixin.
I could fix it up.
You probably could. Probably could. You aint said nothin about money. I cant raise you. You know that.
I aint asked for a raise.
I'd have to raise Billy and JC both. Hell. I might have to raise Oren.
Yessir.
Mac sat leaning forward with his fingers laced together. Son, he said, I think you ought to wait. But if you got it in your head to go on, then go ahead. I'll do whatever I can for you.
Thank you sir.
He put his hands on his knees and rose. John Grady rose. Mac shook his head, half smiling. He looked at the boy.
Is she pretty?
Yessir. She sure is.
I'll bet she is, too. You bring her in here. I want to see her.
Yessir.
You say she dont speak no english?
No sir.
Damn. He shook his head again. Well, he said. Go on. Get your butt out of here.
Yessir.
He crossed the room to the door and stopped and turned.
Thank you sir.
Go on.
HE AND BILLY rode to Cedar Springs. They rode to the top of the draw and rode back down again throwing all the cattle out downcountry before them and roping everything that looked suspicious, heading and heeling them and stretching the screaming animals on the ground and dismounting and dropping the reins while the horses backed and held the catchropes taut. There were new calves on the ground and some of them had worms in their navels and they doused them with Peerless and swabbed them out and doused them again and turned them loose. In the evening they rode up to Bell Springs and John Grady dismounted and left Billy with the horses while they drank and crossed through the swales of sacaton grass to the old adobe and pushed open the door and went in.
He stood very quietly. Sunlight fell the length of the room from the small sash set in the western wall. The floor was of packed clay beaten and oiled and it was strewn with debris, old clothes and foodtins and curious small cones of mud that had formed from water percolating down through the mud roof and dripping through the latillas to stand about like the work of old-world termites. In the corner stood an iron bedstead with random empty beercans screwed into the bare springs. On the back wall a 1928 Clay Robinson and Co. calendar showing a cowboy on nightherd under a rising moon. He passed on through the long core of light where he set the motes to dancing and went through the doorless framework into the other room. There was a small two-eyed woodburning stove against the far wall with the rusted pipes fallen into a pile behind it and there were a couple of old Arbuckle coffeeboxes nailed to the wall and a third one lying in the floor. A few jars of home-canned beans and tomatoes and salsa. Broken glass in the floor. Old newspapers from before the war. An old rotted Fish brand slicker hanging from a peg in the wall by the kitchen door and some pieces of old tackleather. When he turned around Billy was standing in the doorway watching him.
This the honeymoon suite? he said.
You're lookin at it.
He leaned in the doorframe and took his cigarettes from his shirtpocket and shucked one out and lit it.
The only thing you aint got here is a dead mule in the floor.
John Grady had crossed to the back door and stood looking out.
You think you're goin to be able to get the truck up here?
I think we might could comin up the other side.
What's this we shit? You got a rat in your pocket?
John Grady smiled. From the kitchen door you could see the late sun high on the bare ridgerock of the Jarillas. He shut the door and looked back at Billy and walked over to the stove and lifted one of the castiron eyeplates and looked in and lowered it again.
I may be wrong about this, said Billy, but it's my feelin that once they get used to lights and runnin water it's kindly hard to wean em back off again.
Got to start somewhere.
Is she goin to cook on that?
John Grady smiled. He went past Billy into the other room. Billy straightened up in the doorway to let him by and then stood looking after him. I hope she's a country girl, he said.
What do you say we ride back down on the back side and see what the old road looks like.
Whatever you want to do. We'll be late gettin in.
John Grady stood in the doorway looking out. Yeah, he said. All right. I can ride up on Sunday.
Billy watched him. He unlimbered himself out of the doorframe and crossed the room. Let's do it, he said. We're goin to be ridin back in the dark either way.
Billy?
Yeah.
It dont make any difference, you know. What a
nybody thinks.
Yeah. I know it too well.
That's a pretty picture, aint it.
He looked at the horses across the creek where they stood footed to their darkening shapes in the ford with their heads raised looking toward the house and the cottonwoods and the mountains and the red sweep of the evening sky beyond.
You think I'll outgrow whatever it is I got.
No. I dont. I used to but I dont no more.
I'm too far gone, is that it?
It aint just that. It's you. Most people get smacked around enough after a while they start to pay attention. More and more you remind me of Boyd. Only way I could ever get him to do anything was to tell him not to.
There used to be a pipe from the spring to the house.
You could run it again I would reckon.
Yeah.
I'd say the water's still good. There aint nothin above here.
Billy walked out in the yard and took a long drag on his cigarette and stood looking at the horses. John Grady pulled the door shut. Billy looked at him.
You never did tell me what Mac said.
He didnt say much. If he thought I was crazy he was too much of a gentleman to mention it.
What do you think he'd say if he knew she worked at the White Lake?
I dont know.
The hell you dont.
He wont know it unless you tell him.
I've thought about it.
Yeah?
He'd shit green apples.
Billy flipped the butt of the cigarette out across the yard. It was already dark enough that it made an arc in the fading light. Arcs within the arc. We better get on, he said.
HE DIDNT SELL the horse to Wolfenbarger. On Saturday two friends of McGovern's came out and they leaned on the fender of their truck and smoked and talked while he saddled the horse and led it out. They straightened up when they saw the horse. He nodded to them and took the animal out to the corral.
Mac came from the kitchen and nodded to the men.
Mornin.
He crossed the yard. Crawford introduced him to the other man and the three of them walked out to the corral.
That looks like the horse old man Chavez used to ride, the man said.
As far as I know there's no connection.
That was a funny story about that horse.
Yes it was.
You think a horse can grieve for a man?
No. Do you?
No. Still it was a funny kind of story.
It was.
The man walked around the horse while John Grady held it. He put his hand behind the horse's front leg and he looked into its eye. He backed up against the horse and picked up one hindleg and put it down again but he didnt look at the hoof and he didnt look into the horse's mouth.
Cities of the Plain Page 13
