JC did have him but I think he's gone on.
You know where they're headed dont you?
Up towards them rocks under the mesa yonder I'd say.
Archer came leading Travis's horse by the bridlereins. Travis stepped up into the saddle and looked toward the east. It's about to get light enough to see.
There's goin to be one godawful dogfight up in them rocks.
I hear you. Let's go boys.
John Grady and JC were sitting their horses at the upper end of the wash when Archer and Travis and Billy rode up.
Where's Troy and Joaquin?
Done gone on.
Let's go.
You hear that?
What?
Listen.
From the rimrock of the far western edge of the floodplain beyond the cries of the trailing hounds they could hear short chopping barks, a balesome howling.
Them ignorant sons of bitches is answerin back, said Billy.
I guess they want to be in on the race, Archer said. Dumb sumbucks dont know they are the race.
By the time they reached the foot of the stone palisades the hounds had already driven the dogs out of the rocks and they could hear them in a running fight and then a long howling chase up through the broken scree and boulders. It was by now gray light and they trotted the horses singlefile along the base of the cliffs, following a trail that wound among the fallen traprock. Travis put his horse alongside John Grady. He reached and put his hand on the horse's neck and John Grady slowed.
Listen, said Travis.
They halted and sat the horses and listened. Billy rode up.
Build your loops, boys, Travis said.
Think you all can see to rope?
We're fixin to find out.
They pulled the ties on their catchropes. Let's dont get in a hurry, said Travis. They're fixin to break out up here. Let em get out in the clear. Be careful now. Let's not rope our own dogs.
They ran their loops and nudged their horses forward.
Keep em small, said Travis. Keep em small. They'll go through one like a dose of salts through a cat.
The hounds' cries were suddenly just above them where the trail turned and angled up behind some large fallen boulders. They saw three shapes leaping from rock to rock. Then two more. John Grady was riding Watson's blue dun horse and he put his heels to the horse's ribs and the horse squatted and bolted. Billy was right behind him.
The trailing hounds came out of the rocks above them in full cry and John Grady reined off to the right. Both he and Billy were sitting up high in the saddle in an effort to see the running dogs. When they came out onto the upper trail John Grady looked back. Billy was whipping over and under with the small toy loop of his catchrope. A hundred feet behind him among the rocks several of Travis's appaloosa-colored dogs were coming hard. He leaned low over the horse's neck to talk it on and then raised up again to see. Three yellowlooking dogs were loping dead ahead in tandem before him up a long gravel wash. He leaned and spoke again to the horse but the horse had already seen them. He glanced back to check for Billy and when he looked ahead again the hindmost dog had broken away from the other two. He put the horse down the slope and went pounding out over the flat after it.
The loop being so small had no weight to it and he doubled it and swung it over his head and then caught it and doubled it again. When the horse saw the rope loft past its left ear it laid back its ears and came hauling down upon the running cur with its mouth open like some terrible vengeance.
The dog had no experience as quarry. It did not check or swerve but ran on and John Grady cranked the loop and leaned over the pommel of the saddle. He looked for the dog to cut back but the dog seemed to think it could outrun the horse. The coiled rope sailed out and the loop swiveled out of its turnings. The dun horse tossed up its head and set its forefeet in the gravel and squatted and John Grady dallied the home end of the rope about the polished leather of the pommel and the rope popped taut and the dog snapped into the air mutely. It cartwheeled soundlessly and landed on the gravel with a soft dead whump.
By now three more dogs had started across the plain with Travis and Joaquin after them. They passed a hundred feet out riding hard and John Grady punched the dun forward and set out after them with the yellow dog bouncing behind over the rocks and through the creosote at the end of the thirty-five foot maguey rope. Other hounds and riders had come out of the rocks to the west and were lined out upon the floodplain and he rode on dragging the dog a ways and then hauled the horse up short and jumped down and ran back to get his rope off of the dog. The dog was limp and bloody and it lay in the gravels grinning with its eyes half started from their sockets. He stood on it with his boot and pulled off the loop and trotted back to the waiting horse coiling the rope as he went.
By this time it was good daylight and there were already four riders out on the plain before him riding in a long sweep and he mounted up and slung the coiled rope over his shoulder and set out after them at a handgallop.
When he passed Joaquin the Mexican shouted something after him but he couldnt hear what it was. He quirted the horse on with the loop end of the rope, following Travis and JC and Travis's hounds. He almost ran over one of the outlaw dogs. It had crawled up and hidden in a clump of greasewood and he would have ridden past it had it not lost its nerve at the last moment and bolted. He reined the horse around so hard he nearly lost a stirrup. Billy came up on his right and passed him and the dog cut back and tried to cross in front of his horse and as it did so Billy rode it down and leaned and roped it and the horse squatted and slid to a stop in a boil of dust and the dog went sailing and bounced and skidded and then scrambled up and stood looking about. Billy turned his horse and pulled the dog down but it got up again and began to run at the end of the rope. When John Grady went past the dog was standing and twisting and pawing at the rope but Billy put his heels to the horse and the dog was snatched away. Out on the floodplain Joaquin was sawing his horse about and whooping and the dogs were scattered and baying and fighting. Travis rode up swinging his loop and John Grady reined to one side but the dog he was after cut in front of the horse and suddenly appeared in front of him. He put the horse after it and the dog tried to cut back but he swung his loop and dallied and reined the horse to the right. The dog spun in the air and landed and rose running and turned and was snatched up again. John Grady spurred the dun forward and the dog went bouncing and slamming mutely in a wide arc and then went dragging through the brush and gravel behind him.
He came back trailing the empty rope, paying it up and recoiling it as he rode. Travis and Joaquin and Billy were sitting the horses and letting them blow. The second cast of hounds were now tracking the dogs along the lower end of the floodplain, running them down among the boulders and scree and fighting and going on again. Joaquin was grinning.
I hogged your all's dog, I reckon, John Grady said.
Plenty of dogs, Joaquin said.
Watch JC, Billy said. Watch him now. He looks like he's fightin bees.
How many of these damn dogs are there?
I dont know. Archer started up a whole other bunch yonder where that big wash comes out.
Have they caught any?
I dont think so. Troy's afoot up in them rocks.
Two hounds appeared out of the chaparral and circled and sniffed the ground and stood uncertainly.
Hyeah, called Travis. Hunt em up.
Well pardner if your horse aint bottomed out completely why dont we ride on down there where the fun's at?
Billy booted his horse forward. You aint waitin on me, he said.
You all go on, said Travis. I'll catch you up.
Dogropers, called Billy. I knew it'd come to this.
Joaquin grinned and pressed his horse into a lope and raised one fist over his head. Adelante, muchachos, he called.
Perreros.
Tonteros.
Travis watched them go. He shook his head and leaned and spat and turned his horse to ride up toward where he'd
last seen Archer.
Where they came up off the desert parkland there were great boulders fallen from the mesa above and they rode up the slope among them until John Grady halted his horse and held up his hand. They stopped to listen. John Grady stood in the saddle and scanned the slope above them. Billy rode up.
I think they're headed up towards the top of the mesa.
I do too.
Can they get up there?
I dont know. Probably. They seem to think so.
Can you see them?
No. There was one big yellow son of a bitch and another kindly spotted one. There may be three or four of em.
I guess they've thrown the dogs, aint they?
It looks like it.
You think we can get up there?
I think I might know a way.
Billy squinted up at the stone ramparts. He leaned and spat. I'd hate to get a horse half way up that draw and not be able to go either way.
So would I.
Plus I dont know how much good we're goin to do runnin these varmints without dogs. Do you?
We just need to get up there before they get gone. It's pretty open country up on top.
Well, lead on then.
All right.
Let's not get in too big a hurry.
All right.
Let's just cover the ground in front of us. Let's not get in a jackpot up here.
All right.
He followed John Grady back down the way they'd come and they rode for the better part of a mile and then turned up along the wash. The way grew steep, the path more narrow. They dismounted and led the horses. They crossed gray bands of midden soil from ancient campsites washed down out of the arroyo that carried bits of bone and pottery and they passed under pictographs upon the rimland boulders that bore images of hunter and shaman and meetingfires and desert sheep all picked into the rock a thousand years and more. They passed beneath a band of dancers holding hands like paper figures scissored out by children and stenciled on the stone. Under the caprock was a running shelf and they turned and looked back down over the floodplain and the desert. Troy was riding out toward Travis and JC and Archer and they were crossing toward the truck with most of the dogs in tow. They couldnt see Joaquin anywhere. In the distance they could see the highway through a gap in the low hills fifteen miles away. The horses stood blowing.
Where to now, cowboy? said Billy.
John Grady nodded toward the country above them and set out again leading the horse.
The shelf narrowed upward to a break in the strata of the rock and they led the horses into a defile so narrow that Billy's horse balked and would not follow. It backed and jerked at the bridlereins and skittered dangerously on the shales. Billy looked up the narrow passageway. The sheer rock walls rose up into the blue sky.
Bud are you real sure about this?
John Grady had dropped the reins on the blue horse and he peeled out of his jacket and made his way back to Billy.
Take my horse, he said.
What?
Take my horse. Or Watson's. He's been through here before.
He took the reins from Billy and calmed the horse and tied the jacket by the sleeves over the horse's eyes, leaning against the animal with his whole body. Billy worked his way up to where the dun horse stood and took up the reins and led it on up through the rocks, the horse scrabbling in the shale, the loose spurs clinking off the stone. At the top of the defile the horses lunged and clambered up and out onto the mesa and stood trembling and blowing. John Grady pulled the jacket off the horse's head and the horse blew and looked about. A mile away on the mesa three of the dogs were loping and looking back.
You want to ride that good horse? said John Grady.
Let me ride this good horse.
Well yonder they go.
They set off across the open tableland with their ropes popping and loud cries, leaning low in the saddle, riding neck and neck. In a mile they'd halved the dogs' lead. The dogs kept to the mesa and the mesa widened before them. If they'd kept to the rim they might have found a place to go down again where the horses could not follow but they seemed to think they could outrun anything that cared to follow and run they did, two of them side by side and the third behind, their long dogshadows beside them in the sun racing brokenly over the sparse taupe grass of the tableland.
Billy overhauled them on the dun horse before they could separate and leaned and roped the hindmost dog. He didnt even dally the rope but just caught two turns about his wrist and gave a yank and snatched the dog from the ground and rode on dragging it behind the horse with the rope in one hand.
He overtook the dogs again and rode past so as to head them. The running dogs looked up, their eyes lost, their tongues lolling. Their dead companion came sliding up beside them at the end of the trailing rope. Billy looked back and reined the horse to the right and dragged the dead dog in front of them and headed them in a long running arc. John Grady was coming hard across the mesa and Billy brought the dun horse to a halt in a series of hops and jumped down and freed his noose from the dog and rewound it on the run and mounted up again.
He reached the dogs first and snapped his loop around the big yellow dog in the lead. The speckled dog cut back almost under the horse's legs and headed toward the rim. The yellow dog rolled and bounced and got up again and continued running with the noose about its neck. John Grady came riding up behind Billy and swung his rope and heeled the yellow dog and quirted the horse on with the doubled rope end and then dallied. The slack of Billy's catchrope hissed along the ground and stopped and the big yellow dog rose suddenly from the ground in headlong flight taut between the two ropes and the ropes resonated a single brief dull note and then the dog exploded.
The sun was not an hour up and in the flat traverse of the light on the mesa the blood that burst in the air before them was as bright and unexpected as an apparition. Something evoked out of nothing and wholly unaccountable. The dog's head went cartwheeling, the ropes recoiled in the air, the dog's body slammed to the ground with a dull thud.
Goddamn, said Billy.
There was a long whoop from down the mesa. Joaquin was riding toward them with three of the blueticks. He'd seen them heel and head the dog and he waved his hat laughing. The hounds loped beside the horse. They still hadnt seen the spotted dog making for the rim of the mesa.
Ayeee muchachos, called Joaquin. He whooped and laughed and leaned and hazed his hat at the heeling dogs.
Damn, said Billy. I didnt know you was goin to do that.
I didnt either.
Son of a bitch. He hauled his rope toward him, coiling it as it came. John Grady rode out to where the dog's headless body lay in the bloodstained grass and dismounted and freed his rope from the animal's hindquarters and mounted up again. The hounds came up circling the carcass and sniffing at the blood with their hackles up. One of them circled John Grady's horse and then backed and stood baying him but he paid it no mind. He coiled his rope and turned and dug his heels into the horse's flanks and set out across the mesa after the lone remaining dog. Joaquin by now had also seen the dog and he came riding after it, quirting his horse with the doubled rope and shouting to the dogs. Billy sat watching them go. He coiled the rope and tied it and wiped the blood from his hands on the leg of his jeans and then sat watching the race head out along the edge of the mesa. The spotted dog seemed to see no way down from the tableland and it looked to be tiring as it loped along the rim. When it heard the hounds it turned upcountry again and crossed behind Joaquin and Joaquin brought his horse around and in a flat race overtook it and roped it in less than a mile of ground. Billy rode out to the rimrock and dismounted and lit a cigarette and sat looking out over the country to the south.
They came riding back across the mesa with the hounds at the horses' heels. Joaquin trailed the dead dog through the grass at the end of his rope. The dog was bloody and half raw and its eyes were glazed and its lolling tongue was stuck with chaff and grass. They rode up to the rim
rock and Joaquin dismounted and retrieved his rope from the dead dog.
Got some pups here somewhere, he said.
Billy walked up and stood looking at the dog. It was a bitch with swollen teats. He walked over and got his horse and mounted up and looked back at John Grady.
Let's take that long way back. Crawlin through them rocks gives me the fidgets.
John Grady had taken off his hat and set it in the fork of the saddle before him. His face was streaked with blood and there was blood on his shirt. He passed the back of his sleeve across his forehead and picked up his hat and put it on again. That's all right by me, he said. Joaquin?
Sure, said Joaquin. He eyed the sun. We'll be back for dinner.
You think we got em all?
Hard to say.
I'd say we broke a few of em of their habits.
I'd say we did too.
How many of Archer's dogs come up here with you?
Three.
Well we aint got but two.
They turned in their saddles and scanned the mesa.
Where do you reckon he's got to?
I dont know, said Joaquin.
He could of gone down the far side yonder.
Joaquin leaned and spat and turned his horse. Let's go, he said. He could be anywheres. There's always one that dont want to go home.
IT WAS STILL DARK in the morning when John Grady woke him. He groaned and turned and put the pillow over his head.
Wake up, cowboy.
What the hell time is it?
Five-thirty.
What's wrong with you?
You want to see if we can find them dogs?
Dogs? What dogs? What the hell are you talkin about?
Them pups.
Shit, said Billy.
John Grady sat in the doorway and propped one boot against the frame. Billy? he said.
What, damn it.
We could ride up there and take a look around.
He rolled over and looked at John Grady sitting sideways in the door in the dark. You're makin me completely crazy, he said.
Cut for sign. I guarantee you we could find em.
You couldnt find em.
We could get a couple of dogs from Travis.
Travis wont loan his dogs. We done been through all that.
I know about where that den's at.
Why wont you let me sleep?
We could be back by dinnertime. I guarantee you.
I'm beggin you to leave me alone, son. Beggin you. I dont want to have to shoot you. I'd never hear the end of it from Mac.
Cities of the Plain Page 15
