Driving out 90 toward the turnoff at Dryden he came across a hawk dead in the road. He saw the feathers move in the wind. He pulled over and got out and walked back and squatted on his bootheels and looked at it. He raised one wing and let it fall again. Cold yellow eye dead to the blue vault above them.
It was a big redtail. He picked it up by one wingtip and carried it to the bar ditch and laid it in the grass. They would hunt the blacktop, sitting on the high powerpoles and watching the highway in both directions for miles. Any small thing that might venture to cross. Closing on their prey against the sun. Shadowless. Lost in the concentration of the hunter. He wouldnt have the trucks running over it.
He stood there looking out across the desert. So quiet. Low hum of wind in the wires. High bloodweeds along the road. Wiregrass and sacahuista. Beyond in the stone arroyos the tracks of dragons. The raw rock mountains shadowed in the late sun and to the east the shimmering abscissa of the desert plains under a sky where raincurtains hung dark as soot all along the quadrant. That god lives in silence who has scoured the following land with salt and ash. He walked back to the cruiser and got in and pulled away.
When he pulled up in front of the sheriff's office in Sonora the first thing he saw was the yellow tape stretched across the parking lot. A small courthouse crowd. He got out and crossed the street.
What's happened, Sheriff?
I dont know, said Bell. I just got here.
He ducked under the tape and went up the steps. Lamar looked up when he tapped at the door. Come in, Ed Tom, he said. Come in. We got hell to pay here.
They walked out on the courthouse lawn. Some of the men followed them.
You all go on, said Lamar. Me and the sheriff here need to talk.
He looked haggard. He looked at Bell and he looked at the ground. He shook his head and looked away. I used to play mumbledypeg here when I was a boy. Right here. These youngsters today I dont think would even know what that was. Ed Tom this is a damned lunatic.
I hear you.
You got anything to go on?
Not really.
Lamar looked away. He wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. I'll tell you right now. This son of a bitch will never see a day in court. Not if I catch him he wont.
Well, we need to catch him first.
That boy was married.
I didnt know that.
Twenty-three year old. Clean cut boy. Straight as a die. Now I got to go out to his house fore his wife hears it on the damn radio.
I dont envy you that. I surely dont.
I think I'm goin to quit, Ed Tom.
You want me to go out there with you?
No. I appreciate it. I need to go.
All right.
I just have this feelin we're looking at somethin we really aint never even seen before.
I got the same feelin. Let me call you this evenin.
I appreciate it.
He watched Lamar cross the lawn and climb the steps to his office. I hope you dont quit, he said. I think we're goin to need all of you we can get.
When they pulled up in front of the cafe it was one-twenty in the morning. There were only three people on the bus.
Sanderson, the driver said.
Moss made his way forward. He'd seen the driver eyeing him in the mirror. Listen, he said. Do you think you could let me out down at the Desert Aire? I got a bad leg and I live down there but I got nobody to pick me up.
The driver shut the door. Yeah, he said. I can do that.
When he walked in she got up off the couch and ran and put her arms around his neck. I thought you was dead, she said.
Well I aint so dont go to slobberin.
I aint.
Why dont you fix me some bacon and eggs while I take a shower.
Let me see that cut on your head. What happened to you? Where's your truck at?
I need to take a shower. Fix me somethin to eat. My stomach thinks my throat's been cut.
When he came out of the shower he was wearing a pair of shorts and when he sat at the little formica table in the kitchen the first thing she said was What's that on the back of your arm?
How many eggs is this?
Four.
You got any more toast?
They's two more pieces comin. What is that, Llewelyn?
What would you like to hear?
The truth.
He sipped his coffee and set about salting his eggs.
You aint goin to tell me, are you?
No.
What happened to your leg?
It's broke out in a rash.
She buttered the fresh toast and put it on the plate and sat in the chair opposite. I like to eat breakfast of a night, he said. Takes me back to my bachelor days.
What is goin on, Llewelyn?
Here's what's goin on, Carla Jean. You need to get your stuff packed and be ready to roll out of here come daylight. Whatever you leave you aint goin to see it again so if you want it dont leave it. There's a bus leaves out of here at seven-fifteen in the mornin. I want you to go to Odessa and wait there till I can call you.
She sat back in the chair and watched him. You want me to go to Odessa, she said.
That's correct.
You aint kiddin, are you?
Me? No. I aint kiddin a bit. Are we out of preserves?
She got up and got the preserves out of the refrigerator and set them on the table and sat back down. He unscrewed the jar and ladled some onto his toast and spread it with his knife.
What's in that satchel you brought in?
I told you what was in that satchel.
You said it was full of money.
Well then I reckon that's what's in it.
Where's it at?
Under the bed in the back room.
Under the bed.
Yes mam.
Can I go back there and look?
You're free white and twenty-one so I reckon you can do whatever you want.
I aint twenty-one.
Well whatever you are.
And you want me to get on a bus and go to Odessa.
You are gettin on a bus and goin to Odessa.
What am I supposed to tell Mama?
Well, try standin in the door and hollerin: Mama, I'm home.
Where's your truck at?
Gone the way of all flesh. Nothin's forever.
How are we supposed to get down there in the mornin?
Call Miss Rosa over yonder. She aint got nothin to do.
What have you done, Llewelyn?
I robbed the bank at Fort Stockton.
You're a lyin sack of you know what.
If you aint goin to believe me what'd you ask me for? You need to get on back there and get your stuff together. We got about four hours till daylight.
Let me see that thing on your arm.
You done seen it.
Let me put somethin on it.
Yeah, I think there's some buckshot salve in the cabinet if we aint out. Will you go on and quit aggravatin me? I'm tryin to eat.
Did you get shot?
No. I just said that to get you stirred up. Go on now.
He crossed the Pecos River just north of Sheffield Texas and took route 349 south. When he pulled into the filling station at Sheffield it was almost dark. A long red twilight with doves crossing the highway heading south toward some ranch tanks. He got change from the proprietor and made a phone call and filled the tank and went back in and paid.
You all gettin any rain up your way? the proprietor said.
Which way would that be?
I seen you was from Dallas.
Chigurh picked his change up off the counter. And what business is it of yours where I'm from, friendo?
I didnt mean nothin by it.
You didnt mean nothing by it.
I was just passin the time of day.
I guess that passes for manners in your cracker view of things.
Well sir, I apologized. If you dont want to accept my apolo
gy I dont know what else I can do for you.
How much are these?
Sir?
I said how much are these.
Sixty-nine cents.
Chigurh unfolded a dollar onto the counter. The man rang it up and stacked the change before him the way a dealer places chips. Chigurh hadnt taken his eyes from him. The man looked away. He coughed. Chigurh opened the plastic package of cashews with his teeth and doled a third part of them into his palm and stood eating.
Will there be somethin else? the man said.
I dont know. Will there?
Is there somethin wrong?
With what?
With anything.
Is that what you're asking me? Is there something wrong with anything?
The man turned away and put his fist to his mouth and coughed again. He looked at Chigurh and he looked away. He looked out the window at the front of the store. The gas pumps and the car sitting there. Chigurh ate another small handful of the cashews.
Will there be anything else?
You've already asked me that.
Well I need to see about closin.
See about closing.
Yessir.
What time do you close?
Now. We close now.
Now is not a time. What time do you close.
Generally around dark. At dark.
Chigurh stood slowly chewing. You dont know what you're talking about, do you?
Sir?
I said you dont know what you're talking about do you.
I'm talkin about closin. That's what I'm talkin about.
What time do you go to bed.
Sir?
You're a bit deaf, arent you? I said what time do you go to bed.
Well. I'd say around nine-thirty. Somewhere around nine-thirty.
Chigurh poured more cashews into his palm. I could come back then, he said.
We'll be closed then.
That's all right.
Well why would you be comin back? We'll be closed.
You said that.
Well we will.
You live in that house behind the store?
Yes I do.
You've lived here all your life?
The proprietor took a while to answer. This was my wife's father's place, he said. Originally.
You married into it.
We lived in Temple Texas for many years. Raised a family there. In Temple. We come out here about four years ago.
You married into it.
If that's the way you want to put it.
I dont have some way to put it. That's the way it is.
Well I need to close now.
Chigurh poured the last of the cashews into his palm and wadded the little bag and placed it on the counter. He stood oddly erect, chewing.
You seem to have a lot of questions, the proprietor said. For somebody that dont want to say where it is they're from.
What's the most you ever saw lost on a coin toss?
Sir?
I said what's the most you ever saw lost on a coin toss.
Coin toss?
Coin toss.
I dont know. Folks dont generally bet on a coin toss. It's usually more like just to settle somethin.
What's the biggest thing you ever saw settled?
I dont know.
Chigurh took a twenty-five cent piece from his pocket and flipped it spinning into the bluish glare of the fluorescent lights overhead. He caught it and slapped it onto the back of his forearm just above the bloody wrappings. Call it, he said.
Call it?
Yes.
For what?
Just call it.
Well I need to know what it is we're callin here.
How would that change anything?
The man looked at Chigurh's eyes for the first time. Blue as lapis. At once glistening and totally opaque. Like wet stones. You need to call it, Chigurh said. I cant call it for you. It wouldnt be fair. It wouldnt even be right. Just call it.
I didnt put nothin up.
Yes you did. You've been putting it up your whole life. You just didnt know it. You know what the date is on this coin?
No.
It's nineteen fifty-eight. It's been traveling twenty-two years to get here. And now it's here. And I'm here. And I've got my hand over it. And it's either heads or tails. And you have to say. Call it.
I dont know what it is I stand to win.
In the blue light the man's face was beaded thinly with sweat. He licked his upper lip.
You stand to win everything, Chigurh said. Everything.
You aint makin any sense, mister.
Call it.
Heads then.
Chigurh uncovered the coin. He turned his arm slightly for the man to see. Well done, he said.
He picked the coin from his wrist and handed it across.
What do I want with that?
Take it. It's your lucky coin.
I dont need it.
Yes you do. Take it.
The man took the coin. I got to close now, he said.
Dont put it in your pocket.
Sir?
Dont put it in your pocket.
Where do you want me to put it?
Dont put it in your pocket. You wont know which one it is.
All right.
Anything can be an instrument, Chigurh said. Small things. Things you wouldnt even notice. They pass from hand to hand. People dont pay attention. And then one day there's an accounting. And after that nothing is the same. Well, you say. It's just a coin. For instance. Nothing special there. What could that be an instrument of? You see the problem. To separate the act from the thing. As if the parts of some moment in history might be interchangeable with the parts of some other moment. How could that be? Well, it's just a coin. Yes. That's true. Is it?
Chigurh cupped his hand and scooped his change from the counter into his palm and put the change in his pocket and turned and walked out the door. The proprietor watched him go. Watched him get into the car. The car started and pulled off from the gravel apron onto the highway south. The lights never did come on. He laid the coin on the counter and looked at it. He put both hands on the counter and just stood leaning there with his head bowed.
When he got to Dryden it was about eight oclock. He sat at the intersection in front of Condra's Feed Store with the lights off and the motor running. Then he turned the lights on and pulled out on highway 90 headed east.
The white marks at the side of the road when he found them looked like surveyor's marks but there were no numbers, just the chevrons. He marked the mileage on the odometer and drove another mile and slowed and turned off the highway. He shut off the lights and left the motor running and got out and walked down and opened the gate and came back. He drove across the bars of the cattleguard and got out and closed the gate again and stood there listening. Then he got in the car and drove out down the rutted track.
He followed a southrunning fence, the Ford wallowing over the bad ground. The fence was just an old remnant, three wires strung on mesquite posts. In a mile or so he came out on a gravel plain where a Dodge Ramcharger was parked facing toward him. He pulled slowly alongside it and shut down the engine.
The Ramcharger's windows were tinted so dark they looked black. Chigurh opened the door and got out. A man got out on the passenger side of the Dodge and folded the seat forward and climbed into the rear. Chigurh walked around the vehicle and got in and shut the door. Let's go, he said.
Have you talked to him? the driver said.
No.
He dont know what's happened?
No. Let's go.
They rolled out across the desert in the dark.
When do you aim to tell him? the driver said.
When I know what it is that I'm telling him.
When they came to Moss's truck Chigurh leaned forward to study it.
Is that his truck?
That's it. Plates is gone.
Pull up here. Have you got a screwdr
iver?
Look in the jockeybox there.
Chigurh got out with the screwdriver and walked over to the truck and opened the door. He pried the aluminum inspection plate off of the rivets inside the door and put it in his pocket and came back and got in and put the screwdriver back in the glovebox. Who cut the tires? he said.
It wasnt us.
Chigurh nodded. Let's go, he said.
They parked some distance from the trucks and walked down to look at them. Chigurh stood there a long time. It was cold out on the barrial and he had no jacket but he didnt seem to notice. The other two men stood waiting. He had a flashlight in his hand and he turned it on and walked among the trucks and looked at the bodies. The two men followed at a small distance.
Whose dog? Chigurh said.
We dont know.
He stood looking in at the dead man slumped across the console of the Bronco. He shone the light into the cargo space behind the seats.
Where's the box? he said.
It's in the truck. You want it?
Can you get anything on it?
No.
Nothing?
Not a bleep.
Chigurh studied the dead man. He jostled him with his flashlight.
These are some ripe petunias, one of the men said.
Chigurh didnt answer. He backed out of the truck and stood looking over the bajada in the moonlight. Dead quiet. The man in the Bronco had not been dead three days or anything like it. He pulled the pistol from the waistband of his trousers and turned around to where the two men were standing and shot them once each through the head in rapid succession and put the gun back in his belt. The second man had actually half turned to look at the first as he fell. Chigurh stepped between them and bent and pulled away the shoulderstrap from the second man and swung up the nine millimeter Glock he'd been carrying and walked back out to the vehicle and got in and started it and backed around and drove up out of the caldera and back toward the highway.
III
I dont know that law enforcement benefits all that much from new technology. Tools that comes into our hands comes into theirs too. Not that you can go back. Or that you'd even want to. We used to have them old Motorola two way radios. We've had the high-band now for several years. Some things aint changed. Common sense aint changed. I'll tell my deputies sometimes to just follow the breadcrumbs. I still like the old Colts. .44-40. If that wont stop him you'd better throw the thing down and take off runnin. I like the old Winchester model 97. I like it that it's got a hammer. I dont like havin to hunt the safety on a gun. Of course some things is worse. That cruiser of mine is seven years old. It's got the 454 in it. You cant get that engine no more. I drove one of the new ones. It wouldnt outrun a fatman. I told the man I thought I'd stick with what I had. That aint always a good policy. But it aint always a bad one neither.
No Country for Old Men Page 4
