Cormac McCarthy - Cities of the Plain

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 pho tographs 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 thrown 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 thedresser. 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 haveto 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 t0 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 oldworld 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 twoeyed 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 homecanned 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?