Cormac McCarthy - The Crossing

You speak american? he said.

Yessir. I do.

I thought you looked about halfway sensible. What the hell are you doin out here? What's wrong with that horse?

Well sir, I guess I'm mindin my own business. I reckon I could even say the same about the horse.

The man paid no attention. He aint dead is he?

No. He aint. He got cut by roadagents.

Cut by roadagents?

Yessir.

You mean they putted him?

No. I mean they stabbed him in the chest with a pigsticker. Whatever in the hell for?

You tell me.

I dont know.

Well I dont either.

The rider sat smoking contemplatively. He looked out across the landscape to the west of the river. I dont understand this country, he said. Not the first thing about it. You aint got any coffee anywheres about your person I dont reckon

I got some perkin. You want to light I got some supper fixin. It aint much but you're welcome.

Well I'd take it as a kindness.

He stepped down wearily and passed the bridlereins behind his back and adjusted his hat again and came forward leading the horse. Not the first damn thing, he said. Did you see my airplane come through here?

They squatted by the fire as the woods darkened and they waited for the coffee to boil. I never would of thought about them gypsies stickin the way they done, the man said. I had my doubts about em. One thing about me, when I'm wrong I'll admit it.

Well. That's a good trait to have.

Yes it is.

They ate the beans rolled up in the tortillas together with the melted cheese. The cheese was rank and goaty. Billy lifted the lid from the coffeepot with a stick and looked in and put the lid back. He looked at the man. The man was seated tailorwise on the ground holding the soles of his boots together with one hand.

You look like you might of been, down here a while, the man said.

I dont know. What does that look like?

Like you need to get back.

Well. You probably right about that. This is my third trip. It's the only time I was ever down here that I got what I come after. But it sure as hell wasnt what I wanted.

The man nodded. He didnt seem to need to know what that was. I'll tell you what, he said. It will be one cold day in hell when you catch me down here again. A frosty son of a bitch. I'll tell you that flat out.

Billy poured the coffee. They drank. The coffee was vilely hot in the tin cups but the man seemed not to notice. He drank and sat looking out through the dark woods toward the river and the silver panels of the river plaited over the gravel bars in the moonlight. Downriver the nacre bowl of the moon sat swaged into the reefs of cloud like a candled skull. He flipped the dregs of coffee into the darkness. I better get on, he said.

You welcome to stay.

I enjoy to ride of a night.

Well.

I believe a man can even cover more ground.

There's robbers all in this country, Billy said.

Robbers, the man said. He contemplated the fire. After a while he took one of the thin black cigars from his pocket and studied that. Then he bit the tip from it and spat it into the fire.

You smoke cigars?

I aint never took it up.

It aint against your religion?

Not that I know of.

The man leaned and pulled a burning billet from the fire and lit the cigar with it. It took some lighting to get it to burn. When he had it going he put the piece of wood back in the fire and blew a smoke ring and then blew a smaller one through the center of it.

What time did they leave out of here? he said.

I dont know. Noon maybe.

They wont make ten mile.

It might of been later.

Ever time I lay over somewheres they have a breakdown. They aint failed a time. My own fault. I keep gettin sidetracked by them senoritas. I liked them mamselles over yonder awful well too. I like it when they dont speak no english. Did you get over there?

No.

He reached into the fire and took out the stick he'd used to light his cigar and whipped away the flame and then turned and drew in the dark behind him with the red and smoldering end of it like a child. After a while he put it back in the fire again.

How bad's your horse? he said.

I dont know. He's been down two days.

You ought to of got that gypsy to see about him. They're supposed to know everthing there is about a horse.

Is that right?

I dont know. I know they're good at makin a sick one look well long enough to sell it.

I aint lookin to sell it.

I'll tell you what you better do.

What's that?

Keep this here fire built up.

Why is that.

Mountain lions is why. Horsemeat's their favorite kind.

Billy nodded. I always heard that, he said.

You know why you always heard it?

Why I always heard it?

Yeah.

No. Why?

Cause it's right is why.

You think most of what a man hears is right?

That's been my experience.

It aint been mine.

The man sat smoking and contemplating the fire. After a while he said: It aint been mine neither. I just said that. I wasnt over yonder like I said neither. I'm a fouraEU'F. Always was, always will be.

Did those gypsies bring that airplane out of the sierras and down the Papigochic River?

Is that what they said?

Yeah.

That airplane come out of a barn on the Taliafero Ranch out of Flores Magon. It couldnt even fly where you're talkin about. The ceiling on that plane aint but six thousand feet.

Was the man that flew it killed in it?

Not that I know of.

Was that why you come down here? To find that plane and take it back?

I come down here cause I'd knocked up a girl in McAllen Texas and her daddy wanted to shoot me.

Billy stared into the fire.

You talk about runnin into the arms of that which you have fled from, the man said. You ever been shot?

No.

I have twice. The last time was in downtown Cuauhtemoc broad daylight on a Saturday afternoon. Everbody run. There was two Mennonite women picked me up out of the street and loaded me into a wagon or I'd still be layin there.

Where'd they shoot you at?

Right here, he said. He turned and pushed the hair back above his right temple. See there? You can see it.

He leaned and spat into the fire and looked at the cigar and put it back in his mouth. He smoked. I aint crazy, he said.

I never said you was.

No. You might of thought it though.

You might of thought it about me.

Might.

Did that happen or did you just say it?

No. It happened.

My brother was shot and killed down here. I'd come down to take him home. He was shot and killed south of here. Town called San Lorenzo.

You can get killed down here about as quick as anything else you might decide to do.

My daddy was shot and killed in New Mexico. That's his horse layin over yonder.

It's a cruel world, the man said.

He come out of Texas in nineteen and nineteen. He was about the age I am now. He was not born there. He was born in Missouri.

I had a uncle was born in Missouri. His daddy fell off a wagon drunk in the mud one night goin through there and that's how it come about that he was born in Missouri.

My mama was from off a ranch up in De Baca County. Her mother was a fullblooded Mexican didnt speak no english. She lived with us up until she died. I had a younger sister died when I was seven but I remember her just as plain. I went to Fort Summer to try and find her grave but I couldnt find it. Her name was Margaret. I always liked that name for a girl. If I ever had a girl that's what I'd name her.

I better get on.

Well.

Mind what I said about your fire.

Well.

You sound like you've had your share of troubles in this world.

I just got to jabberin. I been more fortunate than most. There aint but one life worth livin and I was born to it. That's worth all the rest. My bud was better at it than me. He was a born natural. He was smarter than me too. Not just about horses. About everthing. Daddy knew it too. He knew it and he knew I knew it and that's all there was to say about it.