Cormac McCarthy - Blood Meridian or the Evening Redness in the West

They lay without speaking. The expriest raised himself slightly and looked out and he looked at the kid. The kid lowered the hammer of the pistol.

Ye’ll get no such a chance as that again.

The kid put the pistol in his belt and rose onto his knees and looked out.

And what now?

The kid didnt answer.

He’ll be waiting at the next well.

Let him wait.

We could go back to the creek.

And do what.

Wait for a party to come through.

Through from where? There aint no ferry.

There’s game comes to the creek.

Tobin was looking out through the bones and hide. When the kid didnt answer he looked up. We could go there, he said.

I got four rounds, the kid said.

He rose and looked out across the scavenged ground and the expriest rose and looked with him. What they saw was the judge returning.

The kid swore and dropped to his belly. The expriest crouched. They pushed down into the wallow and with their chins in the sand like lizards they watched the judge traverse again the grounds before them.

With his leashed fool and his equipage and the parasol dipping in the wind like a great black flower he passed among the wreckage until he was again upon the slope of the sand esker. At the crest he turned and the imbecile squatted at his knees and the judge lowered the parasol before him and addressed the countryside about.

The priest has led you to this, boy. I know you would not hide. I know too that you’ve not the heart of a common assassin. I’ve passed before your gunsights twice this hour and will pass a third time. Why not show yourself?

No assassin, called the judge. And no partisan either. There’s a flawed place in the fabric of your heart. Do you think I could not know? You alone were mutinous. You alone reserved in your soul some corner of clemency for the heathen.

The imbecile stood and raised its hands to its face and yammered weirdly and sat again.

You think I’ve killed Brown and Toadvine? They are alive as you and me. They are alive and in possession of the fruits of their election. Do you understand? Ask the priest. The priest knows. The priest does not lie.

The judge raised the parasol and adjusted his parcels. Perhaps, he called, perhaps you have seen this place in a dream. That you would die here. Then he descended the esker and passed once more across the boneyard led by the tethered fool until the two were shimmering and insubstantial in the waves of heat and then they were gone altogether.

They would have died if the indians had not found them. All the early part of the night they’d kept Sirius at their left on the southwest horizon and Cetus out there fording the void and Orion and Betelgeuse turning overhead and they had slept curled and shivering in the darkness of the plains and woke to find the heavens all changed and the stars by which they’d traveled not to be found, as if their sleep had encompassed whole seasons. In the auburn dawn they saw the halfnaked savages crouched or standing all in a row along a rise to the north. They got up and went on, their shadows so long and so narrow raising with mock stealth each thin articulated leg. The mountains to the west were whited out against the daybreak. The aborigines moved along the sand ridge. After a while the expriest sat down and the kid stood over him with the pistol and the savages came down from the dunes and approached by starts and checks across the plain like painted sprites.

They were Diegueños. They were armed with short bows and they drew about the travelers and knelt and gave them water out of a gourd. They’d seen such pilgrims before and with sufferings more terrible. They eked a desperate living from that land and they knew that nothing excepting some savage pursuit could drive men to such plight and they watched each day for that thing to gather itself out of its terrible incubation in the house of the sun and muster along the edge of the eastern world and whether it be armies or plague or pestilence or something altogether unspeakable they waited with a strange equanimity.

They led the refugees into their camp at San Felipe, a collection of crude huts made from reeds and housing a population of filthy and beggarly creatures dressed largely in the cotton shirts of the argonauts who’d passed there, shirts and nothing more. They fetched them a stew of lizards and pocketmice hot in clay bowls and a sort of piñole made from dried and pounded grasshoppers and they crouched about and watched them with great solemnity as they ate.

One reached and touched the grips of the pistol in the kid’s belt and drew back again. Pistola, he said.

The kid ate.

The savages nodded.

Quiero mirar su pistola, the man said.

The kid didnt answer. When the man reached for the pistol he intercepted his hand and put it from him. When he turned loose the man reached again and the kid pushed his hand away again.

The man grinned. He reached a third time. The kid set the bowl between his legs and drew the pistol and cocked it and put the muzzle against the man’s forehead.

They sat quite still. The others watched. After a while the kid lowered the pistol and let down the hammer and put it in his belt and picked up the bowl and commenced eating again. The man gestured toward the pistol and spoke to his friends and they nodded and then they sat as before.

Qué pasó con ustedes.

The kid watched the man over the rim of the bowl with his dark and hollow eyes.

The indian looked at the expriest.

Qué pasó con ustedes.

The expriest in his black and crusted cravat turned his whole torso to look at the man who’d spoken. He looked at the kid. He’d been eating with his fingers and he licked them and wiped them on the filthy leg of his trousers.

Las Yumas, he said.

They sucked in air and clucked their tongues.

Son muy malos, said the speaker.

Claro.

No tiene compañeros?

The kid and the expriest eyed each other.

Si, said the kid. Muchos. He waved his hand to the east. Llegaran. Muchos compañeros.

The indians received this news without expression. A woman brought more of the piñole but they had been without food too long to have appetites and they waved her away.

In the afternoon they bathed in the creek and slept on the ground. When they woke they were being watched by a group of naked children and a few dogs. When they went up through the camp they saw the indians sitting along a ledge of rock watching tirelessly the land to the east for whatever might come out of it. No one spoke to them of the judge and they did not ask. The dogs and children followed them out of the camp and they took the trail up into the low hills to the west where the sun was already going.

They reached Warner’s Ranch late the following day and they restored themselves at the hot sulphur springs there. There was no one about. They moved on. The country to the west was rolling and grassy and beyond were mountains running to the coast. They slept that night among dwarf cedars and in the morning the grass was frozen and they could hear the wind in the frozen grass and they could hear the cries of birds that seemed a charm against the sullen shores of the void out of which they had ascended.

All that day they climbed through a highland park forested with joshua trees and rimmed about by bald granite peaks. In the evening flocks of eagles went up through the pass before them and they could see on those grassy benches the great shambling figures of bears like cattle grazing on some upland heath. There were skifts of snow in the lee of the stone ledges and in the night a light snow fell upon them. Reefs of mist were blowing across the slopes when they set out shivering in the dawn and in the new snow they saw the tracks of the bears that had come down to take their wind just before daylight.