Cities of the Plain (14 page)

The reason you started writin stuff down in the first place was cause you couldnt remember
nothin, Oren said.

I know this little horse, said Mac. I'd sure like to sell him to Wolfenbarger.

I thought you was goin to leave him be.

He could start a circus.

This is a smoothmouthed horse about eight year old, called the auctioneer. A good usin
horse and a good ropin horse and he's worth quite a bit more than what you got him started
at.

He needs to buy that horse. It'll do about anything except travel in a straight line.
Ought to suit him right down to the ground.

The rider rode the horse hard up and back before the stands, closereining the horse and
doubling back.

Five five five, called the auctioneer. This is a good horse, boys. Guaranteed to be sound.
Work close like that. Like a cat in a stovepipe, folks. Now half now half now half.

Mac tugged at his ear. Five and a half now six now six now six, called the auctioneer.

Oren looked disgusted.

Hell, said Mac. We can have a little fun with the old boy cant we?

The bidding went to seven. The owner stood up in the stands. I'll tell you what, he said.
If you can make him go through the bridle I'll give him to you.

The bidding went to seven and a half, it went to eight.

John Grady did you hear about the preacher that sold the old boy the blind horse?

No sir.

He was always justifyin everthing with scripture. They come around wantin to know how he
could do the old boy thataway and he told em, said: Well, he was a stranger and I took him
in.

I think you told me that.

Mac nodded. He thumbed his notes.

He didnt know how to bid on that string. I think it just confused him.

Yessir.

He's ready to buy a horse.

He might be.

You a poker player, son?

I've sat in a time or two, yessir.

You think this horse will sell for under a thousand?

No sir. I kindly doubt it.

If it does bust a thousand what will it go to?

I dont know.

I dont know either.

Mac bid the horse to eight and a half and then to nine and a half. There it stopped. Oren
leaned and spat.

What Oren dont understand is that the more money that nedhead is got in his pockets the
more that Welburn horse is goin to cost me.

Oren understands that, said Oren. He just thinks you ought to go on and buy the horse for
what the bid is and not risk not havin the money to do it with. Anyway, that sumbuck's got
more money than Carter has liver pills.

The spotter raised his hand.

I got ten got ten got ten, called the auctioneer. Now eleven now eleven.

The horse went to eleven and Wolfenbarger bid it to twelve and Mac bid it to thirteen.

I aint responsible, said Oren.

The man's a horsebuyer.

You remember what the horse was bid in at?

Yeah. I remember.

Just go on then.

Old Oren, Mac said.

Wolfenbarger bought the horse for seventeen hundred dollars.

Fine piece of horseflesh, said Mac. Ought to suit him just about right.

He reached in his pocket and took out a dollar.

Why dont you run get us some Cokes, John Grady.

Yessir.

Oren watched him climb down through the stands.

You think he'd tout you off of a horse as well as he would on?

Yes. I do.

I think he would too.

I wish I had about six more just like him.

You know there's things about a horse he can only say in spanish?

I dont care if he only knows em in greek. Why?

I just thought it was curious. You think he's from San Angelo?

I think he's from wherever he says he's from.

I guess he is.

He learned it out of a book.

Out of a book?

Joaqu’n says he knows the name of ever bone a horse has got.

Oren nodded. Well, he said. He might at that. I know some things that he didnt learn out
of no book.

I do too, said Mac.

The next horse they brought out the auctioneer read from the horse's papers at some length.

I believe this here is a biblical horse, Mac said.

Aint that the truth.

The horse was bid in at a thousand dollars and went to eigh?teen five and was a no sale.

Oren leaned and spat. Man thinks a lot of his horse, he said.

The man does, said Mac.

They trotted in the Welburn horse and Mac bought him for fourteen hundred dollars.

Boys, he said. Let's go home.

You dont want to stick around and spend some more of Wolfenbarger's money?

Wolfenbarger who?

SOCORRO FOLDED and hung her towel, she untied and hung her apron. She turned at the door.

Buenas noches, she said.

Buenas noches, said Mac.

She shut the door. He could hear her winding her old tin clock. A little later he heard
the faint ratcheting sound of his fatherinlaw winding the tallcase clock in the hallway.
The glass doorcase closed softly. Then it was quiet. It was quiet in the house and it was
quiet in the country about. He sat smoking. The cooling stove ticked. Far away in the
hills behind the house a coyote called. When they had used to spend winters at the old
house on the southeasternmost section of the ranch the last thing he would hear before he
fell asleep at night was the bawl of the train eastbound out of El Paso. Sierra Blanca,
Van Horn, Marfa, Alpine, Marathon. Rolling across the blue prairie through the night and
on toward Langtry and Del Rio. The white bore of the headlamp lighting up the desert scrub
and the eyes of trackside cattle floating in the dark like coals. The herders in the hills
standing with their serapes about their shoulders watching the train pass below and the
little desert foxes stepping into the darkened roadbed to sniff after it where the warm
steel rails lay humming in the night.

That part of the ranch was long gone and the rest would soon follow. He drank the last of
his coffee cold in the cup and lit his last cigarette before bed and then he rose from his
chair and turned off the light and came back and sat smoking in the dark. A storm front
had moved down from the north in the afternoon and it had turned off cold. No rain. Maybe
in the eastern sections. Up in the Sacramentos. People imagined that if you got through a
drought you could expect a few good years to try and get caught up but it was just like
the seven on a pair of dice. The drought didnt know when the last one was and nobody knew
when the next one was coming. He was about out of the cattle business anyway. He drew
slowly on the cigarette. It flared and faded. His wife would be dead three years in
February. Socorro's Candlemas Day. Candelaria. Something to do with the Virgin. As what
didnt. In Mexico there is no God. Just her. He stubbed out the cigarette and rose and
stood looking out at the softly lit barnlot. Oh Margaret, he said.

JC PULLED UP in front of Maud's and got out and slammed the truck door and he and John
Grady went in.

Yonder come two good'ns, said Troy.

They stood at the bar. What'll you boys have, said Travis.

Give us two Blue Ribbons.

He got the bottles out of the cooler and opened them and set them on the bar.

I got it, said John Grady.

I got it, said JC.

He put forty cents on the bar and took the bottle by the neck and swigged down a long
drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and leaned against the bar.

You put in a hard day in the saddle? said Troy.

I'm mostly a nightrider, said JC.

Billy stood bent over the shuffleboard sliding the puck up and back. He looked at Troy and
he looked at JC and then he slid the puck down the hardwood alleyway. The pins at the end
swung up and the strike light lit up on the scoreboard and the small bells counted up the
score. Troy grinned and put the cigar he was smoking in the corner of his mouth and
stepped forward and took the puck and bent over the board.

You want to play?

JC'll play.

You want to play, JC?

Yeah, I'll play. What are we playin for?

Troy scored a strike on the bowling machine and stepped back and popped his fingers.

Me and JC'll play you and Askins.

Askins stood by the machine with one hand in his back pocket and the other holding a beer.
Me and Jessie'll play you and Troy, he said.

Billy lit a cigarette. He looked at Askins. He looked at JC.

You and Troy play them, he said.

Go on and play.

You and Troy play. Go on.

What are we playin for? said JC.

I dont care.

Make it light on yourself.

What are we playin for, Troy?

Whatever they want to play for.

We'll play for a dollar.

High rollers. Get your quarters up. Jessie, you in?

I'm in, said Jessie.

Billy sat on the stool at the bar next to John Grady. They watched while the players put
their quarters in the machine. The numbers rolled back and the bells chinged. Troy poured
powdered wax from a can onto the alley and slid the puck back and forth and bent to shoot.
Bowlin school is now open, he said.

Show us somethin.

You'd be surprised what all you can learn from a experienced player.

He slid the puck down the boards. The bells rang. He stepped back and popped his fingers.
Things, he said, that will stand you in good stead all your life.

I need to talk to you, said John Grady.

Billy blew smoke across the room. All right, he said.

Let's go back in the back.

All right.

They took their beers and walked to the rear of the place where there were tables and
chairs and a bandstand and a polished concrete dancefloor. They kicked back two chairs and
sat at one of the tables and set their bottles down. The place was dim and musty.

I'll bet I know what this is about, said Billy.

Yeah. I know.

He sat peeling the label from his beerbottle with his thumb
nail
while he listened. He didnt even look up at John Grady. John Grady told him about the girl
and about the White Lake and about Eduardo and he told him what the blind maestro had
said. When he'd finished Billy still hadnt looked up but he'd stopped peeling the
beerlabel. He didnt say anything. After a whilehe took his cigarettes from his pocket and
lit one and laid the pack and his lighter on the table.

You are shittin me aint you? he said.

No. I guess I aint.

What the hell's wrong with you? Have you been drinkin paint thinner or somethin?

John Grady pushed his hat back. He looked out across the floor. No, he said.

Let me see if I got this straight. You want me to go to a whorehouse in Ju‡rez Mexico and
buy this whore cash money and bring her back across the river to the ranch. Is that about
the size of it?

John Grady nodded.

Shit, said Billy. Smile or somethin, will you? Goddamn. Tell me you aint gone completely
crazy.

I aint gone completely crazy.

The hell you aint.

I'm in love with her, Billy.

Billy slumped back in his chair. His arms hung uselessly by his side. Aw goddamn, he said.
Goddamn.

I cant help what it sounds like.

My own damn fault. I never should of took you down there. Never in this world. It's my
fault. Hell, I dont even know what I'm complainin about.

He leaned and took his lighted cigarette from the tin ashtray where he'd put it and took a
pull on it and blew the smoke across the table. He shook his head. Tell me this, he said.

All right.

What in the goddamn hell would you do with her if you did get her away from down there?
Which you aint.

Marry her.

Billy paused with the cigarette half way to his mouth. He put it down again.

Well that's it, he said. That's it. I'm havin your ass committed.

I mean it, Billy.

Billy leaned back in the chair. After a while he threw up one hand. I cant believe my
goddamn ears. I think I'm the one that's gone crazy. I'm a son of a bitch if I dont. Have
you lost your rabbitassed mind? I'm an absolute son of a bitch, bud. I never in my goddamn
life heard the equal of this.

I know. I cant help it.

The hell you cant.

Will you help me?

No and hell no. Do you know what they're goin to do with you? They're goin to hook your
head up to one of them machines and throw a big switch and fry your brains to where you
wont be a menace to yourself no more.

I mean it, Billy.

You think I dont mean it? I'm goin to help em hook up the wires.

I cant go down there. He knows who I am.

Look at me, son. You're not makin no sense. What the hell kind of people do you think it
is you're talkin about? Do you really think you can go down there and dicker with some
greaser pimp that buys and sells people outright like you was goin down to the courthouse
lawn to trade knives?

I cant help it.

Will you quit sayin that, goddamn it? What the hell do you mean you cant help it?

Just let it go. It's all right.

It's all right? Shit.

He slumped in the chair.

You want another beer? No, I dont. I want a goddamn quart of whiskey.

I dont blame you for not wantin no part of it.

Well I'm glad as all hell to hear that.

He shook a cigarette out of the pack.

You got one lit, John Grady said.

Billy paid him no mind. You got no money, he said. So I dont know how in the hell you
propose to go shoppin for whores.

I'll get it.

Get it where?

I'll get it.

How much were you plannin to offer him?

Two thousand dollars.

Two thousand dollars.

Yeah.

Well. If there was any doubt at all there sure aint now. You've gone completely crazy and
that's all there is to be said about it. Aint it?

I dont know.

Well I do. Where in the hell, where in the goddamn hell, do you think you're goin to get
two thousand dollars at?