No Country for Old Men (6 page)

What calibers you got there, Sheriff?

Nine millimeter. A couple of .45 ACP's.

He dropped the shells back into the floor and stepped back and picked up his rifle from
where he'd leaned it against the vehicle. Somebody's unloaded on this thing with a shotgun
by the look of it.

You think them holes are big enough?

I dont think they're double ought. More likely number four buck.

More buck for your bang.

You could put it that way. You want to clean out a alley that's a pretty good way to go.

Wendell looked over the caldera. Well, he said. Somebody's walked away from here.

I'd say they have.

How come do you reckon the coyotes aint been at them?

Bell shook his head. I dont know, he said. Supposedly they wont eat a Mexican.

Them over yonder aint Mexican.

Well, that's true.

It must of sounded like Vietnam out here.

Vietnam, the sheriff said.

They walked out between the trucks. Bell picked up a few more casings and looked at them
and dropped them again. He picked up a blue plastic speedloader. He stood and looked over
the scene. I'll tell you what, he said.

Tell me.

It dont much stand to reason that the last man never even got hit.

I would agree with that.

Why dont we get the horses and just ride up here a ways and look around. Maybe cut for
sign a little.

We can do that.

Can you tell me what they wanted with a dog out here?

I got no idea.

When they found the dead man in the rocks a mile to the northeast Bell just sat his wife's
horse. He sat there for a long time.

What are you thinkin, Sheriff?

The sheriff shook his head. He got down and walked over to where the dead man lay slumped.
He walked over the ground, the rifle yoked across his shoulders. He squatted and studied
the grass.

We got another execution here Sheriff?

No, I believe this one's died of natural causes.

Natural causes?

Natural to the line of work he's in.

He aint got a gun.

No.

Wendell leaned and spat. Somebody's been here before us.

I'd say so.

You think he was packin the money?

I'd say there's a good chance of it.

So we still aint found the last man, have we?

Bell didnt answer. He rose and stood looking out over the country.

It's a mess, aint it Sheriff?

If it aint it'll do till a mess gets here.

They rode back across the upper end of the caldera. They sat the horses and looked down at
Moss's truck.

So where do you think this good old boy is at? Wendell said.

I do not know.

I would take it his whereabouts is pretty high on your worklist.

The sheriff nodded. Pretty high, he said.

They drove back to town and the sheriff sent Wendell on to the house with the truck and
the horses.

You be sure and rap on the kitchen door and thank Loretta.

I will. I got to give her the keys anyways.

The county dont pay her to use her horse.

I hear you.

He called Torbert on the mobile phone. I'm comin to get you, he said. Just set tight.

When he pulled up in front of Lamar's office the police tape was still strung across the
courthouse lawn. Torbert was sitting on the steps. He got up and walked out to the car.

You all right? Bell said.

Yessir.

Where's Sheriff Lamar?

He's out on a call.

They drove out toward the highway. Bell told the deputy about the caldera. Torbert
listened in silence. He rode looking out the window. After a while he said: I got the
report from Austin.

What do they say.

Not much of anything.

What was he shot with?

They dont know.

They dont know?

No sir.

How can they not know? There wasnt no exit wound.

Yessir. They freely admitted that.

Freely admitted?

Yessir.

Well what the hell did they say, Torbert?

They said that he had what looked to be a large caliber bullet wound in the forehead and
that said wound had penetrated to a distance of approximately two and a half inches
through the skull and into the frontal lobe of the brain but that there was not no bullet
to be found.

Said wound.

Yessir.

Bell pulled out onto the interstate. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He
looked at his deputy.

What you're sayin dont make no sense, Torbert.

I told em that.

To which they responded?

They didnt respond nothin. They're sendin the report FedEx. X-rays and everthing. They
said you'd have it in your office by in the mornin.

They rode along in silence. After a while Torbert said: This whole thing is just hell in
spectacles, aint it Sheriff.

Yes it is.

How many bodies is it altogether?

Good question. I aint sure I even counted. Eight. Nine with Deputy Haskins.

Torbert studied the country out there. The shadows long on the road. Who the hell are
these people? he said.

I dont know. I used to say they were the same ones we've always had to deal with. Same
ones my grandaddy had to deal with. Back then they was rustlin cattle. Now they're runnin
dope. But I dont know as that's true no more. I'm like you. I aint sure we've seen these
people before. Their kind. I dont know what to do about em even. If you killed em all
they'd have to build a annex on to hell.

Chigurh pulled in to the Desert Aire shortly before noon and parked just below Moss's
trailer and shut off the engine. He got out and walked across the raw dirt yard and
climbed the steps and tapped at the aluminum door. He waited. Then he tapped again. He
turned and stood with his back to the trailer and studied the little park. Nothing moved.
Not a dog. He turned and put his wrist to the doorlock and shot out the lock cylinder with
the cobalt steel plunger of the cattlegun and opened the door and went in and shut the
door behind him.

He stood, the deputy's revolver in his hand. He looked in the kitchen. He walked back into
the bedroom. He walked through the bedroom and pushed open the bathroom door and went into
the second bedroom. Clothes on the floor. The closet door open. He opened the top dresser
drawer and closed it again. He put the gun back in his belt and pulled his shirt over it
and walked back out to the kitchen.

He opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of milk and opened it and smelled it and
drank. He stood there holding the carton in one hand and looking out the window. He drank
again and then he put the carton back in the refrigerator and shut the door.

He went into the livingroom and sat on the sofa. There was a perfectly good twenty-one
inch television on the table. He looked at himself in the dead gray screen.

He rose and got the mail off the floor and sat back down and went through it. He folded
three of the envelopes and put them in his shirtpocket and then rose and went out.

He drove down and parked in front of the office and went in. Yessir, the woman said.

I'm looking for Llewelyn Moss.

She studied him. Did you go up to his trailer?

Yes I did.

Well I'd say he's at work. Did you want to leave a message?

Where does he work?

Sir I aint at liberty to give out no information about our residents.

Chigurh looked around at the little plywood office. He looked at the woman.

Where does he work.

Sir?

I said where does he work.

Did you not hear me? We cant give out no information.

A toilet flushed somewhere. A doorlatch clicked. Chigurh looked at the woman again. Then
he went out and got in the Ramcharger and left.

He pulled in at the cafe and took the envelopes out of his shirtpocket and unfolded them
and opened them and read the letters inside. He opened the phone bill and looked at the
charges. There were calls to Del Rio and to Odessa.

He went in and got some change and went to the payphone and dialed the Del Rio number but
there was no answer. He called the Odessa number and a woman answered and he asked for
Llewelyn. The woman said he wasnt there.

I tried to reach him in Sanderson but I dont believe he's there anymore.

There was a silence. Then the woman said: I dont know where he's at. Who is this?

Chigurh hung up the phone and went over to the counter and sat down and ordered a cup of
coffee. Has Llewelyn been in? he said.

When he pulled up in front of the garage there were two men sitting with their backs to
the wall of the building eating their lunches. He went in. There was a man at the desk
drinking coffee and listening to the radio. Yessir, he said.

I was looking for Llewelyn.

He aint here.

What time do you expect him?

I dont know. He aint called in or nothin so your guess is as good as mine. He leaned his
head slightly. As if he'd get another look at Chigurh. Is there somethin I can help you
with?

I dont think so.

Outside he stood on the broken oilstained pavement. He looked at the two men sitting at
the end of the building.

Do you know where Llewelyn is?

They shook their heads. Chigurh got into the Ramcharger and pulled out and went back
toward town.

The bus pulled into Del Rio in the early afternoon and Moss got his bags and climbed down.
He walked down to the cab-stand and opened the rear door of the cab parked there and got
in. Take me to a motel, he said.

The driver looked at him in the mirror. You got one in mind?

No. Just someplace cheap.

They drove out to a place called the Trail Motel and Moss got out with his bag and the
document case and paid the driver and went into the office. A woman was sitting watching
television. She got up and went around behind the desk.

Do you have a room?

I got more than one. How many nights?

I dont know.

We got a weekly rate is the reason I ask. Thirty-five dollars plus a dollar seventy-five
tax. Thirty-six seventy-five.

Thirty-six seventy-five.

Yessir.

For the week.

Yessir. For the week.

Is that your best rate?

Yessir. There's not no discounts on the weekly rate.

Well let's just take it one day at a time.

Yessir.

He got the key and walked down to the room and went in and shut the door and set the bags
on the bed. He closed the curtains and stood looking out through them at the squalid
little court. Dead quiet. He fastened the chain on the door and sat on the bed. He
unzipped the duffel bag and took out the machinepistol and laid it on the bedspread and
lay down beside it.

When he woke it was late afternoon. He lay there looking at the stained asbestos ceiling.
He sat up and pulled off his boots and socks and examined the bandages on his heels. He
went into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror and he took off his shirt and
examined the back of his arm. It was discolored from shoulder to elbow. He walked back
into the room and sat on the bed again. He looked at the gun lying there. After a while he
climbed up onto the cheap wooden desk and with the blade of his pocketknife set to
unscrewing the airduct grille, putting the screws in his mouth one by one. Then he pulled
the grille loose and laid it on the desk and stood on his toes and looked into the duct.

He cut a length from the Venetian blind cord at the window and tied the end of the cord to
the case. Then he unlatched the case and counted out a thousand dollars and folded the
money and put it in his pocket and shut the case and fastened it and fastened the straps.

He got the clothes pole out of the closet, sliding the wire hangers off onto the floor,
and stood on the dresser again and pushed the case down the duct as far as he could reach.
It was a tight fit. He took the pole and pushed it again until he could just reach the end
of the rope. He put the grille back with its rack of dust and fastened the screws and
climbed down and went into the bathroom and took a shower. When he came out he lay on the
bed in his shorts and pulled the chenille spread over himself and over the submachinegun
at his side. He pushed the safety off. Then he went to sleep.

When he woke it was dark. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat listening. He
rose and walked to the window and pulled the curtain back slightly and looked out. Deep
shadows. Silence. Nothing.

He got dressed and put the gun under the mattress with the safety still off and smoothed
down the dustskirt and sat on the bed and picked up the phone and called a cab.

He had to pay the driver an extra ten dollars to take him across the bridge to Ciudad
Acuña. He walked the streets, looking into the shopwindows. The evening was soft and warm
and in the little alameda grackles were settling in the trees and calling to one another.
He went into a boot shop and looked at the exotics — crocodile and ostrich and elephant —
but the quality of the boots was nothing like the Larry Mahans that he wore. He went into
a farmacia and bought a tin of bandages and sat in the park and patched his raw feet. His
socks were already bloody. At the corner a cabdriver asked him if he wanted to go see the
girls and Moss held up his hand for him to see the ring he wore and kept on walking.

He ate in a restaurant with white tablecloths and waiters in white jackets. He ordered a
glass of red wine and a porterhouse steak. It was early and the restaurant was empty save
for him. He sipped the wine and when the steak came he cut into it and chewed slowly and
thought about his life.

He got back to the motel a little after ten and sat in the cab with the motor running
while he counted out money for the fare. He handed the bills across the seat and he
started to get out but he didnt. He sat there with his hand on the doorhandle. Drive me
around to the side, he said.