All the Pretty Horses(14)
They rode upriver to where a creek cut in and they rode down the creek and out onto a gravel bar and sat the horses and studied the water and the country about. Rawlins rolled a cigarette and crossed one leg over the pommel of the saddle and sat smoking.
Who is it we’re hidin from? he said.
Who aint we?
I dont see where anybody could be hidin over there.
They might say the same thing lookin at this side.
Rawlins sat smoking. He didnt answer.
We can cross right down yonder off of that shoal, John Grady said.
Why dont we do it now?
John Grady leaned and spat into the river. I’ll do whatever you want, he said. I thought we agreed to play it safe.
I’d sure like to get it behind me if we’re goin to.
I would too pardner. He turned and looked at Rawlins.
Rawlins nodded. All right, he said.
They rode back up the creek and dismounted and unsaddled the horses on the gravel bar and staked them out in the creekside grass. They sat under the shade of the willows and ate vienna sausages and crackers and drank koolaid made from creekwater. You think they got vienna sausages in Mexico? Rawlins said.
Late in the afternoon he walked up the creek and stood on the level prairie with his hat in his hand and looked out across the blowing grass to the northeast. A rider was crossing the plain a mile away. He watched him.
When he got back to the camp he woke up Rawlins.
What is it? said Rawlins.
There’s somebody comin. I think it’s that gunsel.
Rawlins adjusted his hat and climbed up the bank and stood looking.
Can you make him out? called John Grady.
Rawlins nodded. He leaned and spat.
If I cant make him out I can damn sure make out that horse.
Did he see you?
I dont know.
He’s headed this way.
He probably seen me.
I think we ought to run him off.
He looked back at John Grady again. I got a uneasy feelin about that little son of a bitch.
I do too.
He aint as green as he looks, neither.
What’s he doin? said John Grady.
Ridin.
Well come on back down. He might not of seen us.
He’s stopped, said Rawlins.
What’s he doin?
Ridin again.
They waited for him to arrive if he would. It wasnt long before the horses raised their heads and stood staring downstream. They heard the rider come down into the creek bed, a rattling of gravel and a faint chink of metal.
Rawlins got his rifle and they walked out down the creek to the river. The kid was sitting the big bay horse in the shallow water off the gravel bar and looking across the river. When he turned and saw them he pushed his hat back with his thumb.
I knowed you all hadnt crossed, he said. There’s two deer feedin along the edge of them mesquite yon side.
Rawlins squatted on the gravel bar and stood the rifle in front of him and held it and rested his chin on the back of his arm. What the hell are we goin to do with you? he said.
The kid looked at him and he looked at John Grady. There wont be nobody huntin me in Mexico.
That all depends on what you done, said Rawlins.
I aint done nothin.
What’s your name? said John Grady.
Jimmy Blevins.
Bullshit, said Rawlins. Jimmy Blevins is on the radio.
That’s another Jimmy Blevins.
Who’s followin you?
Nobody.
How do you know?
Cause there aint.
Rawlins looked at John Grady and he looked at the kid again. You got any grub? he said.
No.
You got any money?
No.
You’re just a deadhead.
The kid shrugged. The horse took a step in the water and stopped again.
Rawlins shook his head and spat and looked out across the river. Tell me just one thing.
All right.
What the hell would we want you with us for?
He didnt answer. He sat looking at the sandy water running past them and at the thin wicker shadows of the willows running out over the sandbar in the evening light. He looked out to the blue sierras to the south and he hitched up the shoulder strap of his overalls and sat with his thumb hooked in the bib and turned and looked at them.
Cause I’m an American, he said.
Rawlins turned away and shook his head.
They crossed the river under a white quartermoon naked and pale and thin atop their horses. They’d stuffed their boots upside down into their jeans and stuffed their shirts and jackets after along with their warbags of shaving gear and ammunition and they belted the jeans shut at the waist and tied the legs loosely about their necks and dressed only in their hats they led the horses out onto the gravel spit and loosed the girthstraps and mounted and put the horses into the water with their naked heels.
Midriver the horses were swimming, snorting and stretching their necks out of the water, their tails afloat behind. They quartered downstream with the current, the naked riders leaning forward and talking to the horses, Rawlins holding the rifle aloft in one hand, lined out behind one another and making for the alien shore like a party of marauders.