Cities of the Plain(19)
You want to go to the White Lake?
I dont have any more money.
The driver drummed his fingers on the back of the seat. You dont have no monies?
No.
The driver shook his head. No monies, he said. Okay. You want to go back to the Avenida?
I cant pay you.
Is okay.
He started the engine and backed down the alley toward the street. You pay me next time. Okay?
Okay.
Okay.
WHEN HE PASSED Billy’s room the light was on and he stopped and pushed open the canvas and looked in. Billy was lying in bed. He lowered the book he was reading and looked over the top of it and then laid it down.
What are you readin?
Destry. Where you been?
You ever been to a place called the White Lake?
Yes I have. One time.
Is it real expensive?
It’s real expensive. Why?
I was just wonderin about it. See you in the mornin.
He let the canvas fall and turned and went on down the bay to his room.
You better stay out of the White Lake, son, Billy called.
John Grady pushed open the curtain and felt for the lightchain.
It aint no place for a cowboy.
He found the chain and pulled the light on.
You hear me?
HE LIMPED DOWN the hallway after breakfast with his hat in his hand. Mr Mac? he called.
McGovern came to the door of his office. He had some papers in his hand and some more wedged under his elbow. Come on in, son, he said.
John Grady stood in the door. Mac was at his desk. Come on in, he said. What do you need that I aint got?
He looked up from his papers. John Grady was still standing in the doorway.
I wonder if I could draw some on next month’s pay.
Mac reached for his billfold. How much did you need.
Well. I’d like to get a hundred if I could.
Mac looked at him. You can have it if you want, he said. What did you aim to do next month?
I’ll make out.
He opened the billfold and counted out five twenties. Well, he said. I guess you’re big enough to handle your own affairs. It aint none of my business, is it?
I just needed it for somethin.
All right.
He shuffled the bills together and leaned and laid them on the desk. John Grady came in and picked them up and folded them and stuck them in his shirtpocket.
Thank you, he said.
That’s all right. How’s your foot?
It’s doin good.
You’re still favorin it I see.
It’s all right.
You still intend to trade for that horse?
Yessir. I do.
How did you know Wolfenbarger’s filly had a bad hoof?
I could see it.
She didnt walk lame.
No sir. It was her ear.
Her ear?
Yessir. Ever time that foot hit the ground one ear would move a little. I just kept watchin her.
Sort of like a poker tell.
Yessir. Sort of.
You didnt want to go off horsetradin with the old man though.
No sir. Is he a friend of yours?
I know him. Why?
Nothin.
What were you goin to say?
That’s all right.
You can say it. Go ahead.
Well. I guess I was goin to say that I didnt think I could keep him out of trouble on no part time basis.
Like it would be a full time job?
I didnt say that.
Mac shook his head. Get your butt out of here, he said.
Yessir.
You didnt tell him that did you?
No sir. I aint talked to him.
Well. That’s a shame.
Yessir.
He put on his hat and turned but stopped again at the door.
Thank you sir.
Go on. It’s your money.
When he came in that evening Socorro had already left the kitchen and there was no one at the table except the old man. He was smoking a homerolled cigarette and listening to the news on the radio. John Grady got his plate and his coffee and set them on the table and pulled back the chair and sat.
Evenin Mr Johnson, he said.
Evenin son.
What’s the news?
The old man shook his head. He leaned across the table to the windowsill where the radio sat and turned it off. It aint news no more, he said. Wars and rumors of wars. I dont know why I listen to it. It’s a ugly habit and I wish I could get broke of it but I think I just get worse.
John Grady spooned pico de gallo over his rice and his flautas and rolled up a tortilla and commenced to eat. The old man watched him. He nodded at the boy’s boots.
You look like you been in some pretty mirey country today.
Yessir. I was. Some.
That old greasy clay is hard to clean off of anything. Oliver Lee always said he come out here because the country was so sorry nobody else would have it and he’d be left alone. Of course he was wrong. At least about bein left alone.
Yessir. I guess he was.
How’s your foot doin.
It’s all right.
The old man smiled. He drew on his cigarette and tapped the ash into the ashtray on the table.
Dont be fooled by the good rains we’ve had. This country is fixin to dry up and blow away.
How do you know?
It just is.
You want some more coffee?
No thanks.
The boy got up and went to the stove and filled his cup and came back.