Cities of the Plain(37)

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 thumbnail 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 while he 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 Juárez 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.