Cities of the Plain(43)

You up for the day? said Billy.

I hope not.

What time is it?

I dont know.

Billy sipped his coffee. He reached in his pocket for his cigarettes.

Did you just get in? John Grady said.

Yep.

I reckon the answer was no.

You reckon right, little hoss.

Well.

It’s about what you expected aint it?

Yeah. Did you offer him the money?

Oh we had a pretty good visit, take it all around.

What did he say.

Billy lit his cigarette and laid the lighter on top of the pack. He said she didnt want to leave there.

Well that’s a lie.

Well that may be. But he says she aint leavin.

Well she is.

Billy blew smoke slowly across the table. John Grady watched him.

You just think I’m crazy, dont you?

You know what I think.

Well.

Why dont you take a good look at yourself. Look at what it’s brung you to. Talkin about sellin your horse. It’s just the old story all over again. Losin your head over a piece of tail. Cept in your case there aint nothin about it makes any sense. Nothin.

In your eyes.

In mine or any man’s.

He leaned forward and began to count off on the fingers of the hand that held the cigarette: She aint American. She aint a citizen. She dont speak english. She works in a whorehouse. No, hear me out. And last but not least—he sat holding his thumb—there’s a son of a bitch owns her outright that I guarangoddamntee you will kill you graveyard dead if you mess with him. Son, aint there no girls on this side of the damn river?

Not like her.

Well I’ll bet that’s the truth if you ever told it.

He stubbed out the cigarette. Well. I’ve gone as far as I can go with you. I’m goin to bed.

All right.

He pushed back his chair and rose and stood. Do I think you’re crazy? he said. No. I dont. You’ve rewrote the book for crazy. If all you are is crazy then all them poor bastards in the loonybin that they’re feedin under the door need to be set loose in the street.

He put the cigarettes and lighter in his shirtpocket and carried the cup and bowl to the sink. At the door he stopped again and looked back. I’ll see you in the mornin, he said.

Billy?

Yeah.

Thanks. I appreciate it.

I’d say you’re welcome but I’d be a liar.

I know it. Thanks anyway.

You aim to sell that stallion?

I dont know. Yeah.

Maybe Wolfenbarger will buy him.

I thought about that.

I expect you did. I’ll see you in the mornin.

John Grady watched him walk across the yard toward the barn. He leaned and wiped the beaded water from the window glass with his sleeve. Billy’s shadow shortened across the yard until he passed under the yellow light over the barn door and then he stepped through into the dark of the barn and was lost to view. John Grady let the curtains fall back across the glass and turned and sat staring into the empty cup before him. There were grounds in the bottom of the cup and he swirled the cup and looked at them. Then he swirled them the other way as if he’d put them back the way they’d been.


HE STOOD IN THE GROVE of willows with his back to the river and watched the road and the vehicles that moved along the road. There was little traffic. The dust of the few cars hung in the dry air long after the cars were gone. He walked on down to the river and squatted and watched the passing water murky with clay. He threw in a rock. Then another. He turned and looked back toward the road.

The cab when it came stopped at the turnoff and then backed and turned and came rocking and bumping down the rutted mud road and pulled up in the clearing. She got out on the far side and paid the driver and spoke briefly with him and the driver nodded and she stepped away. The driver put the cab in gear and put his arm across the seat and backed the cab and turned. He looked toward the river. Then he pulled away out to the road and went back toward town.

He took her hand. Tenía miedo que no vendrías, he said.

She didnt answer. She leaned against him. Her black hair falling about her shoulders. The smell of soap. The flesh and bone living under the cloth of her dress.

Me amas? he said.

Sí. Te amo.

He sat on a cottonwood log and watched her while she waded in the gravel shallows. She turned and smiled at him. Her dress gathered about her brown thighs. He tried to smile back but his throat caught and he looked away.

She sat on the log beside him and he took her feet in his hands each in turn and dried them with his kerchief and fastened with his own fingers the small buckles of her shoes. She leaned and put her head on his shoulder and he kissed her and he touched her hair and her breasts and her face as a blind man might.

Y mi respuesta? he said.

She took his hand and kissed it and held it against her heart and she said that she was his and that she would do whatever he asked her if it take her life.