All the Pretty Horses

it.
    I could get used to this life.
    He drew on the cigarette and held it out to one side and tapped the ash with a delicate motion of his forefinger. It wouldnt take me no time at all.
    They rode all day the day following through rolling hill country, the low caprock mesas dotted with cedar, the yuccas in white bloom along the eastfacing slopes. They struck the Pandale road in the evening and turned south and followed the road into town.
    Nine buildings including a store and filling station. Theytied their horses in front of the store and went in. They were dusty and Rawlins was unshaven and they smelled of horses and sweat and woodsmoke. Some men sitting in chairs at the back of the store looked up when they entered and then went on talking.
    They stood at the meatcase. The woman came from the counter and walked behind the case and took down an apron and pulled a chain that turned on the overhead lightbulb.
    You do look like some kind of desperado, John Grady said.
    You dont look like no choir director, said Rawlins.
    The woman tied the apron behind her and turned to regard them above the white enameled top of the meatcase. What’ll you boys have? she said.
    They bought baloney and cheese and a loaf of bread and a jar of mayonnaise. They bought a box of crackers and a dozen tins of vienna sausage. They bought a dozen packets of koolaid and a slab end of bacon and some tins of beans and they bought a five pound bag of cornmeal and a bottle of hotsauce. The woman wrapped the meat and cheese separate and she wet a pencil with her tongue and totted up the purchases and then put everything together in a number four grocery bag.
    Where you boys from? she said.
    From up around San Angelo.
    You all ride them horses down here?
    Yes mam.
    Well I’ll declare, she said.
    When they woke in the morning they were in plain view of a small adobe house. A woman had come out of the house and slung a pan of dishwater into the yard. She looked at them and went back in again. They’d hung their saddles over a fence to dry and while they were getting them a man came out and stood watching them. They saddled the horses and led them out to the road and mounted up and turned south.
    Wonder what all they’re doin back home? Rawlins said.
    John Grady leaned and spat. Well, he said, probably they’re havin the biggest time in the world. Probably struck oil. I’d saythey’re in town about now pickin out their new cars and all.
    Shit, said Rawlins.
    They rode.
    You ever get ill at ease? said Rawlins.
    About what?
    I dont know. About anything. Just ill at ease.
    Sometimes. If you’re someplace you aint supposed to be I guess you’d be ill at ease. Should be anyways.
    Well suppose you were ill at ease and didnt know why. Would that mean that you might be someplace you wasnt supposed to be and didnt know it?
    What the hell’s wrong with you?
    I dont know. Nothin. I believe I’ll sing.
    He did. He sang: Will you miss me, will you miss me. Will you miss me when I’m gone.
    You know that Del Rio radio station? he said.
    Yeah, I know it.
    I’ve heard it told that at night you can take a fencewire in your teeth and pick it up. Dont even need a radio.
    You believe that?
    I dont know.
    You ever tried it?
    Yeah. One time.
    They rode on. Rawlins sang. What the hell is a flowery boundary tree? he said.
    You got me, cousin.
    They passed under a high limestone bluff where a creek ran down and they crossed a broad gravel wash. Upstream were potholes from the recent rains where a pair of herons stood footed to their long shadows. One rose and flew, one stood. An hour later they crossed the Pecos River, putting the horses into the ford, the water swift and clear and partly salt running over the limestone bedrock and the horses studying the water before them and placing their feet with great care on the broad traprock plates and eyeing the shapes of trailing moss in the rips below the ford where they flared and twisted electric green in themorning light. Rawlins leaned from the saddle and wet his hand in the river and tasted it. It’s gypwater, he said.
    They dismounted among the willows on the far side and made sandwiches with the lunchmeat and cheese and ate and sat smoking and watching the river pass. There’s been somebody followin us, John Grady said.
    Did you see em?
    Not yet.
    Somebody horseback?
    Yeah.
    Rawlins studied the road across the river. Why aint it just somebody ridin?
    Cause they’d of showed up at the river by now.
    Maybe they