All the Pretty Horses

Blevins a blanket.
    We goin to sleep now? said Blevins.
    I am.
    Did you all eat?
    Yeah, said Rawlins. Sure we ate. Wouldnt you of? We eat a big steak apiece and split a third one.
    Damn, said Blevins.
    They slept until the moon was down and they sat in the dark and smoked. John Grady watched the stars.
    What time you make it to be, bud? said Rawlins.
    First quarter moon sets at midnight where I come from.
    Rawlins smoked. Hell. I believe I’ll go back to bed.
    Go ahead. I’ll wake you.
    All right.
    Blevins went to sleep as well. He sat watching the firmament unscroll up from behind the blackened palisades of the mountains to the east. Toward the village all was darkness. Not even a dog barked. He looked at Rawlins rolled asleep in his soogan and he knew that he was right in all he’d said and there was no help for it and the dipper standing at the northern edge of the world turned and the night was a long time passing.
    When he called them out it was not much more than an hour till daylight.
    You ready? said Rawlins.
    Ready as I’m liable to get.
    They saddled the horses and John Grady handed his stakerope to Blevins. You can make a hackamore out of that, he said.
    All right.
    Keep it under your shirt, said Rawlins. Dont let nobody see it.
    There aint nobody to see it, said Blevins.
    Dont bet on it. I see a light up yonder already.
    Let’s go, said John Grady.
    There were no houselamps lit in the street where they’d seen the horse. They rode along slowly. A dog that had been sleeping in the dirt rose up and commenced barking and Rawlins made a throwing motion at it and it slunk off. When they got to the house where the horse was stabled John Grady got down and walked over and looked in the window and came back.
    He aint here, he said.
    It was dead quiet in the little mud street. Rawlins leaned and spat. Well, shit, he said.
    You all sure this is the place? said Blevins.
    It’s the place.
    The boy slid from the horse and picked his way gingerly with his bare feet across the road to the house and looked in. Then he climbed through the window.
    What the hell’s he doin? said Rawlins.
    You got me.
    They waited. He didnt come back.
    Yonder comes somebody.
    Some dogs started up. John Grady mounted up and turned the horse and went back up the road and sat the horse in the dark. Rawlins followed. Dogs were beginning to bark all back through the town. A light came on.
    This is by God it, aint it? said Rawlins.
    John Grady looked at him. He was sitting with the carbine upright on his thigh. From beyond the buildings and the din of dogs there came a shout.
    You know what these sons of bitches’ll do to us? said Rawlins. You thought about that?
    John Grady leaned forward and spoke to the horse and put his hand on the horse’s shoulder. The horse had begun to step nervously and it was not a nervous horse. He looked toward the houses where they’d seen the light. A horse whinnied in the dark.
    That crazy son of a bitch, said Rawlins. That crazy son of a bitch.
    All out bedlam had broken across the lot. Rawlins pulled his horse around and the horse stamped and trotted and he whacked it across the rump with the barrel of the gun. The horse squatted and dug in with its hind hooves and Blevins in his underwear atop the big bay horse and attended by a close retinue of howling dogs exploded into the road in a shower of debris from the rotted ocotillo fence he’d put the horse through.
    The horse skittered past Rawlins sideways, Blevins clinging to the animal’s mane and snatching at his hat. The dogs swarmed wildly over the road and Rawlins’ horse stood and twisted and shook its head and the big bay turned a complete circle and there were three pistol shots from somewhere in the dark all evenly spaced that went pop pop pop. John Grady put the heels of his boots to his horse and leaned low in the saddle and he and Rawlins went pounding up the road. Blevins passed them both, his pale knees clutching the horse and his shirttail flying.
    Before they reached the turn at the top of the hill there were three more shots from the road behind them. They turned onto the main track south and went pounding through the town. Already there were lamps lit in a few small windows. They passed through at a hard gallop and rode up into the low hills. First light was shaping out the country to the east. A mile south of the town they caught up with Blevins. He’d turned his horse in the road and he was watching them and watching the road