All the Pretty Horses

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Authors: Cormac McCarthy
Tags: Literary, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Contemporary Fiction
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lucky? said Rawlins.
    John Grady shook his head doubtfully.
    They saddled the horses and they offered to pay the man for their feed but he frowned and waved them away and they shook hands again and he wished them a good voyage and they mounted up and rode out down the rutted track south. A dog followed them out a ways and then stood watching after them.
    The morning was fresh and cool and there was woodsmoke in the air. When they topped the first rise in the road Rawlins spat in disgust. Look yonder, he said.
    Blevins was sitting the big bay horse sideways in the road.
    They slowed the horses. What the hell do you reckon is wrong with him? said Rawlins.
    He’s just a kid.
    Shit, said Rawlins.
    When they rode up Blevins smiled at them. He was chewing tobacco and he leaned and spat and wiped his mouth with the underside of his wrist.
    What are you grinnin at?
    Mornin, said Blevins.
    Where’d you get the tobacco at? said Rawlins.
    Man give it to me.
    Man give it to you?
    Yeah. Where you all been?
    They rode their horses past him either side and he fell in behind.
    You all got anything to eat? he said.
    Got some lunch she put up for us, said Rawlins.
    What have you got?
    Dont know. Aint looked.
    Well why dont we take a look?
    Does it look like lunchtime to you?
    Joe, tell him to let me have somethin to eat.
    His name aint Joe, said Rawlins. And even if it was Evelyn he aint goin to give you no lunch at no seven oclock in the mornin.
    Shit, said Blevins.
    They rode till noon and past noon. There was nothing along the road save the country it traversed and there was nothing in the country at all. The only sound was the steady clop of the horses along the road and the periodic spat of Blevins’ tobacco juice behind them. Rawlins rode with one leg crossed in front of him, leaning on his knee and smoking pensively as he studied the country.
    I believe I see cottonwoods yonder, he said.
    I believe I do too, said John Grady.
    They ate lunch under the trees at the edge of a small ciénaga. The horses stood in the marshy grass and sucked quietly at the water. She’d tied the food up in a square of muslin and they spread the cloth on the ground and selected from among the quesadillas and tacos and bizcochos like picnickers, leaning back on their elbows in the shade with their boots crossed before them, chewing idly and observing the horses.
    Back in the old days, said Blevins, this’d be just the place where Comanches’d lay for you and bushwhack you.
    I hope they had some cards or a checkerboard with em while they was waitin, said Rawlins. It dont look to me like there’s been nobody down this road in a year.
    Back in the old days you had a lot more travelers, said Blevins.
    Rawlins eyed balefully that cauterized terrain. What in the putrefied dogshit would you know about the old days? he said.
    You all want any more of this? said John Grady.
    I’m full as a tick.
    He tied up the cloth and stood and began to strip out of hisclothes and he walked out naked through the grass past the horses and waded out into the water and sat in it to his waist. He spread his arms and lay backward into the water and disappeared. The horses watched him. He sat up out of the water and pushed his hair back and wiped his eyes. Then he just sat.
    They camped that night in the floor of a wash just off the road and built a fire and sat in the sand and stared into the embers.
    Blevins are you a cowboy? said Rawlins.
    I like it.
    Everbody likes it.
    I dont claim to be no top hand. I can ride.
    Yeah? said Rawlins.
    That man yonder can ride, said Blevins. He nodded across the fire toward John Grady.
    What makes you say that?
    He just can, that’s all.
    Suppose I was to tell you he just took it up. Suppose I was to tell you he’s never been on a horse a girl couldnt ride.
    I’d have to say you was pullin my leg.
    Suppose I was to tell you he’s the best I ever saw.
    Blevins spat into the fire.
    You doubt that?
    No, I dont doubt it. Depends on who you seen

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