No Country for Old Men-第3章

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　not；　he　said；　get　your　dumb　　ass　shot　out　here。　do　not　do　that。

he　turned　and　looked　at　the　sun。　it　was　about　eleven　oclock。　we　dont　even　know　that　all　　of　this　went　down　last　night。　it　could　of　been　two　nights　ago。　it　might　even　could　of　　been　three。

or　it　could　of　been　last　night。

a　light　wind　had　e　up。　he　pushed　back　his　hat　and　wiped　his　forehead　with　his　　bandanna　and　put　the　bandanna　back　in　the　hip　pocket　of　his　jeans。　he　looked　across　the　　caldera　toward　the　low　range　of　rock　on　the　eastern　perimeter。

nothin　wounded　goes　uphill；　he　said。　it　just　dont　happen。

it　was　a　good　hard　climb　to　the　top　of　the　ridge　and　it　was　close　to　noon　by　the　time　he　　got　there。　far　off　to　the　north　he　could　see　the　shape　of　a　tractor…trailer　moving　across　　the　shimmering　landscape。　ten　miles。　maybe　fifteen。　highway　90。　he　sat　and　swept　the　　new　country　with　the　glasses。　then　he　stopped。

at　the　foot　of　a　rockslide　on　the　edge　of　the　bajada　was　a　small　piece　of　something　blue。

he　watched　it　for　a　long　time　through　the　binoculars。　nothing　moved。　he　studied　the　　country　about。　then　he　watched　it　some　more。　it　was　the　better　part　of　an　hour　before　he　　rose　and　started　down。

the　dead　man　was　lying　against　a　rock　with　a　nickelplated　government　。45　automatic　　lying　cocked　in　the　grass　between　his　legs。　hed　been　sitting　up　and　had　slid　over　　sideways。　his　eyes　were　open。　he　looked　like　he　was　studying　something　small　in　the　　grass。　there　was　blood　on　the　ground　and　blood　on　the　rock　behind　him。　the　blood　was　　still　a　dark　red　but　then　it　was　still　shaded　from　the　sun。　moss　picked　up　the　pistol　and　　pressed　the　grip　safety　with　his　thumb　and　lowered　the　hammer。　he　squatted　and　tried　　to　wipe　the　blood　off　the　grips　on　the　leg　of　the　mans　trousers　but　the　blood　was　too　　well　congealed。　he　stood　and　stuck　the　gun　in　his　belt　at　the　small　of　his　back　and　　pushed　back　his　hat　and　blotted　the　sweat　from　his　forehead　with　his　shirtsleeve。　he　　turned　and　stood　studying　the　countryside。　there　was　a　heavy　leather　document　case　　standing　upright　alongside　the　dead　mans　knee　and　moss　absolutely　knew　what　was　in　　the　case　and　he　was　scared　in　a　way　that　he　didnt　even　understand。

when　he　finally　picked　it　up　he　just　walked　out　a　little　ways　and　sat　down　in　the　grass　　and　slid　the　rifle　off　his　shoulder　and　laid　it　aside。　he　sat　with　his　legs　spaced　and　the　　h&k　in　his　lap　and　the　case　standing　between　his　knees。　then　he　reached　and　　unbuckled　the　two　straps　and　unsnapped　the　brass　latch　and　lifted　the　flap　and　folded　it　　back。

it　was　level　full　of　hundred　dollar　banknotes。　they　were　in　packets　fastened　with　　banktape　stamped　each　with　the　denomination　10；000。　he　didnt　know　what　it　added　up　　to　but　he　had　a　pretty　good　idea。　he　sat　there　looking　at　it　and　then　he　closed　the　flap　　and　sat　with　his　head　down。　his　whole　life　was　sitting　there　in　front　of　him。　day　after　　day　from　dawn　till　dark　until　he　was　dead。　all　of　it　cooked　down　into　forty　pounds　of　　paper　in　a　satchel。

he　raised　his　head　and　looked　out　across　the　bajada。　a　light　wind　from　the　north。　cool。

sunny。　one　oclock　in　the　afternoon。　he　looked　at　the　man　lying　dead　in　the　grass。　his　　good　crocodile　boots　that　were　filled　with　blood　and　turning　black。　the　end　of　his　life。

here　in　this　place。　the　distant　mountains　to　the　south。　the　wind　in　the　grass。　the　quiet。

he　latched　the　case　and　fastened　the　straps　and　buckled　them　and　rose　and　shouldered　　the　rifle　and　then　picked　up　the　case　and　the　machinepistol　and　took　his　bearings　by　his　　shadow　and　set　out。

he　thought　he　knew　how　to　get　to　his　truck　and　he　also　thought　about　wandering　　through　the　desert　in　the　dark。　there　were　mojave　rattlesnakes　in　that　country　and　if　he　　got　bit　out　here　at　night　he　would　in　all　likelihood　be　joining　the　other　members　of　the　　party　and　the　document　case　and　its　contents　would　then　pass　on　to　some　other　owner。

weighed　against　these　considerations　was　the　problem　of　crossing　open　ground　in　broad　　daylight　on　foot　with　a　fully　automatic　weapon　slung　across　one　shoulder　and　carrying　a　　satchel　containing　several　million　dollars。　beyond　all　this　was　the　dead　certainty　that　　someone　was　going　to　e　looking　for　the　money。　maybe　several　someones。

he　thought　about　going　back　and　getting　the　shotgun　with　the　drum　magazine。　he　was　a　　strong　believer　in　the　shotgun。　he　even　thought　about　leaving　the　machinepistol　behind。

it　was　a　penitentiary　offense　to　own　one。

he　didnt　leave　anything　behind　and　he　didnt　go　back　to　the　trucks。　he　set　out　across　　country；　cutting　through　the　gaps　in　the　volcanic　ridges　and　crossing　the　flat　or　rolling　　country　between。　until　late　in　the　day　he　reached　the　ranch　road　hed　e　down　that　　morning　in　the　dark　so　long　ago。　then　in　about　a　mile　he　came　to　the　truck。

he　opened　the　door　and　stood　the　rifle　in　the　floor。　he　went　around　and　opened　the　　driver　door　and　pushed　the　lever　and　slid　the　seat　forward　and　set　the　case　and　the　　machine…pistol　behind　it。　he　laid　the　。45　and　the　binoculars　in　the　seat　and　climbed　in　　and　pushed　the　seat　back　as　far　as　it　would　go　and　put　the　key　in　the　ignition。　then　he　　took　off　his　hat　and　leaned　back　and　just　rested　his　head　against　the　cold　glass　behind　　him　and　closed　his　eyes。

when　he　got　to　the　highway　he　slowed　and　rattled　over　the　bars　of　the　cattleguard　and　　then　pulled　out　onto　the　blacktop　and　turned　on　the　headlights。　he　drove　west　toward　　sanderson　and　he　kept　to　the　speed　limit　every　mile　of　the　way。　he　stopped　at　the　gas　　station　on　the　east　end　of　town　for　cigarettes　and　a　long　drink　of　water　and　then　drove　　on　to　the　desert　aire　and　pulled　up　in　front　of　the　trailer　and　shut　off　the　motor。　the　　lights　were　on　inside。　you　live　to　be　a　hundred；　he　said；　and　there　wont　be　another　day　　like　this　one。　as　soon　as　he　said　it　he　was　sorry。

he　got　his　flashlight　from　the　glovebox　and　climbed　out　and　took　the　machinepistol　and　　the　case　from　behind　the　seat　and　crawled　up　under　the　trailer。　he　lay　there　in　the　dirt　　looking　up　at　the　underside　of　it。　cheap　plastic　pipe　and　plywood。　bits　of　insulation。　he　　wedged　the　h&k　up　into　a　corner　and　pulled　the　insulation　down　over　it　and　lay　there　　thinking。　then　he　crawled　back　out　with　the　case　and　dusted　himself　off　and　climbed　　the　steps　and　went　in。

she　was　sprawled　across　the　sofa　watching　tv　and　drinking　a　coke。　she　didnt　even　　look　up。　three　oclock；　she　said。

i　can　e　back　later。

she　looked　at　him　over　the　back　of　the　sofa　and　looked　at　the　television　again。　what　　have　you　got　in　that　satchel？

its　full　of　money。

yeah。　thatll　be　the　day。

he　went　into　the　kitchen　and　got　a　beer　out　of　the　refrigerator。

can　i　have　the　keys？　she　said。

where　you　goin。

get　some　cigarettes。

cigarettes。

yes；　llewelyn。　cigarettes。　i　been　settin　here　all　day。

what　about　cyanide？　how　are　we　fixed　for　that？

just　let　me　have　the　keys。　ill　set　out　in　the　damn　yard　and　smoke。

he　took　a　sip　of　the　beer　and　went　on　back　into　the　bedroom　and　dropped　to　one　knee　　and　shoved　the　case　under　the　bed。　then　he　came　back。　i　got　you　some　cigarettes；　he　　said。　let　me　get　em。

he　left　the　beer　on　the　counter　and　went　out　and　got　the　two　packs　of　cigarettes　and　the　　binoculars　and　the　pistol　and　slung　the　。270　over　his　shoulder　and　shut　the　truck　door　　and　came　back　in。　he　handed　her　the　cigarettes　and　went　on　back　to　the　bedroom。

whered　you　get　that　pistol？　she　called。

at　the　gettin　place。

did　you　buy　that　thing？

no。　i　found　it。

she　sat　up　on　the　sofa。　llewelyn？

he　came　back　in。　what？　he　said。　quit　hollerin。

what　did　you　give　for　that　thing？

you　dont　need　to　know　everthing。

how　much。

i　told　you。　i　found　it。

no　you　never　done　no　such　a　thing。

he　sat　on　the　sofa　and　put　his　legs　up　on　the　coffeetable　and　sipped　the　beer。　it　dont　　belong　to　me；　he　said。　i　didnt　buy　no　pistol。

you　better　not　of。

she　opened　one　of　the　packs　of　cigarettes　and　took　one　out　and　lit　it　with　a　lighter。

where　have　you　been　all　day？

went　to　get　you　some　cigarettes。

i　dont　even　want　to　know。　i　dont　even　want　to　know　what　all　you　been　up　to。

he　sipped　the　beer　and　nodded。　thatll　work；　he　said。

i　think　its　better　just　to　not　even　know　even。

you　keep　runnin　that　mouth　and　im　goin　to　take　you　back　there　and　screw　you。

big　talk。

just　keep　it　up。

thats　what　she　said。

just　let　me　finish　this　beer。　well　see　what　she　said　and　what　she　didnt　say。

when　he　woke　it　was　1：06　by　the　digital　clock　on　the　bedside　table。　he　lay　there　　looking　at　the　ceiling；　the　raw　glare　of　the　vaporlamp　outside　bathing　the　bedroom　in　a　　cold　and　bluish　light。　like　a　winter　moon。　or　some　other　kind　of　moon。　something　　stellar　and　alien　in　its　light　that　hed　e　to　feel　fortable　with。　anything　but　sleep　　in　the　dark。

he　swung　his　feet　from　under　the　covers　and　sat　up。　he　looked　at　her　naked　back。　her　　hair　on　the　pillow。　he　reached　and　pulled　the　blanket　up　over　her　shoulder　and　got　up　　and　went　into　the　kitchen。

he　took　the　jar　of　water　from　the　refrigerator　and　unscrewed　the　cap　and　stood　there　　drinking　in　the　light　of　the　open　refrigerator　door。　then　he　just　stood　there　holding　the　　jar　with　the　water　beading　cold　on　the　glass；　looking　out　the　wind