had was her grandaddy, said Archer. You remember that Roscoe dog, Travis?
Of course I do. People thought he was part bluetick but he was a full leopard cur with a
glass eye and he did love to fight. We lost him down in Nyarit. Jaguar caught him and bit
him damn near in two.
You all dont hunt down there no more.
No.
We aint been back since before the war. It got to be a long ways to go them last few
trips. Lee Brothers had about quit goin. They brought a lot of jaguars out of that
country, too.
JC leaned and spat into the fire. The flames were snaking up along the sides of the stump.
You all didnt care bein way off down there in old Mexico thataway?
We always got along with them people.
You dont need to go far to get in trouble, said Archer. You want trouble you can find all
you can say grace over right across that river yonder.
That's an amen on that.
You cross that river you in another country. You talk to some of these old waddies along
this border. Ask em about the revolution.
Do you remember the revolution, Travis?
Archer here can tell you moren what I can.
You was in swaddlin clothes wasnt you, Travis?
Just about it. I do remember bein woke up one time and goin to the window and we looked
out and you could see the guns goin off over there like it was the fourth of July.
We lived on Wyoming Street, said Archer. After Daddy died. Mama's Uncle Pless worked in a
machine shop on Alameda and they brought in the firingpins out of two artillery pieces and
asked him could he turn new ones and he turned em and wouldnt take a dime for it. They was
all on the side of the rebels. He brought the old pins home and give em to us boys. There
was one shop turned some cannon barrels out of railroad axles and they dragged em back
across the river behind a team of mules. The trunnions was made out of Ford truck axle
housings and they set em in wood sashes and used the wheels off of fieldwagons to mount em
in. That was in November of nineteen and thirteen. Villa come into Ju‡rez at two oclock in
the mornin on a train he'd highjacked. It was just a flatout war. Lots of folks in El Paso
had their windowlights shot out. Some people killed, for that matter. They'd go down and
stand along the river there and watch it like it was a ballgame.
Villa come back in nineteen and nineteen. Travis can tell ye. We'd slip over there and
hunt for souvenirs. Empty shellcases and what not. There was dead horses and mules in the
street. Storewindows shot out. We seen bodies laid out in the alameda with blankets over
em or wagonsheets. That sobered us up, I can tell you. They made us take showers with the
Mexicans fore they'd let us back in. Disinfected our clothes and all. There was typhus
down there and people had died of it.
They sat smoking quietly and looking out at the distant lights in the valley floor below
them. Two of the dogs came in out of the night and passed behind the hunters. Their
shadows trotted across the stone bluff and they crossed to a place in the dry dust under
the rocks where they curled up and were soon asleep.
None of it done anybody any good, Travis said. Or if it did I never heard of it.
I been all over that country down there. I was a cattlebuyer for Spurlocks. Supposed to be
one. I was just a kid. I rode all over northern Mexico. Hell, there wasnt no cattle. Not
to speak o£ Mostly I just visited. I liked it. I liked the country and I liked the people
in it. I rode all over Chihuahua and a good part of Coahuila and some of Sonora. I'd be
gone weeks at a time and not have hardly so much as a peso in my pocket but it didnt make
no difference. Those people would take you in and put you up and feed you and feed your
horse and cry when you left. You could of stayed forever. They didnt have nothin. Never
had and never would. But you could stop at some little estancia in the absolute dead
center of nowhere and they'd take
Of course I do. People thought he was part bluetick but he was a full leopard cur with a
glass eye and he did love to fight. We lost him down in Nyarit. Jaguar caught him and bit
him damn near in two.
You all dont hunt down there no more.
No.
We aint been back since before the war. It got to be a long ways to go them last few
trips. Lee Brothers had about quit goin. They brought a lot of jaguars out of that
country, too.
JC leaned and spat into the fire. The flames were snaking up along the sides of the stump.
You all didnt care bein way off down there in old Mexico thataway?
We always got along with them people.
You dont need to go far to get in trouble, said Archer. You want trouble you can find all
you can say grace over right across that river yonder.
That's an amen on that.
You cross that river you in another country. You talk to some of these old waddies along
this border. Ask em about the revolution.
Do you remember the revolution, Travis?
Archer here can tell you moren what I can.
You was in swaddlin clothes wasnt you, Travis?
Just about it. I do remember bein woke up one time and goin to the window and we looked
out and you could see the guns goin off over there like it was the fourth of July.
We lived on Wyoming Street, said Archer. After Daddy died. Mama's Uncle Pless worked in a
machine shop on Alameda and they brought in the firingpins out of two artillery pieces and
asked him could he turn new ones and he turned em and wouldnt take a dime for it. They was
all on the side of the rebels. He brought the old pins home and give em to us boys. There
was one shop turned some cannon barrels out of railroad axles and they dragged em back
across the river behind a team of mules. The trunnions was made out of Ford truck axle
housings and they set em in wood sashes and used the wheels off of fieldwagons to mount em
in. That was in November of nineteen and thirteen. Villa come into Ju‡rez at two oclock in
the mornin on a train he'd highjacked. It was just a flatout war. Lots of folks in El Paso
had their windowlights shot out. Some people killed, for that matter. They'd go down and
stand along the river there and watch it like it was a ballgame.
Villa come back in nineteen and nineteen. Travis can tell ye. We'd slip over there and
hunt for souvenirs. Empty shellcases and what not. There was dead horses and mules in the
street. Storewindows shot out. We seen bodies laid out in the alameda with blankets over
em or wagonsheets. That sobered us up, I can tell you. They made us take showers with the
Mexicans fore they'd let us back in. Disinfected our clothes and all. There was typhus
down there and people had died of it.
They sat smoking quietly and looking out at the distant lights in the valley floor below
them. Two of the dogs came in out of the night and passed behind the hunters. Their
shadows trotted across the stone bluff and they crossed to a place in the dry dust under
the rocks where they curled up and were soon asleep.
None of it done anybody any good, Travis said. Or if it did I never heard of it.
I been all over that country down there. I was a cattlebuyer for Spurlocks. Supposed to be
one. I was just a kid. I rode all over northern Mexico. Hell, there wasnt no cattle. Not
to speak o£ Mostly I just visited. I liked it. I liked the country and I liked the people
in it. I rode all over Chihuahua and a good part of Coahuila and some of Sonora. I'd be
gone weeks at a time and not have hardly so much as a peso in my pocket but it didnt make
no difference. Those people would take you in and put you up and feed you and feed your
horse and cry when you left. You could of stayed forever. They didnt have nothin. Never
had and never would. But you could stop at some little estancia in the absolute dead
center of nowhere and they'd take
Similar Books
