When the door opened next it was to admit a man in a blue suit carrying a leather bag. The man smiled at him and asked after his health.
Mejor que nunca, he said.
The man smiled again. He set the bag on the bed and opened it and took out a pair of surgical scissors and pushed the bag to the foot of the bed and pulled back the bloodstained sheet.
Quien es usted? said John Grady.
The man looked surprised. I am the doctor, he said.
The scissors had a spade end that was cold against his skin and the doctor slid them under the bloodstained gauze cummerbund and began to cut it away. He pulled the dressing from under him and they looked down at the stitches.
Bien, bien, said the doctor. He pushed at the sutures with two fingers. Bueno, he said.
He cleaned the sutured wounds with an antiseptic and taped gauze pads over them and helped him to sit up. He took a large roll of gauze out of the bag and reached around John Grady's waist and began to wrap it.
Put you hands on my shoulders, he said.
What?
Put you hands on my shoulders. It is all right.
He put his hands on the doctor's shoulders and the doctor wrapped the dressing. Bueno, he said. Bueno.
He rose and closed the bag and stood looking down at his patient.
I will send for you soap and towels, he said. So you can wash yourself.
All right.
You are a fasthealer.
A what?
A fasthealer. He nodded and smiled and turned and went out. John Grady didnt hear him latch the door but there was no place to go anyway.
His next visitor was a man he'd never seen before. He wore a uniform that looked to be military. He did not introduce himself. The guard who brought him shut the door and stood outside it. The man stood at his bed and took off his hat as though in deference to some wounded hero. Then he took a comb from the breastpocket of his tunic and passed it once along each side of his oiled head and put the hat back on again.
How soon you can walk around, he said.
Where do you want me to walk to?
To your house.
I can walk right now.
The man pursed his lips, studying him.
Show me you walk.
He pushed back the sheets and rolled onto his side and stepped down to the floor. He walked up and back. His feet left cold wet tracks on the polished stones that sucked up and vanished like the tale of the world itself. The sweat stood quivering on his forehead.
You are fortunate boys, he said.
I dont feel so fortunate.
Fortunate boys, he said again, and nodded and left.
He slept and woke. He knew night from day only by the meals. He ate little. Finally they brought him half a roast chicken with rice and two halves of a tinned pear and this he ate slowly, savoring each bite and proposing and rejecting various scenarios that might have occurred in the outer world or be occurring. Or were yet to come. He still thought that he might be taken out into the campo and shot.
He practiced walking up and down. He polished the underside of the messtray with the sleeve of his shift and standing in the center of the room under the lightbulb he studied the face that peered dimly out of the warped steel like some maimed and raging djinn enconjured there. He peeled away the bandage from his face and inspected the stitches there and felt them with his fingers.
When next he woke the demandadero had opened the door and stood with a pile of clothes and with his boots. He let them fall in the floor. Sus prendas, he said, and shut the door.
He stripped out of the shift and washed himself with soap and rag and dried himself with the towel and dressed and pulled on the boots. Someone had washed the blood out of the boots and they were still wet and he tried to take them off again but he could not and he lay on the bunk in his clothes and boots waiting for God knew what.
Two guards came. They stood at the open door and waited for him. He got up and walked out.
They went down a corridor and across a small patio and entered another part of the building. They walked down another corridor and the guards tapped at a door and then opened it and one of them motioned for him to enter.
At a desk sat the commandante who'd been to his cell to see if he could walk.
You be seated, said the commandante.
He sat.
The commandante opened his desk drawer and took out an envelope and handed it across the desk.
This is you, he said.
John Grady took the envelope.
Where's Rawlins? he said.
Excuse me?
Donde esta mi compadre.
You friend.
Yes.
He wait outside.
Where are we going?
You going away. You going away to you house.
When.
Excuse me?
Cuando.
You going now. I dont want to see you no more.
The commandante waved his hand. John Grady put one hand on the back of the chair and rose and turned and walked out the door and he and the guards went down the hallway and out through the office to the sallygate where Rawlins stood waiting in a costume much like his own. Five minutes later they were standing in the street outside the tall ironshod wooden doors of the portal.
There was a bus standing in the street and they climbed laboriously aboard. Women in the seats with their empty hampers and baskets spoke to them softly as they made their way down the aisle.
I thought you'd died, said Rawlins.
I thought you had.
What happened?
I'll tell you. Let's just sit here. Let's not talk. Let's just sit here real quiet.
Are you all right?
Yeah. I'm all right.
Rawlins turned and looked out the window. All was gray and still. A few drops of rain had begun to fall in the street. They dropped on the roof of the bus solitary as a bell. Down the street he could see the arched buttresses of the cathedral dome and the minaret of the belltower beyond.
All my life I had the feelin that trouble was close at hand. Not that I was about to get into it. Just that it was always there.
Let's just sit here real quiet, said John Grady.
They sat watching the rain in the street. The women sat quietly. Outside it was darkening and there was no sun nor any paler place to the sky where sun might be. Two more women climbed aboard and took their seats and then the driver swung up and closed the door and looked to the rear in the mirror and put the bus in gear and they pulled away. Some of the women wiped at the glass with their hands and peered back at the prison standing in the gray rain of Mexico. So like some site of siege in an older time, in an older country, where the enemies were all from without.
It was only a few blocks to the centro and when they eased themselves down from the bus the gaslamps were already on in the plaza. They crossed slowly to the portales on the north side of the square and stood looking out at the rain. Four men in maroon band uniforms stood along the wall with their instruments. John Grady looked at Rawlins. Rawlins looked lost standing there hatless and afoot in his shrunken clothes.
Let's get somethin to eat.
We dont have no money.
I got money.
Where'd you get any money at? Rawlins said.
I got a whole envelope full.
They walked into a cafe and sat in a booth. A waiter came over and put menus in front of them and went away. Rawlins looked out the window.
Get a steak, said John Grady.
All right.
We'll eat and get a hotel room and get cleaned up and get some sleep.
All right.
He ordered steaks and fried potatoes and coffee for both of them and the waiter nodded and took the menus. John Grady rose and made his way slowly to the counter and bought two packs of cigarettes and a penny box of matches each. People at their tables watched him cross the room.
Rawlins lit a cigarette and looked at him.
Why
aint we dead? he said.
She paid us out.
The senora?
The aunt. Yes.
Why?
I dont know.
Is that where you got the money?
Yes.
It's got to do with the girl, dont it?
I expect it does.
Rawlins smoked. He looked out the window. Outside it was already dark. The streets were wet from the rain and the lights from the cafe and from the lamps in the plaza lay bleeding in the black pools of water.
There aint no other explanation, is there?
No.
Rawlins nodded. I could of run off from where they had me. It was just a hospital ward.
Why didnt you?
I dont know. You think I was dumb not to of?
I dont know. Yeah. Maybe.
What would you of done?
I wouldnt of left you.
Yeah. I know you wouldnt.
That dont mean it aint dumb.
Rawlins almost smiled. Then he looked away.
The waiter brought the coffee.
There was another old boy in there, said Rawlins. All cut up. Probably wasnt a bad boy. Set out on Saturday night with a few dollars in his pocket. Pesos. Goddamned pathetic.
What happened to him?
He died. When they carried him out of there I thought how peculiar it would of seemed to him if he could of seen it. It did to me and it wasnt even me. Dying aint in people's plans, is it?
No.
He nodded. They put Mexican blood in me, he said.
He looked up. John Grady was lighting a cigarette. He shook out the match and put it in the ashtray and looked at Rawlins.
So.
So what does that mean? said Rawlins.
Mean about what?
Well does it mean I'm part Mexican?
John Grady drew on the cigarette and leaned back and blew the smoke into the air. Part Mexican? he said.
Yeah.
How much did they put?
They said it was over a litre.
How much over a litre?
I dont know.
Well a litre would make you almost a halfbreed.
Rawlins looked at him. It dont, does it? he said.
No. Hell, it dont mean nothin. Blood's blood. It dont know where it come from.
The waiter brought the steaks. They ate. He watched Rawlins. Rawlins looked up.
What? he said.
Nothin.
You ought to be happier about bein out of that place.
I was thinkin the same thing about you.
Rawlins nodded. Yeah, he said.
What do you want to do?
Go home.
All right.
They ate.
You're goin back down there, aint you? said Rawlins.
Yeah. I guess I am.
On account of the girl?
Yeah.
What about the horses?
The girl and the horses.
Rawlins nodded. You think she's lookin for you to come back?
I dont know.
I'd say the old lady might be surprised to see you.
No she wont. She's a smart woman.
What about Rocha?
He'll have to do whatever he has to do.
Rawlins crossed his silver in the platter beside the bones and took out his cigarettes.
Dont go down there, he said.
I done made up my mind.
Rawlins lit the cigarette and shook out the match. He looked up.
There's only one kind of deal I can see that she could of made with the old woman.
I know. But she's goin to have to tell me herself.
If she does will you come back?
I'll come back.
All right.
I still want the horses.
Rawlins shook his head and looked away.
I aint askin you to go with me, said John Grady.
I know you aint.
You'll be all right.
Yeah. I know.
He tapped the ash from his cigarette and pushed at his eyes with the heel of his hand and looked out the window. Outside it was raining again. There was no traffic in the streets.
Kid over yonder try in to sell newspapers, he said. Aint a soul in sight and him standin there with his papers up under his shirt just a hollerin.
He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
Ah shit, he said.
What?
Nothin. Just shit.
What is it?
I keep thinkin about old Blevins.
John Grady didnt answer. Rawlins turned and looked at him. His eyes were wet and he looked old and sad.
I caint believe they just walked him out there and done him that way.
Yeah.
I keep thinkin about how scared he was.
You'll feel better when you get home.
Rawlins shook his head and looked out the window again. I dont think so, he said.
John Grady smoked. He watched him. After a while he said: I aint Blevins.
Yeah, said Rawlins. I know you aint. But I wonder how much better off you are than him.
John Grady stubbed out his cigarette. Let's go, he said.
They bought toothbrushes and a bar of soap and a safety-razor at a farmacia and they found a room in a hotel two blocks down Aldama. The key was just a common doorkey tied to a wooden fob with the number of the room burned into the wood with a hot wire. They walked out across the tiled courtyard where the rain was falling lightly and found the room and opened the door and turned on the light. A man sat up in the bed and looked at them. They backed out and turned off the light and shut the door and went back to the desk where the man gave them another key.
The room was bright green and there was a shower in one corner with an oilcloth curtain on a ring. John Grady turned on the shower and after a while there was hot water in the pipes. He turned it off again.
Go ahead, he said.
You go ahead.
I got to come out of this tape.
He sat on the bed and peeled away the dressings while Rawlins showered. Rawlins turned off the water and pushed back the curtain and stood drying himself with one of the threadbare towels.
We're a couple of good'ns, aint we? he said.
Yeah.
How you goin to get them stitches out?
I guess I'll have to find a doctor.
It hurts worse takin em out than puttin em in.
Yeah.
Did you know that?
Yeah. I knew that.
Rawlins wrapped the towel around himself and sat on the bed opposite. The envelope with the money was lying on the table.
How much is in there?
John Grady looked up. I dont know, he said. Considerable less than what there was supposed to be, I'll bet. Go ahead and count it.
He took the envelope and counted the bills out on the bed.
Nine hundred and seventy pesos, he said.
John Grady nodded.
How much is that?
About a hundred and twenty dollars.
Rawlins tapped the sheaf of bills together on the glass of the tabletop and put them back in the envelope.
Split it in two piles, said John Grady.
I dont need no money.
Yes you do.
I'm goin home.
Dont make no difference. Half of it's yours.
Rawlins stood and hung the towel over the iron bedstead and pulled back the covers. I think you're goin to need ever dime of it, he said.
When he came out of the shower he thought Rawlins was asleep but he wasnt. He crossed the room and turned off the light and came back and eased himself into the bed. He lay in the dark listening to the sounds in the street, the dripping of rain in the courtyard.
You ever pray? said Rawlins.
Yeah. Sometimes. I guess I got kindly out of the habit.
Rawlins was quiet for a long time. Then he said: What's the worst thing you ever done?
br /> I dont know. I guess if I done anything real bad I'd rather not tell it. Why?
I dont know. I was in the hospital cut I got to thinkin: I wouldnt be here if I wasnt supposed to be here. You ever think like that?
Yeah. Sometimes.
They lay in the dark listening. Someone crossed the patio. A door opened and closed again.
You aint never done nothin bad, said John Grady.
Me and Lamont one time drove a pickup truckload of feed to Sterling City and sold it to some Mexicans and kept the money.
That aint the worst thing I ever heard of.
I done some other stuff too.
If you're goin to talk I'm goin to smoke a cigarette.
I'll shut up.
They lay quietly in the dark.
You know about what happened, dont you? said John Grady.
You mean in the messhall?
Yeah.
Yeah.
John Grady reached and got his cigarettes off the table and lit one and blew out the match.
I never thought I'd do that.
You didnt have no choice.
I still never thought it.
He'd of done it to you.
He drew on the cigarette and blew the smoke unseen into the darkness. You dont need to try and make it right. It is what it is.
Rawlins didnt answer. After a while he said: Where'd you get the knife?
Off the Bautistas. I bought it with the last forty-five pesos we had.
Blevins' money.
Yeah. Blevins' money.
Rawlins was lying on his side in the springshot iron bedstead watching him in the dark. The cigarette glowed a deep red where John Grady drew on it and his face with the sutures in his cheek emerged from the darkness like some dull red theatric mask indifferently repaired and faded back again.
I knew when I bought the knife what I'd bought it for.
I dont see where you were wrong.
The cigarette glowed, it faded. I know, he said. But you didnt do it.
In the morning it was raining again and they stood outside the same cafe with toothpicks in their teeth and looked at the rain in the plaza. Rawlins studied his nose in the glass.