《No Country for Old Men》第42章

ho　has just　buried　something。　i　dont　know　a　damn　thing；　he　said。
when　he　got　home　she　had　supper　waiting。　he　dropped　the　keys　to　the　pickup　in　the kitchen　drawer　and　went　to　the　sink　to　wash　his　hands。　his　wife　laid　a　piece　of　paper　on the　counter　and　he　stood　looking　at　it。
did　she　say　where　she　was？　this　is　a　west　texas　number。
she　just　said　it　was　carla　jean　and　give　the　number。
he　went　to　the　sideboard　and　called。　she　and　her　grandmother　were　in　a　motel　outside of　el　paso。　i　need　for　you　to　tell　me　somethin；　she　said。
all　right。
is　your　word　good？
yes　it　is。
even　to　me？
id　say　especially　to　you。
he　could　hear　her　breathing　in　the　receiver。　traffic　in　the　distance。
sheriff？
yes　mam。
if　i　tell　you　where　he　called　from　do　you　give　your　word　that　no　harm　will　e　to　him。
i　can　give　my　word　that　no　harm　will　e　to　him　from　me。　i　can　do　that。
after　a　while　she　said：　okay。
the　man　sitting　at　the　little　plywood　table　that　folded　up　from　the　wall　onto　a　hinged　leg finished　writing　on　the　pad　of　paper　and　took　off　the　headset　and　laid　it　on　the　table　in front　of　him　and　passed　both　hands　backwards　over　the　sides　of　his　black　hair。　he turned　and　looked　toward　the　rear　of　the　trailer　where　the　second　man　was　stretched　out on　the　bed。　listo？　he　said。
the　man　sat　up　and　swung　his　legs　to　the　floor。　he　sat　there　for　a　minute　and　then　he rose　and　came　forward。
you　got　it？
i　got　it。
he　tore　the　sheet　off　the　pad　and　handed　it　to　him　and　he　read　it　and　folded　it　and　put　it into　his　shirtpocket。　then　he　reached　up　and　opened　one　of　the　kitchen　cabinets　and took　out　a　camouflage…finished　submachinegun　and　a　pair　of　spare　clips　and　pushed open　the　door　and　stepped　down　into　the　lot　and　shut　the　door　behind　him。　he　crossed the　gravel　to　where　a　black　plymouth　barracuda　was　parked　and　opened　the　door　and pitched　the　machinegun　in　on　the　far　seat　and　lowered　himself　in　and　shut　the　door　and started　the　engine。　he　blipped　the　throttle　a　couple　of　times　and　then　pulled　out　onto　the blacktop　and　turned　on　the　lights　and　shifted　into　second　gear　and　went　up　the　road　with the　car　squatting　on　the　big　rear　tires　and　fishtailing　and　the　tires　whining　and unspooling　clouds　of　rubbersmoke　behind　him。
。。
No　Country　for　Old　MenVIII
～
ive　lost　a　lot　of　friends　over　these　last　few　years。　not　all　of　em　older　than　me neither。　one　of　the　things　you　realize　about　gettin　older　is　that　not　everbody　is　goin　to get　older　with　you。　you　try　to　help　the　people　thatre　payin　your　salary　and　of　course you　cant　help　but　think　about　the　kind　of　record　you　leave。　this　county　has　not　had　a unsolved　homicide　in　forty…one　years。　now　we　got　nine　of　em　in　one　week。　will　they　be solved？　i　dont　know。　ever　day　is　against　you。　time　is　not　on　your　side。　i　dont　know　as itd　be　any　pliment　if　you　was　known　for　second　guessin　a　bunch　of　dopedealers。
not　that　they　have　all　that　much　trouble　second　guessin　us。　they　dont　have　no　respect for　the　law？　that　aint　half　of　it。　they　dont　even　think　about　the　law。　it　dont　seem　to　even concern　em。　of　course　here　a　while　back　in　san　antonio　they　shot　and　killed　a　federal judge。　i　guess　he　concerned　em。　add　to　that　that　theres　peace　officers　along　this　border gettin　rich　off　of　narcotics。　thats　a　painful　thing　to　know。　or　it　is　for　me。　i　dont　believe that　was　true　even　ten　years　ago。　a　crooked　peace　officer　is　just　a　damned　abomination。
thats　all　you　can　say　about　it。　hes　ten　times　worse　than　the　criminal。　and　this　aint goin　away。　and　thats　about　the　only　thing　i　do　know。　it　aint　goin　away。　where　would　it go　to？
and　this　may　sound　ignorant　but　i　think　for　me　the　worst　of　it　is　knowin　that　probably the　only　reason　im　even　still　alive　is　that　they　have　no　respect　for　me。　and　thats　very painful。　very　painful。　it　has　done　got　way　beyond　anything　you　might　of　thought　about even　a　few　years　ago。　here　a　while　back　they　found　a　dc…4　over　in　presidio　county。
just　settin　out　in　the　desert。　they　had　e　in　there　of　a　night　and　graded　out　a　sort　of landin　strip　and　set　out　rows　of　tarbarrels　for　lights　but　there　was　no　way　you　could　of flown　that　thing　back　out　of　there。　it　was　stripped　out　to　the　walls。　just　had　a　pilots　seat in　it。　you　could　smell　the　marijuana；　you　didnt　need　no　dog。　well　the　sheriff　over　there —　and　i　wont　say　his　name　—　he　wanted　to　get　set　up　and　nail　em　when　they　e　back for　the　plane　and　finally　somebody　told　him　that　they　wasnt　nobody　in　back。　never had　been。　when　he　finally　understood　what　it　was　they　was　tellin　him　he　just　got　real quiet　and　then　he　turned　around　and　got　in　his　car　and　left。
when　they　was　havin　them　dope　wars　down　across　the　border　you　could　not　buy　a　half quart　masonjar　nowheres。　to　put　up　your　preserves　and　such。　your　chow　chow。　they wasnt　none　to　be　had。　what　it　was　they　was　usin　them　jars　to　put　handgrenades　in。　if you　flew　over　somebodys　house　or　pound　and　you　dropped　grenades　on　em　theyd go　off　fore　they　hit　the　ground。　so　what　they　done　was　theyd　pull　the　pin　and　stick　em down　in　the　jar　and　screw　the　lid　back　on。　then　whenever　they　hit　the　ground　the glassd　break　and　release　the　spoon。　the　lever。　they　would　preload　cases　of　them　things。
hard　to　believe　that　a　man　would　ride　around　at　night　in　a　small　plane　with　a　cargo such　as　that；　but　they　done　it。
i　think　if　you　were　satan　and　you　were　settin　around　tryin　to　think　up　somethin　that would　just　bring　the　human　race　to　its　knees　what　you　would　probably　e　up　with　is narcotics。　maybe　he　did。　i　told　that　to　somebody　at　breakfast　the　other　mornin　and　they asked　me　if　i　believed　in　satan。　i　said　well　that　aint　the　point。　and　they　said　i　know　but do　you？　i　had　to　think　about　that。　i　guess　as　a　boy　i　did。　e　the　middle　years　my belief　i　reckon　had　waned　somewhat。　now　im　startin　to　lean　back　the　other　way。　he explains　a　lot　of　things　that　otherwise　dont　have　no　explanation。　or　not　to　me　they　dont。
moss　set　the　case　in　the　booth　and　eased　himself　in　after　it。　he　lifted　the　menu from　the　wire　rack　where　it　stood　along　with　the　mustard　and　ketchup。　she　scooted　into the　booth　opposite。　he　didnt　look　up。　what　are　you　havin；　he