《No Country for Old Men》第52章

all　right。
you　wouldnt　ask　me　now　though；　would　you？
maybe　not。
you　wouldnt。
he　sipped　the　rank　black　coffee。
you　ever　think　about　harold？　bell　said。
harold？
yes。
not　much。　he　was　some　older　than　me。　he　was　born　in　ninety…nine。　pretty　sure　thats right。　what　made　you　think　about　harold？
i　was　readin　some　of　your　mothers　letters　to　him；　thats　all。　i　just　wondered　what　you remembered　about　him。
was　they　any　letters　from　him？
no。
you　think　about　your　family。　try　to　make　sense　out　of　all　that。　i　know　what　it　did　to　my mother。　she　never　got　over　it。　i　dont　know　what　sense　any　of　that　makes　either。　you know　that　gospel　song？　well　understand　it　all　by　and　by？　that　takes　a　lot　of　faith。　you think　about　him　goin　over　there　and　dyin　in　a　ditch　somewheres。　seventeen　year　old。
you　tell　me。　because　i　damn　sure　dont　know。
i　hear　you。　did　you　want　to　go　somewheres？
i　dont　need　nobody　haulin　me　around。　i　aim　to　just　set　right　here。　im　fine；　ed　tom。
it　aint　no　trouble。
i　know　it。
all　right。
bell　watched　him。　the　old　man　stubbed　out　his　cigarette　in　the　lid。　bell　tried　to　think about　his　life。　then　he　tried　not　to。　you　aint　turned　infidel　have　you　uncle　ellis？
no。　no。　nothin　like　that。
do　you　think　god　knows　whats　happenin？
i　expect　he　does。
you　think　he　can　stop　it？
no。　i　dont。
they　sat　quietly　at　the　table。　after　a　while　the　old　man　said：　she　mentioned　there　was　a lot　of　old　pictures　and　family　stuff。　what　to　do　about　that。　well。　there　aint　nothin　to　do about　it　i　dont　reckon。　is　there？
no。　i　dont　reckon　there　is。
i　told　her　to　send　uncle　macs　old　cinco　peso　badge　and　his　thumb…buster　to　the　rangers。
i　believe　they　got　a　museum。　but　i　didnt　know　what　to　tell　her。　theres　all　that　stuff　here。
in　the　chifforobe　in　yonder。　that　rolltop　desk　is　full　of　papers。　he　tilted　the　cup　and looked　into　the　bottom　of　it。
he　never　rode　with　coffee　jack。　uncle　mac。　thats　all　bull。　i　dont　know　who　started that。　he　was　shot　down　on　his　own　porch　in　hudspeth　county。
thats　what　i　always　heard。
they　was　seven　or　eight　of　em　e　to　the　house。　wantin　this　and　wantin　that。　he　went back　in　the　house　and　e　out　with　a　shotgun　but　they　was　way　ahead　of　him　and　they shot　him　down　in　his　own　doorway。　she　run　out　and　tried　to　stop　the　bleedin。　tried　to get　him　back　in　the　house。　said　he　kept　tryin　to　get　hold　of　the　shotgun　again。　they　just set　there　on　their　horses。　finally　left。　i　dont　know　why。　somethin　scared　em；　i　reckon。
one　of　em　said　somethin　in　injun　and　they　all　turned　and　left　out。　they　never　e　in the　house　or　nothin。　she　got　him　inside　but　he　was　a　big　man　and　they　was　no　way　she could　of　got　him　up　in　the　bed。　she　fixed　a　pallet　on　the　floor。　wasnt　nothin　to　be　done。
she　always　said　she　should　of　just　left　him　there　and　rode　for　help　but　i　dont　know where　it　was　she　would　of　rode　to。　he　wouldnt　of　let　her　go　noway。　wouldnt　hardly　let her　go　in　the　kitchen。　he　knew　what　the　score　was　if　she　didnt。　he　was　shot　through　the right　lung。　and　that　was　that。　as　they　say。
when　did　he　die？
eighteen　and　seventy…nine。
no；　i　mean　was　it　right　away　or　in　the　night　or　when　was　it。
i　believe　it　was　that　night。　or　early　of　the　mornin。　she　buried　him　herself。　diggin　in　that hard　caliche。　then　she　just　packed　the　wagon　and　hitched　the　horses　and　pulled　out　of there　and　she　never　did　go　back。　that　house　burned　down　sometime　back　in　the twenties。　what　hadnt　fell　down。　i　could　take　you　to　it　today。　the　rock　chimney　used　to be　standin　and　it　may　be　yet。　there　was　a　good　bit　of　land　proved　up　on。　eight　or　ten sections　if　i　remember。　she　couldnt　pay　the　taxes　on　it；　little　as　they　was。　couldnt　sell　it。
did　you　remember　her？
no。　i　seen　a　photograph　of　me　and　her　when　i　was　about　four。　shes　settin　in　a　rocker　on the　porch　of　this　house　and　im　standin　alongside　of　her。　i　wish　i　could　say　i　remember her　but　i　dont。
she　never　did　remarry。　later　years　she　was　a　schoolteacher。　san　angelo。　this　country was　hard　on　people。　but　they　never　seemed　to　hold　it　to　account。　in　a　way　that　seems peculiar。　that　they　didnt。　you　think　about　what　all　has　happened　to　just　this　one　family。
i　dont　know　what　im　doin　here　still　knockin　around。　all　them　young　people。　we　dont know　where　half　of　em　is　even　buried　at。　you　got　to　ask　what　was　the　good　in　all　that。
so　i　go　back　to　that。　how　e　people　dont　feel　like　this　country　has　got　a　lot　to　answer for？　they　dont。　you　can　say　that　the　country　is　just　the　country；　it　dont　actively　do nothin；　but　that　dont　mean　much。　i　seen　a　man　shoot　his　pickup　truck　with　a　shotgun one　time。　he　must　of　thought　it　done　somethin。　this　country　will　kill　you　in　a　heartbeat and　still　people　love　it。　you　understand　what　im　sayin？
i　think　i　do。　do　you　love　it？
i　guess　you　could　say　i　do。　but　id　be　the　first　one　to　tell　you　im　as　ignorant　as　a　box　of rocks　so　you　sure　dont　want　to　go　by　nothin　id　say。
bell　smiled。　he　got　up　and　went　to　the　sink。　the　old　man　turned　the　chair　slightly　to where　he　could　see　him。　what　are　you　doin？　he　said。
i　thought　id　just　wash　these　here　dishes。
hell；　leave　em；　ed　tom。　lupell　be　here　in　the　mornin。
it　wont　take　but　a　minute。
the　water　from　the　tap　was　gypwater。　he　filled　the　sink　and　added　a　scoop　of　soap powder。　then　he　added　another。
i　thought　you　used　to　have　a　television　set　in　here。
i　used　to　have　a　lot　of　things。
why　didnt　you　say　somethin？　ill　get　you　one。
i　dont　need　one。
keep　you　pany　some。
it　didnt　quit　on　me。　i　throwed　it　out。
you　dont　never　watch　the　news？
no。　do　you？
not　much。
he　rinsed　the　dishes　and　left　them　to　drain　and　stood　looking　out　the　window　at　the　little weedgrown　yard。　a　weathered　smokehouse。　an　aluminum　two　horse　trailer　on　blocks。
you　used　to　have　chickens；　he　said。
yep；　the　old　man　said。
bell　dried　his　hands　and　came　back　to　the　table　and　sat。　he　looked　at　his　uncle。　did　you ever　do　anything　you　was　ashamed　of　to　the　point　where　you　never　would　tell　nobody？
his　uncle　thought　about　that。　id　say　i　have；　he　said。　id　say　about　anybody　has。　what　is it　youve　found　out　about　me？
im　serious。
all　right。