Blood Meridian

Or the Evening Redness in the West

noon blood

Or red at twilight in the western land

Written by

Corman McCarthy

Translated by

Ranya

Clarification message from the translator

- Because the copyright of the story remains with the family.

McCarthy

The translator just translated it because he wanted to introduce Thai readers to this novel. Therefore, only 2 chapters were translated. Readers can read the full English version here.

https://archive.org/details/blood-meridian-or-the-evening-redness/mode/2up

- McCarthy

Punctuation is not commonly used to separate sentences. Might make reading difficult. The translator will maintain this style in the Thai translation by omitting the separation of clauses with spaces at some points. In other words, there may be some strange spaces, but I believe you can get used to it after reading for a while. I'm resting. When the translator reads the original English version, he finds that the obstacles gradually decrease.

- There is actually no use of rat teeth (“...") in this piece of literature. The translator didn't make a typo, haha.

*** Warning ***

In chapters 1 and 2 that the reader is about to see. Contains violent content Depressing content, murder, use of vulgar language. and racist expressions Please use your discretion when viewing.

I

Childhood in Tennessee - Running Away from Home - New Orleans -

Fighted - Shot - Went to Galveston - Nagodoches -

Reverend Father Green – Judge Holden – The Quarrel – Toadwine –

Burn the hotel – escape

Look at that kid. His body is pale and haggard. He's dressed shabbily. Sitting in the kitchen blowing a fire Outside was a dark field with patches of snow leading to an even darker forest. Next to the pier, there were only a few last wolves left. It is believed that his clansmen were probably water bearers, but in reality his father was the headmaster.

Now Father was drunk and reciting words from poets who had lost their names forever. A boy sits by the fire and looks at his father.

The night of your birth, thirty-three, Nabhavamfondararasingh. His Majesty, the stars are falling down. I beg for help in Antika. A treasure when the stars and plows fade away

My mother had been dead for fourteen years after nursing and nurturing the devil who would kill her in her arms. Dad never said Mom's name. So I don't know my mother. He had a sister in this world, whom he would never see again. He looked pale and filthy, could not read or write, and in his heart was filled with hatred and a thirst for violence. Habits are shown on the face from childhood in this part until adulthood in the next part.

The boy ran away from home at the age of fourteen. The cold kitchen will never be seen again in the pre-dawn darkness. Firewood, various pots and stoves He wandered as far as Memphis. A lone refugee on a flat grazing landscape. There's an awkward black man in the farm. They are all hunched over after work. Fingers look like spiders among cotton anchors.

Suffering is hidden beneath the shadows of the garden, competing with the sun that is sinking low and dusk on the thin horizon. A solitary, dark-skinned farmer drives his mule through the rain-soaked marshland into the night.

The next year he was in St. Louis. Got on a pontoon to New Orleans. Forty-two days on the river At night the steamboat blew its whistle and swayed through the dark waters like a floating city. They smashed the boat and sold the wood. Then he walked onto the road and heard a strange language. He lived in a room above the yard behind the tavern, and he came down at night like a fabled beast to fight the sailors.

He wasn't big, but he had big hands and narrow shoulders. The boy's face was incredibly youthful beneath the scars. His eyes were miraculously innocent. They patch together with their hands, with their paws, with bottles or knives. every ethnic group There are people whose speech sounds like a roaring monkey. There were people who came from far away places so strange that standing and looking at them lying bleeding on the mud at their feet made one realize the shamefulness of humanity.

One night a Maltese shipbuilder took a small gun and fired at him in the back. When I turned to take issue with him, he was hit by another shot that came close to the heart. When he finished, the man fled, and he leaned against the edge of the table, blood soaking his shirt. The others turned away, and a moment later, he sat on the floor in a heap.

He slept on a cot in an upstairs room for two weeks with the wife of the brewery boss looking after him. She brought in food. Take out his shit. She is a sharp, strong woman like a man. After being cured, he had no money to pay, so she sneaked out at night and slept on the bank of the river until she could find a boat. That ship was going to Texas.

It was at this moment that the boy released all the karma that was attached to him from the past. His origins are as far away as his destiny, and there will be no other place in this world that is as cruel and barbaric as he is to test him if all creation is shaped by the mind of a person or it will be. It could not be proved that his heart was not just a lump of mud.

The passengers accompanying him were shy. No one looked at anyone or asked about their history. He slept on the lip of the ship. A stranger among strangers He watched the dim shore ripple up and down. Gray seabirds stare intently. Flocks of pelicans glided above the dim waves.

Then everyone carried their belongings ashore. They looked at the low river bank and the sandbanks and pine branches that swayed behind the mist.

He walked down the alleys on the pier. The air smells of salt and new sawdust. At night, a whore cries out from the darkness like a ghost moaning. After a week he moved again and got some money in his pocket. Walking late at night on the southern sandy road alone. A handful tucked into the pocket of a cheap cotton coat.

There is a path cleared to cross the pond. Baby egrets walk hobbling like white candle flames on the moss. The wind stings the skin and blows the leaves along the road and into the meadow under the dark sky. He turned north past villages and fields. He works for money every day. He saw a traitorous murderer hanged at the crossroads of the village with his friends around him pulling his legs.

His corpse was still hanging from the end of the rope. The mucus seeped out in dark circles on his pants.

He works in a sawmill. Doing housework to help people with diphtheria He received wages for farm work on an old mule and rode it that afternoon through the Republic of Fredonia in the spring of Eighteen Hundred and Forty-Nine before reaching Nagodoches.

Pastor Green has been preaching to crowds every day since it started raining and pouring in for two weeks now. The young man slipped into a ramshackle tent. There was room to stand along the perimeter, but it was narrow. Drunk people, soaked and wet, walked in and out, taking a breather, only to be chased back in by the rain. He was standing secretly with the others in the back. The only thing that separates him from everyone around him is that he doesn't carry a weapon.

My children, said the priest, how can he not get out of this evil place, this evil, evil, evil place in Nagodoches? So I said to him: Are you going to take your Son in with you? Then he answered: Oh no, no, Father. And I said: Don't you know that You said that I will always follow you even to the end?

Well, he said, I'm not asking anyone to follow me anywhere. And I said: My son, you don't have to ask. He will follow you every step of the way, whether I ask or not. He said: My son, I can't escape You. Now, I will. Drag him, your majesty, to do bad karma together over there?

Have you ever experienced heavy rain like this anywhere?

The young man was watching the priest. He turned to the man he had spoken to. The man had a long beard typical of a cowherd, and he wore a wide-brimmed hat with a low, curved top. His eyes were wide-eyed and he waited anxiously for the boy's answer to know what the other person thought of Fon.

I just arrived, the young man replied.

Oh, this rain is worse than anything I've ever seen.

young boy nods A giant man wearing an oilcloth raincoat entered the tent and took off his hat. His head was completely bald, and he had no stubble, no mustache, no eyebrows, no eyelashes. He was seven feet tall and stood smoking a cigar. Even now he was under the roof of the Lord's Wanderer's house. He seemed to have taken off his hat just to shake off the rain because he now wore it back on his head.

The priest suddenly stopped his sermon. No one made a sound in the tent. Everyone stared at the male visitor. He adjusted his hat and walked over to the crate pulpit where the priest was standing, and there he turned to address the congregation. His face was calm and strangely childlike. His hands are small. He held out both of his hands.

Ladies and gentlemen, I realize that it must be my duty to inform you that this man who is preaching is a liar. He had no documents from any sacred institution, official or unofficial. He has no character to serve his professed faith and all he does is memorize a few paragraphs from the Bible so that he can attach them to a fake sermon that will sound like a religion. he detests Actually,

The man who stands here pretending to be His Majesty's servant not only lacks all proper education, but he is also a criminal under the laws of Tennessee, Kentucky, Mississippi, and Arkansas.

Oh my goodness, the priest is lying, lying! He turned quickly to recite words from the Bible that was open before him.

Among the lawsuits is the most recent charge involving an eleven year old girl. It's only eleven. The mouse came to him in trust and was attacked by him with treacherous acts while she was still wearing the garments of her God.

The crowd cheered. One woman fainted and collapsed.

It's this, the priest sobbed. It's this, you evil devil. It's standing here.

Catch this evil creature and hang him. Said an evil man from the back aisle.

It had only been less than three weeks since he had escaped from Fort Smith. Arkansas for having sex with a goat That's right, ma'am. I didn't say the wrong thing, Goat.

If I shoot that bastard and he doesn't hit me, I want him to be blind. A man standing far away at the edge of the tent said, pulling a gun from his boot before taking aim and shooting.

The young cowboy quickly pulled out a knife from his shirt and cut the tent fabric and walked out into the rain. The young boy followed. The pair crouched low and ran through the mud towards the hotel. Just now, the sound of a gunshot could be heard inside the tent, and dozens of exits were cut through the canvas wall, allowing the crowd to spill out. The women screamed. People huddle and collide.

People on the ground were trampled into the mud. The young boy and his friend stepped on the hotel terrace and wiped the water from their eyes and looked back. At that moment, the tent began to sway and sway like a giant, wounded snake creature moaning before slowly calming down on the ground, leaving scraps of canvas and tattered ropes all around.

The bald man was already at the bar when they entered.

On the polished wood in front of him lay two hats and two handfuls of coins. He raised his glass but did not raise it towards them. They stood at the bar and ordered whiskey. The boy put down the money but the bartender put his thumb back and nodded. The judge serves liquor here, he said.

They drank. The cowboy put down his glass and looked at the young boy. Or he just turned that way. No one could tell where exactly his eyes turned. The young man looked at the bar next to where the judge was standing. The bar was so high that not everyone could even put their elbows on it, but the edge only reached the level of the judge's waist, and he stood with his hands flat on the wooden board. recline slightly

As if about to say something Now people were gathering in front of the door, bleeding, covered in mud, cursing and cursing. They came to crowd the judges. A mob is being assembled to hunt down the preacher.

Tul, do you know where the evidence of that evil nation comes from?

evidence? The judge said

When did you go to Fort Smith?

Fort Smith?

Where did you know all that?

You mean Reverend Green?

Yes, sir. I thought you were at Fort Smith before coming here.

I had never been to Fort Smith before. I don't think he ever will either.

They looked at each other back and forth.

Well, where did you find it?

I had never seen that man's face before until today. I've never even heard the name before.

He raised his glass and drank.

There was a strange silence in the room. Those people looked like mud statues. Finally, someone burst out laughing. Then followed by another person. Later, they all laughed. Someone buys alcohol to feed the judge.

It had been raining for sixteen consecutive days when he met Todwine, and it was still raining that day. He was standing in the same tavern and he had exchanged all his money for liquor until there was only two dollars left. The cowherd had gone, and the room was now empty. The door was open and you could see the rain falling in the empty field behind the hotel.

He downed the entire glass and walked out. There was a wooden plank lying on top of the mud, so he followed the line of light that filtered through the doorway to find a latrine, a room made out of crude planks, at the end of the courtyard. Another man was coming out of the toilet and the two of them met halfway on a narrow wooden plank. The man in front of him swayed back and forth.

The soaked brim of his hat fell over his shoulders except for the front where a pin held it in place. One of his hands was loosely gripping the bottle. Don't get in my way, he said.

The young man was not going to flee, and he saw no point in delaying the bargain. He kicked the man in the chin. The man fell but got up again. This time he also said: I'm going to kill you.

He swung the bottle at him, but the boy ducked and dodged it before he swung it again and the boy took a step back. When the young man fought back, the man slammed the bottle on the side of his head, causing it to break. He staggered off his board and stepped on the mud when the man swooped in after him with a shark-mouthed bottle and tried to poke his eye with the sharp end. The young man defended until his hands were covered in blood. He was still trying to reach for the knife in his boot.

I'll kill you, the man said. The two of them bounced around in the darkness of the field. Leave your shoes off. The young man now grabbed the knife and the two of them walked around like crabs, and when the man lunged at him, he cut the knife, causing the other man's shirt to tear. The man threw away the neck of the bottle and pulled a large bowie knife from the sheath behind his neck. His hat was off and thick strands of black hair twisted like shackles on his head, and he boiled his threats down to a single word: kill, chanting it out like a perverse prayer.

We're already in a frenzy. A man in the group, watching from the sidewalk, spoke up.

Kill, kill, the man was babbling, ready to pounce.

But there was someone else running onto the field. His voice was heavy and heavy like a cow's. He brought a large staff. He reached the young man first and slammed the stick until the young man fell and hit his head in the mud. He would have died if no one had turned him over.

When he awoke, he found that the sun had risen and the rain had stopped, and he was looking up to see the face of a man with long hair covered in mud. The man was speaking ominously to him.

What do you say? the young boy said

I'm asking if you accept it yet?

Surrender?

Give in, because if you take it again, I'll make it a mess.

He looked up at the sky, and up there, a tiny speck, a small falcon perched. He turned to look at the man. Is my neck broken? he said

The man looked out into the courtyard and spat, then looked back at the young man again. You can't get up?

I don't know. I haven't tried it yet.

I don't mean to break your neck.

Isn't it?

I intend to kill you.

Still no one can kill me. He pressed his hands into the mud and pushed himself up. The man was sitting on a plank with his boots next to him. You weren't deformed, he said.

The young boy stared hard-eyed out into the sunlight. Where are my shoes? he asked

The man looked at the young man intently. Dried mud was peeling off from his face.

I'm going to have to kill one of them if he steals the shoes.

It's like you can see it on the side.

The young boy waded through the mud to reach for one of his boots. Wobbling through the field in mud.

Is this a knife? he asked

The man stared at him, probably right, he said.

The young man threw it to him, then he bent over to pick it up and wiped the large blade against the leg of his pants. I thought someone had stolen you. He said to the knife.

The boy found another boot and sat back on the board. His hands were covered in mud and he brushed one hand against his knee for a while before letting it go.

The two sat next to each other, looking at the Yian Tian field. There was a wooden fence around the outside of the courtyard, and next to it, a boy was seen fetching water from a pond and a flock of chickens in a pen. Another man walked from the brewery door to enter the restroom. He stopped where they were sitting and looked before stepping onto the dirt. After a while, he returned and stepped on the dirt again to go up the back passage.

The young man looked at the person next to him. His head looked strangely narrow and his hair was drenched in a strange hairstyle like that of a savage. His forehead was burned with letters.

H T

and lower down to about between the eyes in letters

F

These marks have wide edges and are clearly deep, similar to the brand's iron having been soaked for too long. When he turned to look at the young man, the young man saw that he had no ears. He stood up and sheathed his knife and started walking with his boots in his hand, and the boy got up to follow. Halfway to the hotel, the man stopped to look at the muddy ground and sat down on a board to put on his boots.

that are still covered in mud like that Then he got up and walked briskly across the field to pick up the specimen.

I want you to look at this, he said, at the tip of my damn hat.

No one could tell what exactly that was. What kind of corpse is it? He shakes off the remains, pulls them over his head, and continues walking, followed by the young man.

The tavern was a long, narrow hallway lined with polished wooden planks. There were tables along the wall and several porta-potties on the floor. There were no customers. The brewer looked up as he saw them enter the shop as the negro who was sweeping the floor put his broom against the wall and left.

Where is Sydney? The man in the mud suit said.

I think he's still in the bed.

They continued walking.

Toad wine, the brewer calls.

The young boy turned around.

The brewer walked out from behind the bar and looked after them. The two of them walked through the hotel hall from the door and were about to climb the stairs, leaving muddy stains on the floor. When they were at the base of the stairs, the waiter at the table leaned over and called out.

Toadwine

He stopped and turned to look.

He'll definitely shoot you.

Is that Sydney?

Ai Sydney

They continued walking up the stairs.

The top of the staircase continued with a long walkway with window lights at the end. There were polished wooden doors lining the adjoining walls that almost looked like cabinet doors. Toadwine walked all the way to the end. He listened at the last door and looked at the young man.

Do you have matches?

The boy searched in his pocket and found a battered and stained wooden box.

The man took it away. It would take some fuel, he said. He crumpled up the box and put the bits in the door. He lit a match and burned the pieces of wood. Then he pushed the little fire that was burning under the door and added more matches.

Is it in the room? the young boy asked

Well, we're about to see it right now.

A twisted plume of black smoke rose. Just blue from burnt polished wood. They crouched and waited to look in the hallway, a thin fire beginning to spread along the door. The two people sitting there looked like some kind of corpse that had been dug up from the mud.

Go here and knock on the door, Toadwine said.

young boy gets up Toadwine got up and waited. They could hear the sound of fire burning in the room. young boy knocking

Knock loudly, this guy looks like he's going to drink alcohol.

He clenched his fist and pounded on the door five times.

Hellfire, a voice said.

arrived

they wait

It's hot, that voice said. Then the knob was turned and the door opened.

He stood in his underwear and still held a towel, which he used to turn the doorknob. When he saw the two of them, he turned around and walked back into the room, but Toadwine grabbed him by the neck and threw him on the floor. He grabbed him by the hair and managed to poke out the other person's eyeball with his thumb. The man grabbed his wrist and bit it.

Kick his damn mouth, Toadwine calls, kick him.

The young boy walked into the room and spun around and kicked the man in the face. Toadwine ran a hand through his hair to hold his head in place.

Kick him in the mouth, he shouts, oh, kick him, my son.

he kicks

Toadwine pulled the blood-soaked head around and looked at it, leaving it there on the ground, then got up and kicked the man himself. There were two people milling about in the hallway. The door was completely engulfed by flames and it also began to spread up the walls and ceiling. They came out and walked down the hall. The waiter was coming up the stairs two steps at a time.

I suck at wine, he said.

Toadwine was four steps higher than him and when he kicked, he hit the other man in the neck. The waiter sat down on the steps. When a young man passed by, he kicked him in the head and the waiter tipped over and slowly slid towards the base. The young man walked over him and walked into the lobby and across through the front door to exit.

Toadwine is running down the road. He raised his fist above his head and laughed hysterically. It looked like a large voodoo clone doll that had been consecrated to life, and the boy looked exactly the same. Behind them, flames licked the corners of the hotel and clouds of black smoke rose against the warm Texas morning.

He had left his fish with a Mexican family that kept animals on the edge of town, and he arrived in a state of panic and hysteria. A woman answered the door.

I'm here to take the bait. He let out a loud noise.

She continued to examine him. Then turn to call someone behind the house. He walked around. There were many horses tied up in the field and a wagon parked against a fence guarded by a flock of turkeys. An old woman came out of the back door.

Nito (

Many) she called

Venga. Hay un caballero aquf. Venga. (

Come take a look. There's a gentleman coming. Come quickly.)

He went to the horse hut and got back a shabby saddle and a rolled up blanket. He found his mule and untied the rope and put on a rough leather bridle and led it to the fence. He placed his shoulder on the mount, then put the saddle over it and fastened it. The snake began to jerk and shake its body and rub its head against the fence. He led it across the field. Lu continued to shake his head left and right as if something was in his ear.

He led it out to the road. As he passed the house, the woman followed suit. When she saw him put his feet in the stirrups, she ran. He threw himself onto the broken saddle and rode forward. She stopped at the fence and looked behind him. He didn't turn around to look.

When he passed back into the city, the hotel was on fire and people were milling about. It looked like someone was holding an empty bag. People sat and watched the flames from their horses, and one of them was a judge. As the young man rode past on a mule, the judge turned to look. He turned his horse's face as if to get his mount to look at him as well. When the young man turned around, the judge smiled at him. The boy stomped his foot at the fish and the pair continued wading through the mud past the old stone fort on the western side of the road.

II

Across the Prairie – A Solitary Man – A Negro Heart –

Stormy Night – Further west – Herding company – Their generosity –

Back on the road again – corpse wagon – San Antonio de Bexar –

Mexican tavern - another quarrel - abandoned church

People die in the worship room – at the river crossing.

bathe in the river

These days he had to beg for alms or steal. For many days he rode a mule in a place where there was not a soul but himself. He left behind a land of pine forests and the setting sun, far beyond the boundless gorges, and darkness covered the land like lightning and the cool winds colored the grass. The night sky was so densely dotted with stars that the black void was barely visible, and they descended through the night in a bitter arc without any trace of their number.

He avoided the highway for fear of the people. The little prairie wolves howled all night and the morning light touched the green hillside hole where he had sheltered from the wind. The tied mule stood watching the eastern light.

The rising sun is the color of steel. His and Luo's shadows stretched for miles ahead. He wore a hat made from leaves that cracked under the sun on his head, making him look like a madman wandering out of his favorite garden to chase away birds.

As evening came, he followed the trail of smoke that hung among the low hills, and before nightfall he was at the door of the old yogi's house, who hid his nest under a mound of grass like a ground sloth. Din was secluded, almost mentally deranged. The rim of the eye is red, like it's surrounded by hot wire. But still know

He watched silently as the young man lowered his rigid body from the horse. The rough wind was flapping his dirty shirt.

You can see the smoke coming from your eyes, said the young man. He thought he would give me a sip of water.

The old lonely man scratched his dirty hair and looked at the ground. He turned and walked into the hut, the young man following.

Inside, it was dark, smelling of dirt, a small fire burned on the bare floor, and the only furniture was a pile of parchment clustered in a corner. An old man walked through the dim light. Hunched over to avoid the low ceiling made from woven grass and mud. He pointed at the canister on the floor. The young man bent down and grabbed a bowl of floating gourd shells, pressed the water down, then lifted it up and drank the salty, sulphurous water. He continued drinking.

I'm going to ask for some water to give to my old man outside as well?

The old man began pounding his palms with his fists and exchanging glances.

I'm happy to go fetch new water for you. Just tell me where to scoop it up.

So what are you going to use?

The young man looked at the water can and then at the dimly lit surroundings of the hut.

I don't drink the same bucket of water as you. said the stranger.

Don't you have any other bags?

No, the stranger cried. No, I don't. He was pounding the heels of both his fists on his chest at the same time.

The young man stood up and looked towards the door. I'll find it myself, he said, where is the well?

On that hill, follow the path.

It's nearly dark like this and you shouldn't be able to see.

The path is deep. Feel it with your feet. Let me lead you. I won't go.

He stepped out into the wind and turned towards Lu, but Lu was not there. Far to the south, lightning flashed soundlessly. He walked up the grassy path and saw a fish standing at the well.

A hole dug into the sand with rocks surrounding the mouth of the well. Dry skins were used as coverings and stones were used as weights. There is a bag made from rawhide and ropes made from smooth, shiny leather. The bucket had a rock attached to it to keep it tilted while scooping, and he let it go down until the rope in his hand slackened as he looked over his shoulder to see.

He scooped up three buckets and held them so that the mule wouldn't spill. Then he covered the pond with a piece of leather and led the mule back on the way to the hut.

Thank you for the water, he said.

The usually reclusive man appeared in the dark behind the door, joining his eyes first, he said.

It's okay, bud.

It's better to stay. The storm will soon pass.

Do you think so?

The eye thinks, and the eye thinks right.

okay

Bring in the bed. Bring whatever you bring.

He undid the saddle and threw it away, then took the mule and tied it to the front and back legs and brought in a mattress roll. There was no other light than the fire and an old man sitting cross-legged by the fire.

Where, where, he said, where is An Lan?

The young boy nodded.

Don't leave it outside or it will get eaten by something. This place is hungry.

He walked out and ran towards Lu in the dark. He was secretly standing and looking at the fire inside the hut.

Go away, Ai Ngang said. He carried the saddle back in.

Now let's close the door before the wind blows us all away. The old man said.

The door was made of heavy wooden panels held together by leather hinges. He pulled it and scraped the ground and tied it with a latch made of leather straps.

My eyes guessed that you were lost. The strange man said

No, I've come to the right place.

He waved his hand to dismiss the old man. No, no, he said. He meant that you must have gotten lost before coming to this direction. Met a sandstorm? Or have you wandered off the road at night? Or did a thief rob you?

The young man considered. Yes, he said. We had strayed from the main road. I don't know how.

I said it already.

How long have you been here?

Where is?

The young man was sitting on his own mattress across from the fire and the old man was right here, he said, right here.

The old man didn't answer. He turned his head to the side and held his nose with his thumb and index finger. He sneezed two strands of snot onto the floor and wiped his fingers on the seam of his jeans. Eyes are from Mississippi. Grandpa used to be a slave trader. I don't want to tell too much. You just know enough to make good money. My eyes were never caught, just fed up, fed up with the Negroes. I'll show you something.

He turned to rummage through the pile of leather sheets and produced a small, dark object sticking through the fire. The young boy picked it up and turned it over to look at it. Someone's heart was dry and black. He held it back and the old man held it in the palm of his hand as if weighing him.

There are four things that can destroy the world, he said: women, whiskey, money and Negroes.

They sat in silence. The wind howled in the chimney that ran up the ceiling to carry smoke away from the hut. After a while, the old man took the heart and picked it up.

Grandfather bought it for two hundred dollars, he said.

Is that all you paid for two hundred dollars?

Yes, it was the price of the fucked black man who used to have this lump hanging in his chest.

He walked around the corner and returned with an old, blackened brass kettle. He lifted the lid and stuck one finger into it. Inside was the carcass of a long field rabbit in cold wax covered in blue mold flowers. He put the lid back on the kettle and set it over the fire. There aren't many, but we'll share. He said.

Thank you.

You are lost in the dark, said the old man. He flicked the fire, took out a shard of bone, and set it outside the ashes.

The young man didn't answer.

The old man shook his head back and forth. The way of a heretic is difficult to live with. God created this world. But He didn't create everyone to live well, don't you think?

I think God probably didn't think about me when he created the world.

Yes, said the old man, but what can a person do? Have you ever seen a world that was a better place to live in?

I know what a good place, a good life, is like.

So can you make it come true?

no

No, that's a mystery. A person must know what he thinks because his thoughts make him know. He can please you. But he doesn't want to, so it's better not to do that. Even though our hearts are not of any business for God to know. You can see evil in all animals. But when God created man, he had the devil at his side.

A noble animal that can do everything. build machines and machines that make machines and create evil that can continue on its own for thousands of years without having to look good and support it Do you believe it?

I don't know.

You'll know soon.

When the remains of the old man's meal were warm, he scooped them up and shared them among them in silence. The thunder was moving north, and soon it rumbled overhead, shaking rusty shards down the furnace chimney. They hunched over and ate from plates and smeared their fingers over the food and drank water from bowls.

The young man went out to fetch a cup and a plate and sanded it, then came back and tapped the two zinc utensils against each other as if he were trying to chase away an evil ghost in the darkness. The storm clouds in the distance turned and flickered with lightning and were sucked back into the darkness. again The old man sat listening to the wind. young boy closes the door

You didn't bring tobacco, right?

There are no eyes, the boy said.

I didn't expect that you would have one.

Do you think it will rain?

It can be, but it probably won't.

young boy sitting and looking at the fire Now I'm starting to doze off. Finally, he stood up and shook his head. The usually reclusive man looked over the fire, which was dying at him, and went to lay down on a mattress, he said.

He did so, laying down a sheet on the muddy floor and taking off his stinky boots. The chimney groaned and he could hear the sound of paws stomping outside, and as he lay he tossed and turned and dunked inside. Neck like a dog dreaming

He awoke in the middle of the night in a nearly pitch-black hut and a strange man was stooping over him, still in bed.

What will your eyes do? he asked, but the stranger crawled away and in the morning he woke up to find the hut empty, so he packed up his things and left.

All that day he had watched the faint dust line to the north. It seemed to be standing still, and the cold shafts he could see were moving towards him. He passed through a shady oak forest and drank from a stream, then moved on under the twilight sky and camped without building a fire. Big and small birds woke him up from the dry, dusty logs where he had slept.

After a while he returned to wander the fields again, and the dust of the north spread far and wide, touching the edges of the earth. As evening fell, the first herd of cows came into view. A tall, fierce-faced creature with enormous horns stretching wide. That night he sat in the herder camp eating beans and hard bread and listening to the stories of these travelers' lives.

They were coming down from Abilene. Forty days already Heading for a market in Louisiana, trailing a pack of wolves, coyotes and Indians. A herd of hooves moaned around them, miles away in the dark.

No one asked him anything. They were also in a very bad condition. I guess people are hybrids. People are free Negroes. There were two Indians.

I had my shirt stolen, he said.

They nodded under the lights.

They took it all away. I just don't have a knife.

You can come work with us. I just lost two people. Going back to California

I'll go over there.

At first I thought she was going to California alone.

It might go, I don't know yet.

One of our men went to join the guys from Arkansas. They were going down to Bexar. I'm going to Mexico and then out west.

I bet those bastards are drinking their heads off in Bexar.

I'll bet that Lonny's probably fucked all the whores in town.

How far is Bexarny?

Maybe two days.

I think it's further than that. I think it will take about four days.

If I want to go, how do I go?

You go straight south and in half a day you'll find a road.

Are you going to Bexar?

might go

If you meet Lonnie there, tell him to bring it for me. Said he knew Oren. It would have been fed liquor if it hadn't squandered its money first.

In the morning they ate wild rabbits and molasses, and the men saddle up their cattle and continue their journey. When he found his mule, there was a bag of wood pulp tied to a rope and inside were a handful of dried beans and black pepper and a fine knife with a handle wrapped around the rope. He wore a mule over his saddle. The mule's back was so badly damaged that its fur began to fleece and its hooves and feet cracked.

The ribs are prominently bulging like fish bones. The two of them wandered across the boundless field.

He arrived in Bexar on the evening of the fourth day and made the exhausted mule rest on a hill and look down on the city. Green lines of oak and cottonwood trees flank the river. The plaza was crowded with carts covered with coarse linen, with whitewashed buildings and domes of Muslim churches towering above the treetops, and gallows and gunpowder warehouses in the distance. A gentle breeze whipped the brims of hats. Greasy hair clumps

His eyes were hidden in the shadows of deep sockets, his face was haggard and exhausted, and a stench wafted from the shoebox. The sun had just set and to the west appeared a bush of blood-red clouds from which the little night birds of the desert were flying out like refugees from the doomsday fire ball. He spat out white saliva and gripped his foot in the wooden stirrups, slamming it into his ribs, and they both staggered again.

He was walking down a narrow sandy road, and at that moment he came across a funeral wagon laden with corpses. There was a small bell ringing and a lantern flickering from the gate. Three men sat on a crate, looking no different from dead people or perhaps ghosts whose bodies were so white they were covered in lime until they almost glowed under the twilight sky.

A pair of horses pulled a cart and they walked down the road, smelling a rancid smell, then slowly got out of sight. He turned and watched the people leave. The dead man's stiff, bare feet shook back and forth.

By the time he reached the city, it was already evening. There are dogs barking to welcome you. People's faces moved behind the lantern-lit curtains. The soft clatter of hooves echoed far away in the small, empty street. Zhao Lu sniffed the air and swung his body down an alley that led to a starlit square that revealed a water well.

A water trough for animals to drink from. A rack for tying animals The young man brought himself down and took a canopy from the mouth of the rock well and lowered it down to get water. The sound of splashing water echoed faintly. He lifted the bag. water dripping into darkness He dipped his own canteen and drank it and shoved his face in his elbow. After finishing his work, he placed his can on the road and sat down to rest on the mouth of the well and watched the fish drink water from the can.

He leads his animals through the city. There was no one to be seen. Then he reached the square and he heard the sound of several guitars and a trumpet. In the far corner of the square there were lights from restaurants and laughter and high-pitched cries. He led the mule into the square and crossed one of the long balconies towards the lights.

There were troupes of dancers on the streets wearing brightly colored clothes and speaking in Spanish. He and Lu stood watching from the light. The old men sat against the tavern wall while the children played in the dirt. Everyone is dressed strangely. The men wore dark, plain peaked hats. white nightshirt Long pants that buttoned on the outside of the legs and a young woman with bright colors on her face, a tortoiseshell comb in her shiny black and blue hair.

A young boy walked across the street with a mule and tied it up and entered a restaurant. There were a number of men standing at the bar and all of them stopped talking as soon as he entered. He walked across the polished terracotta floor, past a dog lying down with one eye open, and he stood at the bar and placed both hands on the tiles. The brewer nodded.

Digame (

What do you want?) He said.

I don't have any money and I want some liquor. I'll go empty the potty for you or mop the floor or whatever.

The brewer looked across the room to two men playing dominoes at the table.

Abuelito (

eyes) he said

The eldest of the pair raised their heads.

Que dice el muchacho (

What did that young man say?)

The old man turned to look at the young man and then back to Domino again.

The brewer shakes his shoulder.

The young boy turned to the old man. Do you speak American? he said

The old man looked up from the game he was playing. He gave the boy a deadpan look.

Tell him I'll work in exchange for booze. I don't have money.

The old man raised his chin and clicked his tongue.

The young man looked towards the brewer.

The old man clenched his fist with his thumb up and his pinky down. He leaned his head back and drank a glass of Maya liquor.

Quiere echarse una copa, (

It said he would take liquor) he said.

Pero no puede pagar. (

But I don't have a single penny.)

The other guys at the bar watched.

The brewer looked at the young man.

Quiere trabajo. (

It will work in exchange) said the old man.

Quien sabe. (

Will you give it to me?) He turned back to playing the game without giving any further advice.

Quieres trabajar. (

He wants to work.) A man at the bar said.

They started laughing together.

What are you guys laughing at? The boy said

They stopped, some turned to look, some pursed their lips or shrugged. The boy turned to the brewer. Brother, I have a job for you to do in exchange for a penny or two of liquor. I know for sure.

Another person at the bar said something in Spanish. boy staring They winked at each other. Then each picked up their glass.

He turned to the brewer again. His dark eyes narrowed, sweeping the floor, he said.

The brewer blinked.

The young man stepped back and made a sweeping motion with his hands. It was a pantomime that made the nearby drinkers secretly amused. Sweep, he said, pointing to the floor.

No esta sucio (

The floor wasn't dirty.) The brewer said.

He pretended to sweep the floor again, sweep, hey, he said.

The brewer shrugged. He went to the end of the bar and returned with a broom. The boy took it and walked to the back of the room.

It's a big hall. He silently rubbed the corner of the nook where the potted plants stood in the dark. He avoided the potty and the person sitting at the table playing video games and the dog. He swept the line in front of the bar, and when he reached the point where people were standing drinking, he straightened up, leaned on his broom, and looked at them. They discussed it among themselves in silence.

And finally one of them picked up his own glass from the bar and stepped out. The others followed suit. The young boy swept past them and reached the door.

The dancers left with the music. Across the street, a man sat on a bench, dimly lit by the light pouring through the restaurant door. Lu still stood where he was tied. He tapped his broom against the steps and returned and put the broom in the same corner where the brewer had brought it. Then he stood back at the bar.

The brewer ignores him.

The young boy tapped his knuckles and called out.

The brewer turned and placed a hand on his waist and stretched his lips tight.

Now can I say goodbye? The young man said.

The brewer was standing there.

The young man gestured with his hand like he had seen an old man do, downing a glass and drinking, and the brewer lazily flicked the tablecloth at him.

Andale (

You can go.) He said, slapping the back of his hand like he was chasing him.

The young man's face lit up. "You bastard," he said. He pretended to climb up the bar. The brewer's expression did not change. He picked up a soldier's gun from under the bar, a musket, and he chopped the bird with the heel of his hand. A sharp clink sounded in the silence. There was the sound of glasses clinking in another part of the bar. Then there was a crackling sound as the person who had been playing the game pushed their chair against the wall.

The young man froze, the old man spoke.

The old man didn't reply. There was no sound in the restaurant. The young man turned to look.

Esta borracho (

This young man is drunk.) The old man said.

The boy looked into the eyes of the brewer.

The brewer waved his gun towards the door.

The old man spoke to the others in the room in Spanish. Then turned and spoke to the brewer. before putting on his own hat

The person who made the liquor looked tired. When he came around the edge of the bar, he put down his gun and instead grabbed a wooden mallet for hammering open liquor barrels.

The young man retreated to the middle of the room and the brewer shrugged towards him with the demeanor of someone who just had to do housework. He swung it at the youth twice and the youth moved his right two steps. Then he backed away. The brewer froze. The young man leapt across the bar and picked up the gun. No one moved. He scraped the metal bar against the bar table to open it, then poured out the saltpeter and put the gun down again. Then he picked up a pair of bottles from the shelf behind where he stood and walked around the edge of the bar, holding a bottle of liquor in each hand.

The brewer stood in the middle of the room. He gasped as he watched the youth's movements. As the youth approached, he raised his wooden hammer. The young man crouched and slammed the bottle in his right hand onto the head of the man in front of him. Blood and liquor squirted out together and the man fell to his knees and squinted. The young man had already let go of the neck of the bottle and threw the second bottle into his right hand. Swinging it properly, he grabbed the neck of the bottle before it fell to the ground. Then he slammed the second bottle into the brewer's skull and took out the remaining broken glass. Stuffed into his eyes while he was falling.

The young boy looked around the room. Someone in the crowd had a gun on their belt, but no one moved. The boy jumped over the bar and picked up another bottle, tucked it under his arm and walked out the door. The dog was gone and the man on the bench was gone. He untied the noose and led it across the square.

He wakes up in the middle of a ruined church. Blinking, he looked up at the arched ceiling and high walls decorated with faded frescoes covering rags. The floor of the church was thickly stained with dried bird excrement, as well as cow and sheep excrement. Doves fluttered through the dusty rays and three falcons hopped on the cleanly gnawed bones of something dead in front of the altar.

His head ached and his tongue swollen with thirst. He sat up and looked around. He had put the bottle under the saddle and found it again and picked it up, shook it and turned the cork and drank. He sat with his eyes closed. Large beads of sweat poured from his forehead. Then he opened his eyes and drank again. The hawks descended one by one and trotted into the storage room. After a while, he got up and went out to look for the fish.

No matter how I look, I can't find it. The sanctuary covered an enclosed area of ​​about eight or ten acres. In the nearby wasteland there were some goats and donkeys. Within the mud-sculpted walls of the dwelling are the ramshackle huts of homeless families and bonfires glowing faintly in the sun. He walked around the side of the church to the storage room.

The hawks bounced across the haystacks and plaster floor like giant chickens. The ceiling dome overhead was tufted with masses of dark fur that moved and chirped. Inside the room was a wooden table and a few clay pots, and under the back wall were several corpses. One figure was a child. He walked through the storeroom, returned to the church and picked up the saddle. He drank the remaining water in his bottle and lifted the saddle over his shoulder and left.

The church's facade depicts saints seated in rows and shot by American soldiers with rifles. Those images had missing ears and noses and had dark spots from bullet holes that had rusted into the stone. A huge carved door hangs limply on its hinges and a stone statue of the Virgin holding a headless infant in her arms.

He stood blinking in the midday heat. Then he saw the marks. A trace so faint that the dust barely moved led out of the church door and over the fence towards the eastern wall. He lifted the saddle high on his shoulders and followed.

A dog was under the shade of a rose arch, and it leapt out into the sunlight so fiercely that when he passed it it retreated. He took the downhill road that would meet the river. The whole body is ragged. He entered a deep forest of pecan and oak trees and the road rose steeply, allowing him to see the river below. The black men were washing the sedans on the water crossing, and he walked down the hill and stood on the bank and called out.

They were taking a damp cloth and wiping the polished wood all over, and one of them stood up and turned to look at him. The harness horse stood with its knees buried in the current.

what? Black person said

Did you see the mule?

Huh?

I lost my mule. I think it might have come this way.

The black man wiped his face with the back of his arm. What could have walked past the road an hour ago? I think it goes to the river over there. It could be a mule. I didn't see that it had a tail or fur, but I remembered that its ears were long.

The other two black people smiled. A young boy looks along the river He spat and walked on the path through the willows and tall grasses.

He found it about a hundred yards downstream. It was wet all the way to its stomach, and it looked up at him and continued to sink its head into the green river grass. He threw down the saddle and tied a thick rope to its legs and kicked it tiredly. It moved a bit and continued to graze. He raised his hand and placed it on his pate, but the damn hat had fallen somewhere.

He walked through the trees and stood watching the cool water flowing by. He waded into the water like a mentally unstable person doing a baptism.