Chapter 4 III

I DONT KNOW THAT law enforcement benefits all that much from new technology. Tools that comes into our hands comes into theirs too. Not that you can go back. Or that youd even want to. We used to have them old Motorola two way radios. Weve had the high-band now for several years. changed. Common sense aint changed. Ill tell my deputies sometimes to just follow the breadcrumbs. I still like the old Colts. .44-40. If that wont stop him youd better throw the thing down and take off runnin. Winchester model 97. I like it that its got a hammer. I dont like havin to hunt the safety on a gun. Of course some things are worse. That cruiser of mine is seven years old. Its got the 454 in it. You cant get that engine no more. I drove one of the new ones. It wouldn't outrun a fatman. I told the man I thought Id stick with what I had. That aint always a good policy. But it aint always a bad one neither.

This other thing I dont know. People will ask me about it ever so often. I cant say as I would rule it out altogether. It aint somethin I would like to have to see again. To witness. The ones that really ought to be on death row will never make it. I believe that. You remember certain things about a thing like that. People didnt know what to wear. There was one or two come dressed in black, which I suppose was all right. Some of the men come just in their shirtsleeves and that kindly bothered me. I aint sure I could tell you why. Still they seemed to know what to do and that surprised me. Most of em I know had never been to an execution before. When it was over they pulled this curtain around the gas-chamber with him in there settin slumped over and people just got up and filed out.

Like out of church or somethin. It just seemed peculiar. Well it was peculiar. I have to say it was probably the most unusual day I ever spent. Quite a few people didnt believe in it. Even them that worked on the row. Youd be surprised. Some of em I think had at one time. You see somebody ever day sometimes for years and then one day you walk that man down the hallway and put him to death. Well. Thatll take some of the cackle out of just about anybody. I dont care who it is. And of course some of them boys was not very bright. Chaplain Pickett told me about one he ministered to and he ate his last meal and hed ordered this dessert, ever what it was. And it come time to go and Pickett he asked him didnt he want his dessert and the old boy told him he was savin it for when he come back. I dont know what to say about that. Pickett didnt neither.

I never had to kill nobody and I am very glad of that fact. Some of the old time sheriffs wouldn't even carry a firearm. A lot of folks find that hard to believe but its a fact. Jim Scarborough never carried one. Jim. Gaston Boykins wouldn't wear one. Up in Comanche County. I always liked to hear about the old timers. Never missed a chance to do so. The old time concern that the sheriffs had for their people is been watered down some. help but feel it. Nigger Hoskins over in Bastrop County known everbodys phone number in the whole county by heart. Its an odd thing when you come to think about it. The opportunities for abuse are just about everwhere. Theres no requirements in the Texas State Constitution for being in a sheriff. Not a one. There is no such thing as a county law. about a job where you have pretty much the same authority as God and there is no requirements put upon you and you are charged with preserven nonexistent laws and you tell me if thats peculiar or not. Because I say that it is. Does it work? Yes. Ninety percent of the time. It takes very little to govern good people. Very little. And bad people cant be governed at all. Or if they could I never heard of it.

THE BUS PULLED INTO Fort Stockton at quarter to nine and Moss stood and got his bag down from the overhead rack and picked up the document case out of the seat and stood looking down at her. Don't get on an airplane with that thing, she said. They'll put you under the jail. My mama didn't raise no ignorant children. When are you going to call me. Ill call you in a few days. All right. You take care. I got a bad feelin, Llewelyn. Well, I got a good one. So they ought to balance out. I hope so. I cant call you except from a payphone. I know it. Call me. I will. Quit worryin about everything.

Llewelyn? What. Nothin. What is it. Nothin. I just wanted to say it. You take care. Llewelyn? Don't hurt nobody. You hear? He stood there with the bag slung across his shoulder. I aint makin no promises, he said. Thats how you get hurt. BELL HAD RAISED the first forkful of his supper to his mouth when the phone rang. He lowered it again. Shed started to push her chair back but he wiped his mouth with his napkin and rose. Ill get it, he said. All right. How the hell do they know when you're eatin? We never eat this late. Don't be cussin, she said. He picked up the phone. Sheriff Bell, he said.

He listened for a while. Then he said: Im goin to finish my supper. Ill meet you there in about forty minutes. Just leave the lights on on your unit. He hung up the phone and came back to his chair and sat and picked up the napkin and put it in his lap and picked up his fork. Somebody called in a car fire, he said. Just this side of Lozier Canyon. What do you make of that? He shook his head. He ate. He drank the last of his coffee. Come go with me, he said. Let me get my coat. They pulled off the road at the gate and drove over the cattleguard and pulled up behind Wendells unit. Wendell walked back and Bell rolled down the window.

Its about a half mile down, Wendell said. Just follow me. I can see it. Yessir. It was goin real good here about an hour ago. The people that called it in seen it from the road. They parked a little way off and got out and stood looking at it. You could feel the heat on your face. Bell came around and opened the door and took his wifes hand. She got out and stood with her arms folded in front of her . There was a pickup truck parked a ways down and two men were standing there in the dull red glare. They nodded each in turn and said Sheriff. We could of brought weeners, she said. Yeah. Marshmallers.

You wouldn't think a car would burn like that. No, you wouldn't. Did you all see anything? No sir. Just the fire. Didnt pass nobody or nothin? No sir. Does that look to you like about a 77 Ford, Wendell? It could be. Id say it is. Was that what the old boy was drivin? Yeah. Dallas plates. It wasn't his day, was it Sheriff. It sure wasn't. Why do you reckon they set fire to it? I dont know. Wendell turned and spat. Wasnt what the old boy had in mind when he left Dallas I dont reckon, was it? Bell shook his head. No, he said. I guess it was about the farthest thing from his mind.

In the morning when he got to the office the phone was ringing. Torbert wasn't back yet. He finally called at nine-thirty and Bell sent Wendell to get him. Then he sat with his feet on the desk staring at his boots. He sat that way for some time. Then he picked up the mobile and called Wendell. Where are you at? Just past Sanderson Canyon. Turn around and come back. All right. What about Torbert? Call him and tell him to just set tight. Ill come get him this afternoon. Yessir. Go to the house and get the keys to the truck from Loretta and hook up the horsetrailer. Saddle my horse and Lorettas and load and Ill see you out there in about an hour.

Yessir. He hung up the speaker and got up and went down to check on the jail. They drove through the gate and closed it again and drove down along the fence about a hundred feet and parked. Wendell unlatched the trailer doors and led the horses out. Bell took the reins of his wifes horse. You ride Winston, he said. You sure? Oh Im more than sure. Anything happens to Lorettas horse I can tell you right now you damn sure dont want to be the party that was aboard him. He handed Wendell one of the lever action rifles hed brought and swung up into the saddle and pulled his hat down. You ready? They rode side by side. Weve driven all through their tracks but you can still see what it was, Bell said. Big offroad tires. When they got to the car it was just a blackened hulk. You were right about the plates, Wendell said. I lied about the tires though. Hows that. I said theyd still be burnin. The car sat in what looked like four puddles of tar, the wheels wrapped in blackened skeins of wire. They rode on. Bell pointed at the ground from time to time. You can tell the day tracks from the night ones, he said. were drivin out here with no lights. See there how crooked the track is? Like you can just see far enough ahead to duck the brush in front of you. Or you might leave some paint on a rock like that right yonder. In a sandwash he got down and walked up and back and then looked away toward the south. Its the same tire tread comin back as was goin down. Made about the same time. You can see the stripes real clear. Which way theyre a goin. They two or more trips each way, Id say. Wendell sat his horse, his hands crossed on the big roping pommel. He leaned and spat. He looked off to the south with the sheriff. What do you reckon it is were fixin to find down here? I dont know, Bell said. He put his foot in the stirrup and stood easily up into the saddle and put the little horse forward. I dont know, he said again. But I cant say as Im much lookin forward to it. When they reached Mosss truck the sheriff sat and studied it and then rode slowly around it. Both doors were open. Somebody pried the inspection plate off the door, he said. The numbers are on the frame. Yeah. I dont think thats why they took it. I know that truck. I do too. Wendell leaned and patted the horse on the neck. The boys name is Moss. Yep. Bell rode back around the rear of the truck and turned the horse to the south and looked at Wendell. You know where he lives at? No sir. He married, aint he. I believe he is. The sheriff sat looking at the truck. I was just thinkin itd be a curious thing if he was missin two or three days and nobody said nothin about it. Pretty curious. Bell looked down toward the caldera. I think we got some real mischief here. I hear you, Sheriff. You think this boys a doperunner? I dont know. I wouldnt of thought it. I wouldn't either. Lets go down here and look at the rest of this mess. They rode down into the caldera carrying the Winchesters upright before them in the saddlebow. I hope this boy aint dead down here, Bell said. He seemed a decent enough boy the time or two I seen him. Pretty wife too. They rode past the bodies on the ground and stopped and got down and dropped the reins. The horses stepped nervously. Lets take the horses out yonder a ways, Bell said. They dont need to see this. Yessir. When he came back Bell handed him two billfolds hed taken from the bodies. He looked toward the trucks. These two aint been dead all that long, he said. Where are they from? Dallas. He handed Wendell a pistol hed picked up and then he squatted and leaned on the rifle he was carrying. These two are been executed, he said. One of their own, Id say. Old boy never even got the safety off that pistol. of em shot between the eyes. The other didn't have a gun? Killer could of took it. Or he might not of had one. Bad way to go to a gunfight. Bad way. They walked among the trucks. These sumbitches are bloody as hogs, Wendell said. Bell glanced at him. Yeah, Wendell said. I guess you ought to be careful about cussin the dead. I would say at the least there probably aint no luck in it. Its just a bunch of Mexican drugrunners. They were. They aint now. I aint sure what you sayin. Im just sayin that whatever they were the only thing they are now is dead. Ill have to sleep on that. The sheriff tilted forward the Bronco seat and looked in the rear. He wet his finger and pressed it to the carpet and held his finger to the light. Thats been some of that old mexican brown dope in the back of this rig. Long gone now though, aint it. Long gone. Wendell squatted and studied the ground under the door. It looks like theres some more here on the ground. Could be that somebody cut into one of the packages. See what was inside. Could of been checkin the quality. Gettin ready to trade. They didnt trade. They shot each other. Bell nodded. There might not be even been no money. That's possible. But you don't believe it. Bell thought about it. No, he said. Probably I dont. There was a second mix-up out here. Yes, Bell said. At least that. He rose and pushed the seat back. This good citizens been shot between the eyes too. Yep. They walked around the truck. Bell pointed. Thats been a machinegun, them straight runs yonder. Id say it has. So where do you reckon the driver got to? Its probably one of them layin in the grass yonder. Bell had taken out his kerchief and he held it across his nose and reached in and picked up a number of brass shell-casings out of the floor and looked at the numbers stamped in the base. What calibers you got there, Sheriff? Nine millimeter. A couple of .45 ACPs. He dropped the shells back into the floor and stepped back and picked up his rifle from where hed leaned it against the vehicle. Somebodys unloaded on this thing with a shotgun by the look of it. You think them holes are big enough? I dont think theyre double ought. More likely number four buck. More buck for your bang. You could put it that way. You want to clean out a alley thats a pretty good way to go. Wendell looked over the caldera. Well, he said. Somebody's walked away from here. Id say they have. How come do you reckon the coyotes aint been at them? Bell shook his head. I dont know, he said. Supposedly they wont eat a Mexican. Them over yonder aint Mexican. Well, thats true. It must of sounded like Vietnam out here. Vietnam, the sheriff said. They walked out between the trucks. Bell picked up a few more casings and looked at them and dropped them again. He picked up a blue plastic speedloader. He stood and looked over the scene. Ill tell you what, he said. Tell me. It dont much stand to reason that the last man never even got hit. I would agree with that. Why dont we get the horses and just ride up here a ways and look around. Maybe cut for sign a little. We can do that. Can you tell me what they wanted with a dog out here? I got no idea. When they found the dead man in the rocks a mile to the northeast Bell just sat his wifes horse. He sat there for a long time. What are you thinkin, Sheriff? The sheriff shook his head. He got down and walked over to where the dead man lay slumped. He walked over the ground, the rifle yoked across his shoulders. He squatted and studied the grass. We got another execution here Sheriff? No, I believe this ones died of natural causes. Natural causes? Natural to the line of work he's in. He aint got a gun. No. Wendell leaned and spat. Somebody's been here before us. Id say so. You think he was packin the money? Id say theres a good chance of it. So we still aint found the last man, have we? Bell didnt answer. He rose and stood looking out over the country. Its a mess, aint it Sheriff? If it aint it'll do till a mess gets here. They rode back across the upper end of the caldera. They sat the horses and looked down at Mosss truck. So where do you think this good old boy is at? Wendell said. I do not know. I would take it his whereabouts is pretty high on your worklist. The sheriff nodded. Pretty high, he said. They drove back to town and the sheriff sent Wendell on to the house with the truck and the horses. You be sure and rap on the kitchen door and thank Loretta. I will. I got to give her the keys anyways. The county dont pay her to use her horse. I hear you. He called Torbert on the mobile phone. Im comin to get you, he said. Just set tight. When he pulled up in front of Lamars office the police tape was still strung across the courthouse lawn. Torbert was sitting on the steps. He got up and walked out to the car. You all right? Bell said. Yessir. Where's Sheriff Lamar? He's out on a call. They drove out toward the highway. Bell told the deputy about the caldera. Torbert listened in silence. He rode looking out the window. After a while he said: I got the report from Austin. What do they say. Not much of anything. What was he shot with? They don't know. They don't know? No sir. How can they not know? There wasn't no exit wound. Yessir. They freely admitted that. Freely admitted? Yessir. Well what the hell did they say, Torbert? They said that he had what looked to be a large caliber bullet wound in the forehead and that said wound had penetrated to a distance of approximately two and a half inches through the skull and into the frontal lobe of the brain but that there was not no bullet to be found. Said wound. Yessir. Bell pulled out onto the interstate. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He looked at his deputy. What you sayin dont make no sense, Torbert. I told em that. To which they responded? They didnt respond nothin. Theyre sendin the report FedEx. X-rays and everthing. They said youd have it in your office by in the mornin. They rode along in silence. After a while Torbert said: This whole thing is just hell in spectacles, aint it Sheriff. Yes it is. How many bodies is it altogether? Good question. I aint sure I even counted. Eight. Nine with Deputy Haskins. Torbert studied the country out there. The shadows long on the road. Who the hell are these people? I dont know. I used to say they were the same ones weve always had to deal with. Same ones my grandaddy had to deal with. Back then they was rustlin cattle. Now theyre runnin dope. . Im like you. I aint sure weve seen these people before. Their kind. I dont know what to do about em even. If you killed em all theyd have to build an annex on to hell. Chigurh pulled in to the Desert Aire shortly before noon and parked just below Mosss trailer and shut off the engine. He got out and walked across the raw dirt yard and climbed the steps and tapped at the aluminum door. He waited. Then he tapped again . He turned and stood with his back to the trailer and studied the little park. Nothing moved. Not a dog. He turned and put his wrist to the doorlock and shot out the lock cylinder with the cobalt steel plunger of the cattlegun and opened the door and went in and shut the door behind him. He stood, the deputy's revolver in his hand. He looked in the kitchen. He walked back into the bedroom. He walked through the bedroom and pushed open the bathroom door and went into the second bedroom. Clothes on the floor. He opened the top dresser drawer and closed it again. He put the gun back in his belt and pulled his shirt over it and walked back out to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of milk and opened it and smelled it and drank. He stood there holding the carton in one hand and looking out the window. He drank again and then he put the carton back in the refrigerator and shut the door. He went into the livingroom and sat on the sofa. There was a perfectly good twenty-one inch television on the table. He looked at himself in the dead gray screen. He rose and got the mail off the floor and sat back down and went through it. He folded three of the envelopes and put them in his shirtpocket and then rose and went out. He drove down and parked in front of the office and went in. Yessir, the woman said. Im looking for Llewelyn Moss. She studied him. Did you go up to his trailer? Yes I did. Well Id say hes at work. Did you want to leave a message? Where does he work? Sir I aint at liberty to give out no information about our residents. Chigurh looked around at the little plywood office. He looked at the woman. Where does he work. Sir? I said where does he work. Did you not hear me? We cant give out no information. A toilet flushed somewhere. A doorlatch clicked. Chigurh looked at the woman again. Then he went out and got in the Ramcharger and left. He pulled in at the cafe and took the envelopes out of his shirtpocket and unfolded them and opened them and read the letters inside. He opened the phone bill and looked at the charges. There were calls to Del Rio and to Odessa. He went in and got some change and went to the payphone and dialed the Del Rio number but there was no answer. He called the Odessa number and a woman answered and he asked for Llewelyn. The woman said he wasn't there. I tried to reach him in Sanderson but I dont believe hes there anymore. There was a silence. Then the woman said: I dont know where hes at. Who is this? Chigurh hung up the phone and went over to the counter and sat down and ordered a cup of coffee. Has Llewelyn been in? he said. When he pulled up in front of the garage there were two men sitting with their backs to the wall of the building eating their lunches. He went in. There was a man at the desk drinking coffee and listening to the radio. Yessir, he said . I was looking for Llewelyn. He aint here. What time do you expect him? I dont know. He aint called in or nothin so your guess is as good as mine. He leaned his head slightly. As if hed get another look at Chigurh. Is there somethin I can help you with? I dont think so. Outside he stood on the broken oilstained pavement. He looked at the two men sitting at the end of the building. Do you know where Llewelyn is? They shook their heads. Chigurh got into the Ramcharger and pulled out and went back toward town. The bus pulled into Del Rio in the early afternoon and Moss got his bags and climbed down. He walked down to the cab-stand and opened the rear door of the cab parked there and got in. Take me to a motel, he said. The driver looked at him in the mirror. You got one in mind? No. Just somewhere cheap. They drove out to a place called the Trail Motel and Moss got out with his bag and the document case and paid the driver and went into the office. A woman was sitting watching television. She got up and went around behind the desk. Do you have a room? I got more than one. How many nights? I dont know. We got a weekly rate is the reason I ask. Thirty-five dollars plus a dollar seventy-five tax. Thirty-six seventy-five. Thirty-six seventy-five. Yessir. For the week. Yessir. For the week. Is that your best rate? Yessir. Theres not no discounts on the weekly rate. Well lets just take it one day at a time. Yessir. He got the key and walked down to the room and went in and shut the door and set the bags on the bed. He closed the curtains and stood looking out through them at the squalid little court. Dead quiet. door and sat on the bed. He unzipped the duffel bag and took out the machinepistol and laid it on the bedspread and lay down beside it. When he woke it was late afternoon. He lay there looking at the stained asbestos ceiling. He sat up and pulled off his boots and socks and examined the bandages on his heels. He went into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror and he took off his shirt and examined the back of his arm. It was discolored from shoulder to elbow. He walked back into the room and sat on the bed again. the gun lying there. After a while he climbed up onto the cheap wooden desk and with the blade of his pocketknife set to unscrewing the airduct grille, putting the screws in his mouth one by one. Then he pulled the grille loose and laid it on the desk and stood on his toes and looked into the duct. He cut a length from the Venetian blind cord at the window and tied the end of the cord to the case. Then he unlatched the case and counted out a thousand dollars and folded the money and put it in his pocket and shut the case and fastened it and fastened the straps. He got the clothes pole out of the closet, sliding the wire hangers off onto the floor, and stood on the dresser again and pushed the case down the duct as far as he could reach. It was a tight fit. He took the pole and pushed it again until he could just reach the end of the rope. He put the grille back with its rack of dust and fastened the screws and climbed down and went into the bathroom and took a shower. When he came out he lay on the bed in his shorts and pulled the chenille spread over himself and over the submachine gun at his side. He pushed the safety off. Then he went to sleep. When he woke it was dark. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat listening. He rose and walked to the window and pulled the curtain back slightly and looked out. Deep shadows. Silence. Nothing. He got dressed and put the gun under the mattress with the safety still off and smoothed down the dustskirt and sat on the bed and picked up the phone and called a cab. He had to pay the driver an extra ten dollars to take him across the bridge to Ciudad Acuña. He walked the streets, looking into the shopwindows. The evening was soft and warm and in the little alameda grackles were settling in the trees and calling to one another. He went into a boot shop and looked at the exotics — crocodile and ostrich and elephant — but the quality of the boots was nothing like the Larry Mahans that he wore. He went into a farmacia and bought a tin of bandages and sat in the park and patched his raw feet. His socks were already bloody. At the corner a cabdriver asked him if he wanted to go see the girls and Moss held up his hand for him to see the ring he wore and kept on walking. He ate in a restaurant with white tablecloths and waiters in white jackets. He ordered a glass of red wine and a porterhouse steak. It was early and the restaurant was empty save for him. He sipped the wine and when the steak came he cut into it and chewed slowly and thought about his life. He got back to the motel a little after ten and sat in the cab with the motor running while he counted out money for the fare. He handed the bills across the seat and he started to get out but he didnt. He sat there with his hand on the doorhandle. Drive me around to the side, he said. The driver put the shifter in gear. What room? he said. Just drive me around. I want to see if somebodys here. They drove slowly past his room. There was a gap in the curtains he was pretty sure he hadnt left there. Hard to tell. Not that hard. The cab tolled slowly past. he said. The driver looked at him in the mirror. Keep going, said Moss. Don't stop. I dont want to get in some kind of a jackpot here, buddy. Just keep going. Why dont I let you out here and we wont argue about it. I want you to take me to another motel. Lets just call it square. Moss leaned forward and held a hundred dollar bill across the seat. Youre already in a jackpot, he said. Im tryin to get you out of it. Now take me to a motel. The driver took the bill and tucked it into his shirtpocket and turned out of the lot and into the street. He spent the night at the Ramada Inn out on the highway and in the morning he went down and ate breakfast in the dining room and read the paper. Then he just sat there. They wouldn't be in the room when the maids came to clean it. Checkout time is eleven oclock. They could have found the money and left. Except of course that there were probably at least two parties looking for him and whichever one this was it wasn't the other and the other wasn't going away either. By the time he got up he knew that he was probably going to have to kill somebody. He just didnt know who it was. He took a cab and went into town and went into a sporting goods store and bought a twelve gauge Winchester pump gun and a box of double ought buckshot shells. The box of shells contained almost exactly the firepower of a claymore mine. He had them wrap the gun and he left with it under his arm and walked up Pecan Street to a hardware store. There he bought a hacksaw and a flat millfile and some miscellaneous items. A pair of pliers and a pair of sidecutters. A screwdriver. Flashlight. A roll of duct tape. He stood on the sidewalk with his purchases. Then he turned and walked back down the street. In the sporting goods store again he asked the same clerk if he had any aluminum tentpoles. He tried to explain that he didnt care what kind of tent it was, he just needed the poles. The clerk studied him. Whatever kind of tent it is, he said, wed still have to special order poles for it. You need to get the manufacturer and the model number. You sell tents, right? We got three different models. Which one has got the most poles in it? Well, I guess that would be our ten foot walltent. You can stand up in it. Well, some people could stand up in it. Its got a six foot clearance at the ridge. Let me have one. Yessir. He brought the tent from the stockroom and laid it on the counter. It came in an orange nylon bag. Moss laid the shotgun and the bag of hardware on the counter and untied the strings and pulled the tent from the bag together with the poles and cords. Its all there, the clerk said. What do I owe you. Its one seventy-nine plus tax. He laid two of the hundred dollar bills on the counter. The tentpoles were in a separate bag and he pulled this out and put it with his other things. The clerk gave him his change and the receipt and Moss gathered up the shotgun and his hardware purchases together with the tentpoles and thanked him and turned and left. What about the tent? the clerk called. In the room he unwrapped the shotgun and wedged it in an open drawer and held it and sawed the barrel off just in front of the magazine. He squared up the cut with the file and smoothed it and wiped out the muzzle of the barrel with a damp facecloth and set it aside. Then he saw off the stock in a line that left it with a pistol grip and sat on the bed and dressed the grip smooth with the file. When he had it the way he wanted it he slid the forearm back and slid it forward again and let the hammer down with his thumb and turned it sideways and looked at it. It looked pretty good. He turned it over and opened the box of shells and fed the heavy waxed loads into the magazine one by one . He jacked the slide back and chambered a shell and lowered the hammer and then put one more round in the magazine and laid the gun across his lap. It was less than two feet long. He called the Trail Motel and told the woman to hold his room for him. Then he shoved the gun and the shells and the tools under the mattress and went out again. He went to Wal-Mart and bought some clothes and a small nylon zipper bag to put them in. A pair of jeans and a couple of shirts and some socks. In the afternoon he went for a long walk out along the lake, taking the cut-off gunbarrel and the stock with him in the bag. He slung the barrel out into the water as far as he could throw it and he buried the stock under a ledge of shale. There were deer moving away through the desert scrub. heard them snort and he could see them where they came out on a ridge a hundred yards away to stand looking back at him. He sat on a gravel beach with the empty bag folded in his lap and watched the sun set. Watched the land turn blue and cold. An osprey went down the lake. Then there was just the darkness.