BrokenBack Mountain
During the day Ennis looked across a great gulf and sometimes saw
Jack, a small dot moving across a high meadow as an insect moves across
a tablecloth; Jack, in his dark camp, saw Ennis as night fire, a red
spark on the huge black mass of mountain.
Jack came lagging in late one afternoon, drank his two bottles of
beer cooled in a wet sack on the shady side of the tent, ate two bowls
of stew, four of Ennis's stone biscuits, a can of peaches, rolled a
smoke, watched the sun drop.
"I'm commutin four hours a day," he said morosely. "Come in for breakfast,
go back to the sheep, evenin get em bedded down, come in for supper,
go back to the sheep, spend half the night jumpin up and checkin for
coyotes. By rights I should be spendin the night here. Aguirre got no
right a make me do this."
"You want a switch?" said Ennis. "I wouldn't mind herdin. I wouldn't
mind sleepin out there."
"That ain't the point. Point is, we both should be in this camp.
And that goddamn pup tent smells like cat piss or worse."
"Wouldn't mind bein out there."
"Tell you what, you got a get up a dozen times in the night out there
over them coyotes. Happy to switch but give you warnin I can't cook
worth a sh*t. Pretty good with a can opener."
"Can't be no worse than me, then. Sure, I wouldn't mind a do it."
They fended off the night for an hour with the yellow kerosene lamp
and around ten Ennis rode Cigar Butt, a good night horse, through the
glimmering frost back to the sheep, carrying leftover biscuits, a jar
of jam and a jar of coffee with him for the next day saying he'd save
a trip, stay out until supper.
"Shot a coyote just first light," he told Jack the next evening,
sloshing his face with hot water, lathering up soap and hoping his razor
had some cut left in it, while Jack peeled potatoes. "Big son of a *****.
Balls on him size a apples. I bet he'd took a few lambs. Looked like
he could a eat a camel. You want some a this hot water? There's plenty."
"It's all yours."
"Well, I'm goin a warsh everthing I can reach," he said, pulling
off his boots and jeans (no drawers, no socks, Jack noticed), slopping
the green washcloth around until the fire spat.
01 02
03 04 05
06 07 08
09 10 11
12 13 14
15 16 17
18 嶄猟井