No Country for Old Men- 第21部分

he　stood　and　put　a　card　on　the　table　next　to　the　flowers。　he　looked　at　moss。　you　think　　you　wont　call　me　but　you　will。　just　dont　wait　too　long。　that　money　belongs　to　my　client。

chigurh　is　an　outlaw。　times　not　on　your　side。　we　can　even　let　you　keep　some　of　it。　but　　if　i　have　to　recover　the　funds　from　chigurh　then　it　will　be　too　late　for　you。　not　to　　mention　your　wife。

moss　didnt　answer。

all　right。　you　might　want　to　call　her。　when　i　talked　to　her　she　sounded　pretty　worried。

when　he　was　gone　moss　turned　up　the　photographs　lying　on　the　bed。　like　a　player　　checking　his　hole　cards。　he　looked　at　the　pitcher　of　water　but　then　the　nurse　came　in。

x



No　Country　for　Old　MenVI

（／小｜说｜网）
young　people　anymore　they　seem　to　have　a　hard　time　growin　up。　i　dont　know　　why。　maybe　its　just　that　you　dont　grow　up　any　faster　than　what　you　have　to。　i　had　a　　cousin　was　a　deputized　peace　officer　when　he　was　eighteen。　he　was　married　and　had　a　　kid　at　the　time。　i　had　a　friend　that　i　grew　up　with　was　a　ordained　baptist　preacher　at　the　　same　age。　pastor　of　a　little　old　country　church。　he　left　there　to　go　to　lubbock　after　　about　three　years　and　when　he　told　em　he　was　leavin　they　just　set　there　in　that　church　　and　blubbered。　men　and　women　alike。　hed　married　em　and　baptized　em　and　buried　em。

he　was　twenty…one　years　old；　maybe　twenty…two。　when　he　preached　theyd　be　standin　　out　in　the　yard　listenin。　it　surprised　me。　he　was　always　quiet　in　school。　i　was　twenty…　one　when　i　went　in　the　army　and　i　was　one　of　the　oldest　in　our　class　at　boot　camp。　six　　months　later　i　was　in　france　shootin　people　with　a　rifle。　i　didnt　even　think　it　was　all　　that　peculiar　at　the　time。　four　years　later　i　was　sheriff　of　this　county。　i　never　doubted　　but　what　i　was　supposed　to　be　neither。　people　anymore　you　talk　about　right　and　wrong　　theyre　liable　to　smile　at　you。　but　i　never　had　a　lot　of　doubts　about　things　like　that。　in　　my　thoughts　about　things　like　that。　i　hope　i　never　do。

loretta　told　me　that　she　had　heard　on　the　radio　about　some　percentage　of　the　children　　in　this　country　bein　raised　by　their　grandparents。　i　forget　what　it　was。　pretty　high；　i　　thought。　parents　wouldnt　raise　em。　we　talked　about　that。　what　we　thought　was　that　　when　the　next　generation　e　along　and　they　dont　want　to　raise　their　children　neither　　then　who　is　goin　to　do　it？　their　own　parents　will　be　the　only　grandparents　around　and　　they　wouldnt　even　raise　them。　we　didnt　have　a　answer　about　that。　on　my　better　days　i　　think　that　there　is　somethin　i　dont　know　or　there　is　somethin　that　im　leavin　out。　but　　them　times　are　seldom。　i　wake　up　sometimes　way　in　the　night　and　i　know　as　certain　as　　death　that　there　aint　nothin　short　of　the　second　in　of　christ　that　can　slow　this　train。

i　dont　know　what　is　the　use　of　me　layin　awake　over　it。　but　i　do。

i　dont　believe　you　could　do　this　job　without　a　wife。　a　pretty　unusual　wife　at　that。　cook　　and　jailer　and　i　dont　know　what　all。　them　boys　dont　know　how　good　theyve　got　it。　well；　　maybe　they　do。　i　never　worried　about　her　bein　safe。　they　get　fresh　garden　stuff　a　good　　part　of　the　year。　good　cornbread。　soupbeans。　shes　been　known　to　fix　em　hamburgers　　and　french　fries。　weve　had　em　to　e　back　even　years　later　and　theyd　be　married　and　　doin　good。　bring　their　wives。　bring　their　kids　even。　they　didnt　e　back　to　see　me。　ive　　seen　em　to　introduce　their　wives　or　their　sweethearts　and　then　just　go　to　bawlin。　grown　　men。　that　had　done　some　pretty　bad　things。　she　knew　what　she　was　doin。　she　always　　did。　so　we　go　over　budget　on　the　jail　ever　month　but　what　are　you　goin　to　do　about　that？

you　aint　goin　to　do　nothin　about　it。　thats　what　youre　goin　to　do。

chigurh　pulled　off　of　the　highway　at　the　junction　of　131　and　opened　the　　telephone　directory　in　his　lap　and　folded　over　the　bloodstained　pages　till　he　got　to　　veterinarian。　there　was　a　clinic　outside　bracketville　about　thirty　minutes　away。　he　　looked　at　the　towel　around　his　leg。　it　was　soaked　through　with　blood　and　blood　had　　soaked　into　the　seat。　he　threw　the　directory　in　the　floor　and　sat　with　his　hands　at　the　top　　of　the　steering　wheel。　he　sat　there　for　about　three　minutes。　then　he　put　the　vehicle　in　　gear　and　pulled　out　onto　the　highway　again。

he　drove　to　the　crossroads　at　la　pryor　and　took　the　road　north　to　uvalde。　his　leg　was　　throbbing　like　a　pump。　on　the　highway　outside　of　uvalde　he　pulled　up　in　front　of　the　　cooperative　and　undid　the　sashcord　from　around　his　leg　and　pulled　away　the　towel。

then　he　got　out　and　hobbled　in。

he　bought　a　sack　full　of　veterinary　supplies。　cotton　and　tape　and　gauze。　a　bulb　syringe　　and　a　bottle　of　hydrogen　peroxide。　a　pair　of　forceps。　scissors。　some　packets　of　four　　inch　swabs　and　a　quart　bottle　of　betadine。　he　paid　and　went　out　and　got　in　the　　ramcharger　and　started　the　engine　and　then　sat　watching　the　building　in　the　rearview　　mirror。　as　if　he　might　be　thinking　of　something　else　he　needed；　but　that　wasnt　it。　he　put　　his　fingers　inside　the　cuff　of　his　shirt　and　carefully　blotted　the　sweat　from　his　eyes。　then　　he　put　the　vehicle　in　gear　and　backed　out　of　the　parking　space　and　pulled　out　onto　the　　highway　headed　toward　town。

he　drove　down　main　street　and　turned　north　on　getty　and　east　again　on　nopal　where　　he　parked　and　shut　off　the　engine。　his　leg　was　still　bleeding。　he　got　the　scissors　from　　the　bag　and　the　tape　and　he　cut　a　three　inch　round　disc　out　of　the　cardboard　box　that　　held　the　cotton。　he　put　that　together　with　the　tape　into　his　shirtpocket。　he　took　a　　coathanger　from　the　floor　behind　the　seat　and　twisted　the　ends　off　and　straightened　it　　out。　then　he　leaned　and　opened　his　bag　and　took　out　a　shirt　and　cut　off　one　sleeve　with　　the　scissors　and　folded　it　and　put　it　in　his　pocket　and　put　the　scissors　back　in　the　paper　　bag　from　the　cooperative　and　opened　the　door　and　eased　himself　down；　lifting　his　　injured　leg　out　with　both　hands　under　his　knee。　he　stood　there；　holding　on　to　the　door。

then　he　bent　over　with　his　head　to　his　chest　and　stood　that　way　for　the　better　part　of　a　　minute。　then　he　raised　up　and　shut　the　door　and　started　down　the　street。

outside　the　drugstore　on　main　he　stopped　and　turned　and　leaned　against　a　car　parked　　there。　he　checked　the　street。　no　one　ing。　he　unscrewed　the　gascap　at　his　elbow　and　　hooked　the　shirtsleeve　over　the　coathanger　and　ran　it　down　into　the　tank　and　drew　it　out　　again。　he　taped　the　cardboard　over　the　open　gastank　and　balled　the　sleeve　wet　with　　gasoline　over　the　top　of　it　and　taped　it　down　and　lit　it　and　turned　and　limped　into　the　　drugstore。　he　was　little　more　than　halfway　down　the　aisle　toward　the　pharmacy　when　　the　car　outside　exploded　into　flame　taking　out　most　of　the　glass　in　front　of　the　store。

he　let　himself　in　through　the　little　gate　and　went　down　the　pharmacists　aisles。　he　found　　a　packet　of　syringes　and　a　bottle　of　hydrocodone　tablets　and　he　came　back　up　the　aisle　　looking　for　penicillin。　he　couldnt　find　it　but　he　found　tetracycline　and　sulfa。　he　stuffed　　these　things　in　his　pocket　and　came　out　from　behind　the　counter　in　the　orange　glow　of　　the　fire　and　went　down　the　aisle　and　picked　up　a　pair　of　aluminum　crutches　and　pushed　　open　the　rear　door　and　went　hobbling　out　across　the　gravel　parking　lot　behind　the　store。

the　alarm　at　the　rear　door　went　off　but　no　one　paid　any　attention　and　chigurh　never　had　　even　glanced　toward　the　front　of　the　store　which　was　now　in　flames。

he　pulled　into　a　motel　outside　of　hondo　and　got　a　room　at　the　end　of　the　building　and　　walked　in　and　set　his　bag　on　the　bed。　he　shoved　the　pistol　under　the　pillow　and　went　in　　the　bathroom　with　the　bag　from　the　cooperative　and　dumped　the　contents　out　into　the　　sink。　he　emptied　his　pockets　and　laid　out　everything　on　the　counter…keys；　billfold；　the　　vials　of　antibiotic　and　the　syringes。　he　sat　on　the　edge　of　the　tub　and　pulled　off　his　boots　　and　reached　down　and　put　the　plug　in　the　tub　and　turned　on　the　tap。　then　he　undressed　　and　eased　himself　into　the　tub　while　it　filled。

his　leg　was　black　and　blue　and　swollen　badly。　it　looked　like　a　snakebite。　he　laved　water　　over　the　wounds　with　a　washcloth。　he　turned　his　leg　in　the　water　and　studied　the　exit　　wound。　small　pieces　of　cloth　stuck　to　the　tissue。　the　hole　was　big　enough　to　put　your　　thumb　in。

when　he　climbed　out　of　the　tub　the　water　was　a　pale　pink　and　the　holes　in　his　leg　were　　still　leaking　a　pale　blood　dilute　with　serum。　he　dropped　his　boots　in　the　water　and　　patted　himself　dry　with　the　towel　and　sat　on　the　toilet　and　took　the　bottle　of　betadine　　and　the　packet　of　swabs　from　the　sink。　he　tore　open　the　packet　with　his　teeth　and　　unscrewed　the　bottle　and　tipped　it　slowly　over　the　wounds。　then　he　set　the　bottle　down　　and　bent　to　work；　picking　out　the　bits　of　cloth；　using　the　swabs　and　the　forceps。　he　sat　　with　the　water　running　in　the　sink　and　rested。　he　held　the　tip　of　the　forceps　under　the　　faucet　and　shook　away　the　water　and　bent　to　his　work　again。

when　he　was　done　he　disinfected　the　wound　a　final　time　and　tore　open　packets　of　four　　by　fours　and　laid　them　over　the　holes　in　his　leg　and　bound　them　with　gauze　off　of　a　roll　　packaged　for　sheep　and　goats。　then　he　rose　and　filled　the　plastic　tumbler　on　the　sink　　counter　with　water　and　drank　it。　he　filled　it　and　drank　twice　more。　then　he　went