"Ah, so," he mumbled4, slicing off a piece, "ah sí," and sliced off another, and then jumped erect5 in startled surprise, dropping the block of wax. "Ah, Crawford!"
"How—how did you get out?" quavered Jacinto, grunting8 painfully with the effort it cost him to stoop over and retrieve10 the wax.
"Nobody stopped me," said Crawford. "They gave me that upstairs bedroom, but I couldn't sleep."
"You better not come in here, Crawford," said the gross cook. "Maybe they're not watching you like they did, but you better get out of here. Why do you think Huerta kept you up at the house this morning? Didn't you see how Quartel looked at you? You're just lucky he didn't get you down here."
There was a dish of cracklings on the table, and Crawford took one, pulling a three-legged stool out to sit on it. "Quartel and the others are out chousing cattle. Making candles?"
"Sí," mumbled Jacinto, lowering himself back on the bench. "Nobody can make them like me. That was bayberry you smelled all right. I didn't have enough sheep tallow. First I make it into blocks and then cut it into small scraps11 so it melts quick without burning. I put the wax in hot water and scoop12 the grease off as it comes to the top. Then I strain it through a horsehair cloth to remove whatever dirt I missed in skimming. I am now heating the wax to pour in the molds. Did you ever see such fine molds? My father owned that brass13 one in El Paso. It holds two dozen candles at one pouring. If you came here to find out what's going on, I can't tell you."
The abrupt14 transition brought Crawford's head up in surprise. Jacinto set the mold end up in a dishpan, chuckling15.
"I am not as stupid as I am corpulent, Crawford. You didn't come here just to eat my cracklings." His great bloodshot eyes slid upward in their pouches16 till they met Crawford's. "But I can't tell you anything, Crawford. I know something is going on. Huerta and that woman. Something not quite right. Tarant too, somehow. Maybe you can tell me."
"Hyacinth, what did you think of that story about Santa Anna's chests?"
"I—Santa Maria, that wax is hot." Jacinto sat shaking his finger a moment. Then he put it into his mouth. "If Santa Anna lost some chests up here, I guess he lost them, that's all. Mm, you ought to taste that bayberry. I think I'll season my chiles rollenos with it some time."
"You heard the one about the map?" said Crawford.
"The derrotero? Sí, I guess there was supposed to be a map. Isn't there always, with something like that?"
"Ever stop to think of Santa Anna's full name?"
"Ciertamente. Everybody knows it. Antonio Lopez de San—" Jacinto stopped, staring at Crawford. Wax dripped from the tin ladle onto the floor. Crawford popped a last crackling into his mouth.
"Would that give her a connection?" he said.
"Lopez is a common name," said Jacinto, almost defensively.
"A woman like that don't trail through this kind of country just for the scenery," said Crawford. He closed his eyes, rolling the name meditatively17 off his tongue. "Merida Lopez."
It must have been about then the first sound floated in from outside, the creak of saddle leather, a man's hoarse18 cough. Jacinto jumped across the room, jerking Crawford up out of the chair. "They're back, Crawford, you got to go, you got to get out of here, if Quartel ever gets you alone after Whitehead, he'll—"
He stopped shoving Crawford toward the doorway19, and his voice faded into a series of small, choked sounds. Aforismo stood there, sweat streaking20 the dust in his smooth brown face, holding a belduque in his hands.
"El amante fiel," he said, running his finger down the keen edge, "the Loyal Lover. Did you ever see my knife, Crawford? Truly a remarkable21 weapon. Handed down in my family for generations. The hilt was once studded with precious stones, but they have long since been picked out by various members of my illustrious house who were in temporary financial destitution22." He took a shuffling23 step toward them. "Look at the bravos on the blade. See this one. Nothing compares with my kiss. Isn't that a delectable24 motto?"
Jacinto shrank back, staring in fascinated horror at the words cut into that side of the gleaming blade. Through the dog-run, Crawford could hear the thump25 of a chair in the bunkhouse, the clatter26 of spoons on the table.
"Please, Aforismo, please," quavered Jacinto. "Let him go. Madre de Dios! let him go out the door before they find him in here. You know what will happen. Quartel would—"
"And this one," Aforismo said, turning the blade over and pointing to another motto cut into that side. "This is my favorite bravo I think. Tripe27 is sweet but bowels28 are better. Don't you like that one, Jacinto?" He took another shuffling step toward them with the point almost touching29 Crawford's belly30. "Don't you like that bravo, Crawford? Tell me you like it. It is my favorite, I think."
"Please, please." Jacinto was cringing31 behind Crawford, wringing32 his hands, sweat dribbling33 down his coarse face. "En el nombre de Dios, Aforismo, let him go, he never did anything to you, he never harmed one little hair of your head, I hate violence so, oh, I do hate violence so, my father he always tell me there are two sins in the world, work and fighting, and—oh, por Dios, Aforismo, Santa Maria, nombre de mi madre, let him go, let him go—"
"They say down in Durango a coyote always howls loudest in the trap," said Aforismo, nudging Crawford gently back with that needle point. "I think maybe we better all go in the bunkhouse, eh? The hands are getting hungry. Tripe is sweet but bowels are better, eh?" Crawford did not step back quickly enough, and that needle point went through his shirt with a soft ripping sound. The stinging bite of steel in the hard muscle of his belly caused his move back to be involuntary. His breath left him in a hoarse gust34 and he bent forward with the impulse driving through him. That was as far as it went. Aforismo's boots made that bland35 shuffle36 on the hard-packed earth, moving forward. His face twisted with frustrated37 anger, Crawford shifted back into the dog-run, shoving the cringing cook behind him.
"Dios, Aforismo, por Dios, no violence, please, I could not stand the sight of blood, it would make me regurgitate, please—"
Jacinto knocked over a chair backing from the dog-run into the bunkhouse. It made a loud clatter. Then Crawford was in the bunkhouse, still bent forward that way, his breath coming out harsh and swift, and he could see them. Bueno Bailey was seated at the table.
"I was just showing Crawford the bravos on my belduque," said Aforismo. "In Durango they say it is an ignorant man who cannot tell his sons at least one bravo."
"Bueno." Bailey trailed the word out in a pleased, nasal twang, shoving the bench back from the table. "Siddown, Crawford. We was just about to eat."
"I guess you never met Ford6 Innes, did you, Crawford," said Quartel. "This is Crawford, Ford. He is the one who brought your amigo back this morning."
The redheaded man in the doorway emitted a flat, harsh grunt9. He must have just stepped in, for he held his saddle under one arm. The short, square lines of his body held all the lethal38 threat of a snub-nosed derringer. He had a flat-topped hat set squarely on his head. The bottom of his red beard was dirty from rubbing against the grease daubs on the chest of a buckskin ducking jacket with square tails that hung outside his chivarras and which were caught up on one side by the wooden handle of his Remington.
"Ford just got back from taking Wallace Tarant into San Antonio," said Quartel. "As many times as that shyster's been back and forth39 between here and town, he still can't find his way through the brush himself."
The leather rigging clattered40 against the hard earthen floor when Innes dropped his pack. His bushy bleached41 brows formed a reddish dominance above shrewd little eyes that had not left Crawford's face since he entered. He moved over and sat down across from Bailey.
"So you brought Whitehead back." His voice held the same lack of intonation42 as his grunt.
"Ford had been Whitehead's saddle mate for a long time," said Quartel. "I guess he'd like to know how it happened to Whitehead."
"Get us some grub, Jacinto," said Aforismo. With his belduque he indicated a place beside Bailey. "An empty seat there, Crawford. Sit down."
Crawford looked at the knife. He sat down.
The table groaned43 as Aforismo lowered himself onto it and put his feet on the bench, running a finger up and down his belduque. Ford Innes began playing with his spoon on the table. Jacinto came from the dog-run with a dish of beans. He fumbled44 the plate at the last moment and almost tipped it onto the table. His fat jowls were trembling with his chin.
"Please, please, let's not have any—"
"So Whitehead broke his neck out in the thicket," said Innes.
"Have some beans, Glenn," said Bailey, ladling them onto a plate he had shoved before Crawford.
"They call them nacionales down in Durango, because so many Mexicans eat them," said Aforismo. "It is said of one who is weak that he lacks nacionales."
"How did it happen to Whitehead?" said Innes.
"We don't know," said Bailey, helping45 the man to beans. "Crawford just brought him back over his horse with his neck broke and said he found him out in the brush that way."
"How did it happen?" Innes asked Crawford.
"There was eleven shots gone from Whitehead's carbine," said Quartel.
Innes began eating in a slow, mechanical way, his jaws46 working steadily47 beneath his red beard, looking at Crawford. "Where's your iron?"
"Whitehead took away Crawford's rifle when he first came," said Aforismo.
Innes's bleached eyebrows48 raised, and he ceased chewing for a moment. Quartel was standing49 behind Crawford to one side, and Crawford caught the sly grin spreading the man's pawky lips.
"There was no other marks on Whitehead's body," Quartel said.
"Well," said Innes, still looking at Crawford that way. Finally he went back to spooning up the beans, his eyes never leaving Crawford's face. "What happened?" he said again, around a mouthful.
"Yeah." Bailey nudged Crawford on the shoulder with his spoon. "What happened?"
Crawford could hear his own breathing now. It held a harsh, driven sound. He looked from Innes to Bailey, from Bailey to Quartel, from Quartel to Aforismo. There was a patent brutal50 intent in all their faces. He was hunched51 over so far now the heat of the beans in his plate penetrated52 his shirt and warmed his chest.
"Where's the sorrel?" said Bailey.
"What sorrel?" said Innes.
"The horse he took out," said Quartel. "He never brought him back."
"Coffee?" It was Jacinto again, waddling53 in with a big pot. He set it down, looking around at the men. He wrung54 his great fat hands together, speaking in a small, strained voice. "Please, señores, please. Violence. I cannot stand it. You won't do this. Tell me you won't do this. My father, he say—"
Aforismo turned toward him, lifting the belduque. "Would you like my Loyal Lover to see inside the sack?"
"No." Jacinto backed out, lugubrious55 tears forming at the corners of his eyes. "No, lástima de Dios, tears of God, no—"
"You ain't told us what happened yet," said Innes, still eating.
"Yeah." Quartel shoved Crawford from behind. "How did you lose the sorrel? You could ride any horse I could, remember?"
Crawford's hands were clasped desperately56 between his knees. There was a taut57, set expression to his features. Sweat had begun trickling58 down his cheeks into his beard. His whole body was trembling.
"So you brought Whitehead in with a broken neck," said Innes.
"How did it get broke?"
"How did you lose the sorrel?"
"What happened?"
Crawford jerked away as Aforismo bent forward with that belduque again. It carried him against Bueno, sitting on his other side. Bueno pushed him back roughly. Quartel shoved him from behind so hard his chest struck the table. A small, strangled sound escaped him.
"Tell us what happened."
"Sí, tell us, Crawford."
"What happened, Crawford?"
"Talk, damn you." Bueno's shove was harder.
"Tell us, Crawford." The knife prick60 was deeper. He jerked away from it. Bailey caught him and shoved him back brutally62. He made a spasmodic effort to rise. Quartel put both hands on his shoulders and forced him back down. He tried to twist around. Aforismo's belduque was in his face. He jerked back the other way into Bailey. His hands knotted and writhed63 between his knees underneath64 the table. His whole body was shuddering65 now.
"Where's the sorrel?"
"How'd he break his neck?"
"Talk, damn you!"
"Tell us, Crawford."
"What happened?"
"Gentlemen!" It came from the doorway, and it stopped them abruptly66. Huerta stood there, bent forward slightly, and those bluish lids were almost closed over his eyes.
"I think we all know what happened to Whitehead," he said, "don't you?" He stood there a moment, but no one answered. He dropped his eyes to the jade67 cigarette holder68 he held in one hand, tapping it to knock the ash from the cigarette, and still looking down that way, spoke69 again. "I think it would be wise, now, Crawford, for you to come with me, up to the house, don't you?"
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收听单词发音
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1
adobe
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| n.泥砖，土坯，美国Adobe公司 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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rumbled
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| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
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mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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grunting
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| 咕哝的，呼噜的 | |
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grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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retrieve
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| vt.重新得到，收回；挽回，补救；检索 | |
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scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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scoop
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| n.铲子，舀取，独家新闻；v.汲取，舀取，抢先登出 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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pouches
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| n.（放在衣袋里或连在腰带上的）小袋( pouch的名词复数 )；（袋鼠等的）育儿袋；邮袋；（某些动物贮存食物的）颊袋 | |
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meditatively
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| adv.冥想地 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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streaking
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| n.裸奔（指在公共场所裸体飞跑）v.快速移动( streak的现在分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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destitution
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| n.穷困，缺乏，贫穷 | |
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shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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delectable
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| adj.使人愉快的；美味的 | |
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thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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tripe
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| n.废话，肚子, 内脏 | |
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bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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cringing
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| adj.谄媚，奉承 | |
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wringing
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| 淋湿的，湿透的 | |
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dribbling
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| n.（燃料或油从系统内）漏泄v.流口水( dribble的现在分词 )；（使液体）滴下或作细流；运球，带球 | |
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gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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bland
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| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
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shuffle
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| n.拖著脚走，洗纸牌；v.拖曳，慢吞吞地走 | |
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frustrated
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| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
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lethal
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| adj.致死的；毁灭性的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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clattered
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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bleached
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| 漂白的，晒白的，颜色变浅的 | |
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intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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51
hunched
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| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
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penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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53
waddling
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| v.（像鸭子一样）摇摇摆摆地走( waddle的现在分词 ) | |
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54
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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55
lugubrious
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| adj.悲哀的，忧郁的 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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taut
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| adj.拉紧的，绷紧的，紧张的 | |
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trickling
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| n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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59
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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60
prick
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| v.刺伤，刺痛，刺孔；n.刺伤，刺痛 | |
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pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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jade
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| n.玉石；碧玉；翡翠 | |
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holder
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| n.持有者，占有者；(台，架等)支持物 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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