p&c.thunderhead-第22章

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　poems；　usually　no　more　than　ten　or　twelve　lines；　with　titles　like　〃Workin　up　a　Quit；〃　〃Ford　F…350；〃　〃Durango　Saturday　Night。〃　Then；　toward　the　back　of　the　journal；　she　found　poems　of　a　pletely　different　nature：　longer；　more　serious。　There　was　even　a　poem　that　appeared　to　be　in　Latin。　She　turned　back　to　one　called　〃Hurricane　Deck。〃　
　〃Is　this　about　Smithback's　horse？〃　
　Swire　nodded。　〃We　go　way　back；　that　horse　and　me。〃　
　He　came　tearing　down　the　draw　one　stormy　winter's　night；　
　A　brush…tailed　mustang；　full　of　piss　and　fight。　
　I　saddled　up　a　chaser　and　laid　a　rope　around　his　neck；　
　Corralled　him　and　christened　him　Hurricane　Deck。　
　　
　Hurricane　Deck；　Hurricane　Deck；　hard　on　the　eye　and　the　saddle；　
　You　whomper…jawed；　hay…bellied；　cold…backed　old　spraddle；　
　Only　a　blind　mare　could　love　your　snip…nosed　face；　
　Oh；　but　I　tell　you；　Hurricane　Deck　could　race。　
　I　trained　him　for　heeling；　took　him　on　the　road；　
　At　Amarillo　and　Santa　Fe　we　won　a　load；　
　He　served　me　well；　from　Salinas　to　Solitude；　
　But　Hurricane's　been　retired　to　loading　up　dudes。　
　〃I　need　to　work　on　the　last　stanza；〃　said　Swire。　〃It　don't　sound　right。　Ends　kind　of　sudden。〃　
　〃Did　you　really　catch　him　wild？〃　Nora　asked。　
　〃Sure　did。　One　summer　when　I　was　running　a　pack　string　at　the　T…Cross　up　in　Dubois；　Wyoming；　I　heard　talk　about　this　buckskin　mustang　that　nobody　could　catch。　He　was　an　outlaw；　never　branded；　always　broke　for　the　mountains　when　he　saw　riders。　Then　that　night　I　saw　him。　Lightning　spooked　him；　sent　him　right　past　the　bunkhouse。　I　chased　that　son　of　a　bitch　for　three　days。〃　
　〃Three　days？〃　
　〃I　kept　cutting　him　off　from　the　mountains；　circling　him　back　around　past　the　ranch。　Each　time　I　picked　up　a　fresh　mount。　I　wore　out　six　horses　afore　I　got　a　rope　on　him。　He's　some　horse。　The　son　of　a　bitch　can　jump　a　barbwire　fence　and　I've　seen　him　walk；　just　as　nice　as　you　please；　across　a　cattle　guard。〃　
　Nora　handed　back　the　journal。　〃I　think　these　are　excellent。〃　
　〃Aw；　horsehocky；〃　Swire　said；　but　he　looked　pleased。　
　〃Where'd　you　learn　the　Latin？〃　
　〃From　my　father；〃　came　the　answer。　〃He　was　a　minister；　always　after　me　to　read　this　and　study　that。　Got　it　into　his　head　that　if　I　knew　Latin；　I　wouldn't　raise　so　much　hell。　It　was　the　Third　Satire　of　Horace　that　finally　made　me　light　out　of　there。〃　
　He　fell　silent；　stroking　his　mustache；　looking　down　toward　the　cook。　〃He's　a　damn　fine　beanmaster；　but　he's　an　odd　son　of　a　bitch；　ain't　he？〃　
　Nora　followed　his　gaze　to　the　tall；　heavyset　figure　of　Bonarotti。　Postprandial　ablutions　pleted；　the　cook　was　now　preparing　himself　for　bed。　Nora　watched　as；　with　finicky　care；　Bonarotti　inflated　an　air　mattress；　applied　nocturnal　facial　creams；　and　readied　what　appeared　to　be　a　hairnet　and　a　facial　mask。　
　〃What's　he　doing　now？〃　Swire　muttered；　as　Bonarotti　began　working　his　fingers　into　his　ears。　
　〃The　croaking　of　the　frogs　disturbs　his　rest；〃　Sloane　Goddard　said；　emerging　from　the　darkness　and　taking　a　seat　beside　them。　She　laughed　her　low；　husky　laugh；　eyes　reflecting　the　distant　firelight。　〃So　he　brought　along　earplugs。　And　he's　got　a　little　silk　pillow　that　would　turn　my　great　aunt　green　with　envy。〃　
　〃Odd　son　of　a　bitch；〃　Swire　repeated。　
　〃Maybe；〃　Sloane　said；　turning　toward　the　wrangler　and　eyeing　him　up　and　down；　one　eyebrow　raised。　〃But　he's　no　wimp。　I've　seen　him　on　Denali　in　a　blizzard　with　the　temperature　at　sixty　below。　Nothing　fazes　him。　It's　as　if　he　has　no　feelings　at　all。〃　
　Nora　watched　the　cook　slip　gingerly　into　his　tent　and　snug　down　the　zipper。　Then　she　turned　back　to　Sloane。　〃So　tell　me　about　your　recon。　How　is　it　upcanyon？〃　
　〃Not　so　good。　A　lot　of　dense　willow　and　salt　cedar　brush；　with　plenty　of　loose　rock。〃　
　〃How　far　did　you　go？〃　
　〃A　mile　and　a　half；　maybe。〃　
　〃Can　the　horses　make　it？〃　Swire　asked。　
　〃Yes。　But　we're　going　to　need　brush　hooks　and　axes。　And　there　isn't　much　water。〃　Sloane　glanced　down　at　the　remnants　of　the　group；　lounging　around　the　fire　drinking　coffee。　〃Some　of　them　are　going　to　be　unpleasantly　surprised。〃　
　〃How　much　water？〃　
　〃A　pothole　here　and　there。　Less　as　you　go　up。　And　that's　not　all。〃　Sloane　reached　into　a　pocket　and　pulled　out　a　map　and　a　penlight。　〃I've　been　studying　the　topo。　Your　father　found　Quivira　somewhere　upcanyon；　right？〃　
　Nora　frowned；　unaware　that　Sloane　had　brought　along　maps　of　her　own。　〃That's　about　right。〃　
　〃And　we're　here。〃　Sloane　moved　the　penlight。　〃Look　what's　between　us　and　Quivira。〃　
　She　moved　the　penlight　to　a　spot　on　the　map　where　the　elevation　lines　came　together　in　an　angry　black　mass：　a　ridge；　high；　difficult；　and　dangerous。　
　〃I　know　all　about　that　ridge；〃　Nora　said；　aware　of　how　defensive　she　must　sound。　〃My　father　called　it　the　Devil's　Backbone。　But　I　don't　see　any　reason　to　get　everyone　worried　prematurely。〃　
　Sloane　snapped　off　the　light　and　refolded　the　map。　〃What　makes　you　think　our　horses　can　make　it？〃　
　〃My　father　found　a　way　to　get　his　horses　over　that　ridge。　If　he　could　do　it；　we　can。〃　
　Sloane　looked　back　at　her　in　the　starlight；　a　long；　penetrating　look；　the　amused　expression　never　leaving　her　face。　Then　she　simply　nodded。　
　
　
18
　
　THE　NEXT　MORNING；　AFTER　A　BREAKFAST　ONLY　a　little　less　miraculous　than　its　predecessor；　Nora　assembled　the　group　beside　the　packed　horses。　
　〃It's　going　to　be　a　tough　day；〃　she　said。　〃We're　probably　going　to　be　doing　a　lot　of　walking。〃　
　〃Walking　sounds　good　to　me；〃　Holroyd　said。　〃I'm　sore　in　places　I　didn't　know　I　had。〃　There　was　an　assenting　murmur。　
　〃Can　I　have　a　different　pack　horse？〃　Smithback　asked；　leaning　against　a　rock。　
　Swire　ejected　a　stream　of　tobacco　juice。　〃Got　a　problem？〃　
　〃Yeah。　A　horse…sized　problem。　Beetlebum　over　there　keeps　trying　to　bite　me。〃　
　The　horse　tossed　its　head　in　a　mighty　nod；　then　nickered　evilly。　
　〃Likes　the　taste　of　ham；　I　guess；〃　said　Swire。　
　〃That's　Mr。　Prosciutto　to　you；　pal。〃　
　〃He's　just　kidding　around。　If　he　really　wanted　to　bite；　you'd　know　it。　Like　I　said；　he's　got　a　sense　of　humor；　just　like　you。〃　Swire　glanced　at　Nora。　
　Despite　herself；　Nora　found　the　writer's　disfiture　covertly　satisfying。　〃Roscoe's　right；　I'd　rather　not　make　any　changes　unless　we　have　to。　Let's　give　it　another　day。〃　She　climbed　into　the　saddle；　then　gave　the　signal　to　mount　up。　〃Sloane　and　I　will　go　first　and　pick　out　a　trail。　Roscoe　will　bring　up　the　rear。〃　
　They　moved　forward　into　the　dry　streambed；　the　horses　pushing　through　the　dense　brush。　Hard　Twist　Canyon　was　hot　and　close；　with　none　of　the　charm　of　the　previous　day's　ride。　One　side　of　the　canyon　lay　in　deep　purple　shadow；　while　the　other　was　etched　in　sunlight；　a　contrast　almost　painful　to　the　eyes。　Salt　cedars　and　willows　arched　over　their　heads；　creating　a　hot　tunnel　in　which　ugly；　oversized　horseflies　droned。　
　The　brush　grew　thicker；　and　Nora　and　Sloane　dismounted　to　hack　a　path。　It　was　hot；　miserable　work。　Making　things　worse；　they　found　only　a　few　stagnant　potholes　of　water　that　did　not　keep　up　with　the　horses'　thirst。　The　riders　seemed　to　bear　up　well　enough；　except　for　Black's　sarcastic　protest　when　told　they　would　have　to　ration　water　for　a　while。　Nora　wondered　how　Black　would　react　when　they　reached　the　Devil's　Backbone；　somewhere　in　the　wasteland　ahead　of　them。　His　personality　was　beginning　to　seem　a　high　price　to　pay　for　his　expertise。　
　At　last　they　came　across　a　large　muddy　pool；　hidden　on　the　far　side　of　a　rockslide。　The　horses　crowded　forward。　In　the　excitement；　Holroyd　dropped　the　lead　rope　of　Charlie　Taylor；　his　pack　horse；　who　eagerly　bounded　forward　into　the　muddy　pool。　
　Swire　turned　at　the　sound。　〃Wait！〃　he　called；　but　it　was　too　late。　
　There　was　a　sudden；　terrifying　pause　as　the　horse　realized　it　was　bogging　down　in　quicksand。　Then；　in　an　explosion　of　flexing　muscle；　the　animal　tried　to　back　out；　legs　churning；　spraying　thick　mud；　whinnying　in　shrill　fear。　After　a　few　moments　it　flopped　back　into　the　muck；　sides　shuddering　in　panic。　
　Without　hesitating；　Swire　jumped　down　into　the　muck　beside　the　horse；　drew　his　knife；　and　with　two　deft　strokes　cut　through　the　diamond　hitch。　As　Nora　watched；　two　hundred　pounds　worth　of　provisions　slid　off　the　horse's　back　into　the　mud。　Swire　grabbed　the　lead　rope　and　pulled　the　horse's　head　to　the　side；　simultaneously　quirting　him　on　the　rump。　With　a　great　sucking　noise　the　horse　struggled　free。　Swire　labored　out　of　the　mud　himself；　dragging　the　pack　behind　him。　Resheathing　his　knife；　he　collected　the　shaking　animal's　lead　rope　and　wordlessly　handed　it　to　Holroyd。　
　〃Sorry；〃　said　the　young　man　sheepishly；　throwing　a　deeply　embarrassed　glance　at　Nora。　
　Swire　stuffed　a　plug　of　tobacco　into　his　already　full　cheek。　〃No　problem。　Coulda　happened　to　anyone。〃　
　Both　Swire　and　the　pack　were　liberally　covered　in　vile…smelling　muck。　〃Maybe　this　is　a　good　time　to　stop　for　lunch；〃　Nora　said。　
　After　a　quick　meal；　with　the　horses　watered　and　the　canteens　full　of　purified　water；　they　set　out　again。　The　growing　heat　had　baked　the　canyon　into　a　kind　of　oppressive　somnolence；　and　all　was　quiet　save　for　the　clatter　of　horses'　hooves　and　the　occasional　muttered　imprecations　from　Smithback　to　his　pack　horse。　
　〃Goddammit；　Elmer；〃　he　finally　cried；　〃get　your　hairy　lips　off　me！〃　
　〃He　likes　you；〃　Swire　said。　〃And　his　name's　Beetlebum。〃　
　〃Soon　as　we　get　back　to　civilization；　it's　going　to　be　Elmer；〃　Smithback　said。　〃I'm　going　to　personally　escort　this　nag　to　the　nearest　glue　factory。〃　
　〃Now　don't　go　hurtin'　his　feelings；〃　Swire　drawled；　punctuating　the　sentence　with　a　spit　of　tobacco　juice。　
　Their　route　branched　again　into　an　unnamed　canyon。　Here；　the　walls　were　narrower　and　well　scoured　by　flash　floods；　but　there　was　less　brush　and　the　riding　grew　a　little　easier。　At　one　broad　bend；　where　the　canyon　temporarily　widened；　Nora　reined　in　her　horse　and　waited　for　Sloane　to　catch　up。　Looking　around　idly；　she　suddenly　tensed；　pointing　toward　a　cutbank　on　the　inside　of　the　bend　where　flash　floods　had　sliced　through　the　old　streambed。　
　〃See　that？〃　she　asked；　indicating　a　long　thin　swale　of　stained　soil　beside　what　looked　like　a　linear　arrangement　of　stones。　
　〃Charcoal；〃　Sloane　nodded　as　she　rode　up。　
　They　dismounted　and　examined　the　layer。　Her　breath　ing　fast　with　excitement；　Nora　picked　up　some　tiny　fragments　of　charcoal　with　a　pair　of　tweezers　and　placed　them　in　a　test　tube。　〃Just　like　the　Great　North　Road　to　Chaco；〃　she　murmured。　
　Then　she　straightened　up　and　looked　at　Sloane。　〃I　think　we've　finally　found　it。　The　road　my　father　was　following。〃　
　Sloane　smiled。　〃Never　doubted　it。〃　
　They　moved　on。　Now；　wherever　the　canyon　took　a　sharp　bend　and　the　old　floor　was　exposed　as　a　bench　high　above　the　stream；　they　could　see　charcoal…stained　ground　and；　infrequently；　lines　of　stones。　Time　and　again；　Nora　found　herself　picturing　her　father：　riding　along　this　same　trail；　seeing　these　same　sights。　It　gave　her　a　feeling　of　connection　she　hadn't　felt　since　he　died。　
　Around　three　o'clock　they　stopped　to　rest　the　horses；　taking　refuge　under　an　overhang。　
　〃Hey；　look；〃　Holroyd　said；　pointing　to　a　large　green　plant　growing　out　of　the　sand；　covered　with　huge；　funnel…shaped　white　flowers。　〃Datura　meteloides。　Its　roots　are　saturated　with　atropine…the