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.Maybe they think we’re horsethieves.A goat watched them from a low roof with its agate eyes.Ay cabrón, said Billy.This is a hell of a place, said Boyd.They found a woman to feed them and they sat on a mat of woven rushes on the clay floor and ate cold atole out of homemade bowls of unfired clay.When they wiped the bottoms of the bowls their tortillas came up gritty and stained with mud.They tried to pay the woman but she would take no money.Billy offered again for the niños but she said there were no niños.They camped that night in a grove of cottonwoods by the river and staked out the horses in the river grass and they stripped off and swam in the river in the dark.The water was cold and silky.The dog sat on the bank and watched them.In the morning Billy rose before daybreak and walked out and unstaked Niño and led him back to camp and saddled him and mounted up with the shotgun.Where you goin? said Boyd.See if I can rustle us up somethin to eat.All right.Just stay here.I wont be gone long.Where would I go?I dont know.What am I supposed to do if somebody comes?There wont nobody come.What if they do?Billy looked at him.He was crouched with his blanket around his shoulders and he was so thin and ragged.He looked at him and he looked out past the pale boles of the cottonwoods and over the rolling desert grassland emerging in the gray dawnlight.I guess what it is is you want me to leave you the pistol.I think it might be a good idea.Do you know how to shoot it? Yes, damn it.It’s got two safeties.I know it.All right.He took the pistol out of the bag and handed it down to him.There’s one in the chamber.All right.Dont shoot it.That and what’s in the clip is all the shells we got for it.I aint goin to shoot it.All right.How long will you be gone? I wont be gone long.All right.He rode off downriver with the shotgun across the bow of the saddle.He’d taken the buckshot shell from the chamber and rummaged through the shells in the bag and come up with a couple of number five shot and loaded the gun with one of them and buttoned the other into the pocket of his shirt.He rode slowly and he watched the river through the trees as he rode.A mile down he saw ducks on the water.He dismounted and dropped the reins and took the shotgun and began to stalk them through the shore willows.He took off his hat and laid it on the ground.The horse whinnied behind him and he looked back and swore at it under his breath and then raised up and looked out down the river.The ducks were still there.Three dark scaup motionless on the pewter calm of the tailwater.The mist rising off the river like smoke.He made his way carefully through the willows, crouching as he went.The horse nickered again.The ducks flew.He stood up and looked back.Damn you, he said.But the horse was not looking at him.It was looking across the river.He turned and there he saw five men riding.He dropped to his hands and knees.They were coming upriver singlefile through the trees on the far side.They had not seen him.The ducks wheeled overhead in the new sunlight and swung away downriver.The riders looked up, they rode on.Niño stood in plain sight among the willows but they did not see him and he did not whinny again and they passed on and disappeared upriver among the trees.He rose and grabbed up his hat and jammed it on his head and walked carefully back out to where the horse stood that he not spook it and he caught the reins and mounted up and swung the horse around and put it into a lope.He cut away from the river and made a swing out over the prairie.The upper branches of the cottonwoods were already in sunlight.He fished about in the mochila behind him as he rode trying to find the buckshot shell.He did not see the riders anywhere across the river and when he saw his own horses grazing at their stakeropes among the trees he turned toward the camp.Boyd knew what was happening without he said a word and set off to get the horses.Billy swung down and grabbed their blankets and rolled and tied them.Boyd came up the river afoot at a run hazing the horses before him.Get the ropes off of em, Billy called.We’re goin to have to make a run for it.Boyd turned.He put up one hand as if to reach for the first of the horses as they came up out of the trees and then his shirt belled out behind him redly and he fell down on the ground.Billy knew afterward that he had seen the actual riflebullet.That the suck and whiff at his ear had been the bullet passing and that he had seen it for one frozen moment before his eyes with the sun on the side of the small revolving core of metal, the lead wiped bright by the rifling of the bore, slowed from having passed through his brother’s body but still moving faster than sound and passing his left ear with the suck of the air like a whisper from the void and the small jar of the shockwave and then the bullet caroming off of a treebranch and singing away over the desert behind him that by a hairsbreadth had not carried his life away with it and then the sound of the shot come lagging after.It rang out across the river lean and flat and echoed back from the desert
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