All the Pretty Horses Page #2

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Same reason as you.

What reason is that?

They'd go bowlegged|and blind finding your ass down here.

Ain't nobody hunting me.

I told that son of a b*tch he wasn't|whupping me again.

- Your daddy?|- No.

My daddy never came back|from the war.

Your stepdaddy.

I know what it's like|to get a beating.

You didn't shoot him?

I would've. And he knowed it too.

Suppose we trade that horse off|for one less likely get us shot.

- I ain't trading horses.|- We ain't no wet nurses.

- I can take care of myself.|- Sure.

Hell, you're a regular old desperado,|ain't you?

I reckon you got your own gun and all.

Yeah, I got a gun.

What kind of a gun?

-32-20 Colt.|- Bullshit.

That's a rifle cartridge.

Let's see it.

Where'd you get a gun like this?

At the getting place.

- You ever shot it?|- Yeah, I shot it.

- You hit anything?|- Anything you want.

Bullshit.

All right, let's go, outlaw. Come on.

You ready, Annie Oakley?

Waiting on you.

Goddamn.

Let me see it.

- Let me see it.|- We'd better get going.

- Come on, give it to me.|- You know what my wallet looks like.

Look at this sh*t.

She got anything to drink?

What is that?

- Cider.|- All right.

Let's have three of them.

How much is it?

It's like three cents.

Oh, let your old dad buy it.

He about dead-centered|your pocketbook, didn't he?

I want you to look at my|goddamn driver's license.

And my pool hall card.

You won't need them down here.

Look at this sh*t.

Shot Betty Ward between the eyes.

What's she doing in there?

I didn't know you liked her.

What is this? Cactus juice?

I don't know.

- Got a little kick to it, though.|- I think it does.

Pretty doggone good.

Say it again. Say my name again.

Golly!

What am I doing leaving|my hat on the bed? It's not much.

You can't have no more cider.

Sh*t.

I'm drunker than sh*t.

Can you ride or not?

Hell, yeah, I can ride.

I was riding when I fell off.

I'm a regular buckaroo.

Certified damn bronc peeler.

Just leave him lay there.

Get on and quit assing around.|It's fixing to come a good one.

Come on.

I can't be out in this.

- Where do you think you'll go?|- Why can't you?

On account of the lightning.

Damn if you don't look|sober all of a sudden.

- Are you afraid of lightning?|- It runs in the family.

My grandpa, he was killed|in West Virginia in a mine bucket.

It run all the way down the hole|to get him, 180 feet.

A great-uncle on my mother's side...

...was killed off a horse. Horse's|hair wasn't singed, but it killed him.

I got a cousin not|four year older than me.

He was struck by lightning|coming back from his barn.

Melted the fillings in his teeth|and soldered his jaw shut.

He's gone completely dipshit.

I done been struck twice myself.

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