Western story
When Sheriff Parson sees half cigar crushed to the ground, just under the bar in the room where he stopped to drink a drop, he understands that old mixed-race and go from there, and not very likely. The
collects it, smell it and if you rub between your thumb and forefinger of his right hand. It is slightly hot tip and still smells good, and the stench di quel fetido locale non si è ancora impregnata nel tabacco.
Il sigaro schiacciato riassume la volontà del meticcio di calpestare tutto ciò che incontra sotto il suo tacco che pesta con violenza.
Chi altri ha il vizio di schiacciarli sotto lo stivale, compiendo una semirotazione col piede così che i mucci diventino piatti e parzialmente sbriciolati? Quanti mezzi sigari calpestati ha visto Parson nella sua vita? A volte ancora fumanti a terra, sparsi nei posti più impensabili. Sempre indizi del passaggio del vecchio, forse volontarie tracce che lascia dietro di sé.
Lo sceriffo ha passato la prima metà dei suoi anni a sfuggirgli e la seconda a dargli la caccia. Has now become a dog cigars, which sniffs the track to see which way the mixed-race moves and what they are doing.
But this time it will take: it is close, feel the smell of his fugitive used to sleeping anywhere, not even undress, always ready to get shooting and remount a horse at the first sound suspicious.
Parson asks the bartender how much time does not pass the broom under the counter, and the vague answer that understands what it is afraid that it will fine for the hygiene of the premises. The laugh. Should fine himself, if he went around to give fines for poor hygiene. Himself Arizona and a half. Hygiene and cleanliness are not the guiding values \u200b\u200bof those places; There are many other disgusting things to think about before, and tells him: - Do not tell me shit, do not give a damn whether or not clean the room, but I need to understand something, tell me the truth or I'll knock in for perjury.
laughs to himself when he says that nonsense of perjury, but what if he drinks. The sheriff's star is messing with these people, and two Navajo Indians, who until then were seated in the pipe smoking weed with that stunned those who do not expect anything from life, jump to their feet and leave the room.
When a sheriff begins to ask questions and raise their voice is always prudent to be somewhere else, and the Indians carry with them a couple of generations of fear, in large part motivated, that the Yankees always bring trouble in one way or another.
so it is with Annette, despite living many years in their midst, or perhaps because of that. Do not ever trust the way down, not even him.
- No, no, wait, do not get mad - replies the bartender - Now that I think will not do that at least four hours down there, since I opened this morning.
is little more than four hours ahead, then, as the bartender is also remembered that the guy with the cigar came shortly after the opening, he bought a bottle of whiskey and was released immediately.
Four hours: now he is behind it, it smells, or rather the smell. Remounted his horse and leaves.
That was one of his camp, can not err. As always, it left in the middle of the night, leaving again on the small fire that has warmed as he closed his eyes for a few hours.
Sheriff rekindle his fire. Curious how it used to take his remains and to continue the old one that broke!
She lies on his back. The fire has started to throw fire, at first timidly, then more and higher towards the stars, who insist on tapping the black of night. Search
his star in the sky, that he had chosen together with Annette on a warm night ten years earlier, while the half-caste drunken snoring on the sofa in the kitchen and the dog continued to bark in the direction of some shade. They had a surplus of soup so that the animal would stop barking, or you might wake up the old and had had to stop what had not yet begun to do, but that was in the air that short air gap that still separates their bodies and their mouths, while the stars were looking at them from above. After
, Annette had welcomed him into her arms and receiving brought in at night and acrid smell of his little body, just as the sky above the stars greeted with silent wonder.
He had never experienced anything more natural and full in life that slip inside her body, as if returning to a place known always, to an intimacy that had been his before he had imagined when the little raven-haired Indian beads and two black eyes had entered the house, turning the anguish of the long cold winter afternoons the smell of her childhood discovery of manhood.
The landscape has changed suddenly, as one can do in the land of Arizona after a plateau has been opened in an infinite expanse of low bushes, clinging to the rocks and clods of dried yellow ground.
Parson ama quel senso di scoperta e di apertura della sua terra: galoppare verso la palla del sole in mezzo a una vallata senza confini certi gli da un gran senso di potenza, lo rassicura.
Da quelle parti pare non succeda mai nulla, ma è solo la calma apparente di una natura che invece è sempre in movimento, frullata dal vento che fischia tra i cespugli, e popolata da mille animali invisibili che strisciano silenziosi, come i suoi pensieri.
A un occhio distratto il paesaggio è piatto e monotono, invece continua a degradare con discrezione nei colori della terra, e nell’altezza e densità dei cespugli. Parson cavalca dentro la larga sinfonia della natura che quel mattino lo vuole protagonista sul suo cavallo nero, mentre runs on the horizon with his eyes examining every possible trace of the other. Suddenly he is on the Irish song and a feeling of cold in the belly: the old has to be around, that's one of its manifestations, along with cigar crushed.
With a tug on the reins Dry stops his colt, who stands up on its forelegs and moves backward to examine the nose with the eye fluid and along the intentions of the master.
The sheriff does not pay attention to the animal and its hints of nitrite, except to calm him down with a light pat on the neck sweat, just gets up in the stirrups and slowly turns his head first right, then sinistra, infine completa l’osservazione girandosi indietro con il busto.
Quando riprende a muoversi al passo, ha un sorriso amaro dipinto sul viso. La vallata è immersa nel silenzio più completo, rotto solo dallo strusciare di un serpente a pochi passi e dalla corsa affannosa di una lepre che salta da un cespuglio all’altro per cercare un riparo.
Ha dentro quella canzone fin da quando era bambino e ogni tanto gli viene su, come un’angoscia che si riproponga improvvisa nel cuore della notte e tenga svegli. È giorno, eppure Parson ha sentito ancora quella maledetta canzone irlandese, dentro il buio e il silenzio della sua pancia.
Tecnicamente si era trattato di incesto, and that he ran away ten years ago when the old one had found them inside the other, stuck in a world that had nothing to do with her.
The old man suddenly appeared outside and had started to scream: - You little bastard, you want to take me away! Annette is my stuff! - Then he ran into the house, and Parsons did not wait to see him go out with a gun in hand. It was already a few hundred yards away riding his horse when he heard two shots in the air whistle.
had run headlong into the wilderness, crossed the mountains of Utah and had stopped his horse when he fell to the ground. When he was pulled over his head, a sign said it was arrived in Wyoming and young people who tried to enlist in the army. He had queued with the other in front of a door, feeling right at home: there were those who gave orders and executing them, nothing to understand and fear.
The sadness of having left in the hands Annette was however a pain that kept him awake at night, but the law was against them - technically it was a case of incest - although Annette was a little older than him and had entered into the home near the Colorado as a second wife and then her stepmother.
Annette or the Moon, his name when he was still at the Navajo village, a group of huts scattered among the dust of the desert, two drunken-skinned brunette and long hair that hung around, dried up a mule with a rope attached to a pole.
It was there that the old man bought it from his family for a few cases of whiskey poor quality and damaged a lot of cigars.
"I am married to one," said Annette, and he said he swallowed, as if every time were hard to swallow the piece of paper and attached it to the Parson's father.
The old man had brought into an office and someone had made her sign a document, and after he had told her that they were husband and wife.
But now that star sewn on his coat worn saying that he was the law, and that it was the other had to escape, cower in the dark of night like a hunted animal, which looks up to the sky and howl at the stars, perhaps to plead with the direction, but more probably cursing the light that dazzles and shoot in the reflections of the belt and guns, as well as a little further back you cut a small space, star-shaped chest Sheriff Parson.
The case had brought them first meet him in a black night in the mountains of Utah. Parson, in his blue uniform of the army sergeant northerner, was patrolling the streets of a town just released and had heard muffled cries coming from the floor of a wooden house pink.
- Let it be, that is only the brothel! - Had told the soldier patrolling with him.
- can be recognized at a distance have every aspect of doll house - had continued the soldier, but Parson did not convince the thing: something was going on in there.
- Of course something happens, Parson, are having fun while we're out in the cold - and because the officer was heading home, he continued: - You're not going to groove, too?
Parson had ice cream with her eyes, as he opened the door. It was not locked.
ground floor there was none. A wooden staircase leads upstairs and from there came the muffled screams and the long whistle of a whip. He knew that sound and the excruciating pain that followed.
The soldier looked at him, her face becoming serious. A nod of the head, the two had gone up slowly, being careful not to creak of the wooden steps, broken in several places.
When they opened the door with guns shooting episodes, Parson had immediately recognized the face of his father, the term was devastated when he was drunk and was taken from his violent obsession.
The whip, who had heard whistling from the bottom, was in his hands and left her long embroidered blood on the back of the two black girls, gagged and tied up half naked at the bureau.
- Sono solo due puttane! - aveva urlato, ancora prima di aver riconosciuto il figlio nel sottufficiale in divisa nemica, che gli intimava di gettare la frusta e di seguirlo con le mani alzate dietro la testa.
Quando Parson, senza dire una parola, gli aveva puntato la pistola contro la schiena, solo allora il meticcio lo aveva riconosciuto, e gli aveva gridato: - Sei sempre stato un cretino!
E’ destino che siano sempre i versi e i lamenti delle sue vittime a tradirne la presenza. Altrimenti non sarebbe facile trovare quell’uomo che si nasconde bene in qualsiasi ambiente, un’arte che ha ereditato dal padre indiano che non ha mai conosciuto.
Per lui i confini non esistono: conosce trails, cliffs, caves and underground tunnels exist for others. At night, when he was a boy, climbed the hills and looked down into the rocky gorges, looking over the expanse as far as the eye shadow, a light, something that would capture his attention, it was an invitation to his need to go.
was the mixture of calmness and dissatisfaction that can hear only a half-breed. He was not afraid of anything, except himself.
His mother, just arrived from Ireland with her parents, she was raped by a warrior Chejenne when he was only sixteen years: born of the father's anger and fear of the mother, had merged the two states of mind in one, dense and bad, and what had become a shield to defend himself from life.
He had learned to kill animals and not to trust anyone. Taught him that the Indians who had attended the Navajo village since he was a kid. And he continued to attend as an adult for his trades he had made a trade, if you can call it the art of deceiving the people of desperate have-nots, sell high genres that they would be even more slaves of the Yankees , stunned by their whiskey and their tobacco.
The horse of the old half-breed, closely tied to a bush, you are rubbing against the thorny leaves, and in trying to rid made a loop of the reins that emissions under the throat and nose plugs the wound. The colt
Parson or hear the moans and stops suddenly in the middle of the clearing. The sheriff then leaves him free rein and is guided: the senses know that the purpose of the animal can lead to where it could not his intelligence. In fact, near the bush that is scratching the animal's muzzle, is one of his cigars, as always crushed on the ground in half again.
First, the sheriff's horse mestizo free and lets you start at a gallop. The chase would have been concluded between those mountains, in each case. Then, armed with a gun, begins to rise, moving cautiously. It can not be far away.
When is the peak, he sees it. Indeed, even before you see the gray stain that stands out among the red rocks of iron a hundred feet below, to get that song. His father is sleeping, and singing, this time, he is on the belly.
was in the closet under the stairs, in the midst of the scope and the garbage pail, was always there when those who came to see him locked up. His sick mother slept upstairs, and to make sure that the child should not have to wake her, he closes in on that black hole under the stairs, where he had to be folded in half to not beat la testa.
- Tu stai qui, fatti un riposino - gli diceva, stendendogli una delle coperte da cavallo ammonticchiate in un angolo e chiudendo velocemente la porticina con due mandate.
Finiva sempre con lui che grugniva come un orso, smozzicando insulti nella lingua dei nativi, e con quelle che piangevano, mentre lui le prendeva a schiaffi, sì quelli erano proprio schiaffi, conosceva bene il suono di quelle mani sulla pelle.
Dopo averle sbattute fuori di casa, cominciava a intonare quella vecchia canzone irlandese che aveva anche cercato di insegnargli: un canto lento e scuro che raccontava di navi e di tempeste, di morti e di assassini. Il bambino sentiva la voce ubriaca del padre immergersi in quel suo mondo lontano and opaque, and then sought it even more black in the bottom of the closet. To not even see that thread of light from the small opening of the casing, the blanket was thrown on him: he knew of horses and mold and so stunning that the end could not fall asleep.
Now is the other to sleep. The bit according to the sheriff with the eye of the wire barrel of the gun until the circle of the viewfinder: inside that circle is his father, a single hit and there would be no more, and that song with him.
- Pam! - Does with his mouth, and puts away the gun.
When he found his father in the brothel of Utah, had been arrested. He had served several years, since he had used the occasion of war to kill many of the ghosts that have always had populated his mind. His many victims had brought the image over the life of the man in gray uniform who laughed while he killed them.
In the living body of Annette, however, the old man had carved the dense tormented by his own desires: her little brown back, covered by the twirls of the scars, it was his favorite painting, and there his hand had been able to work in silence House on the bank of the Colorado, while she was biting the pillow and wiped the tears in the sheets.
It was the smile to welcome Annette Parson and his embrace to suffer at home when it crossed that threshold, he had left in a mad flight ten years ago.
He was in prison, at last, locked in his torment, and the two of them instead to find out the paths that were lost for so long, but again that seemed neat and clean. The articulated design on the back of Annette, tattoos love harassing the man, who approached him more than her gorgeous clothes and lingerie lace would never have done, and made them feel together even in the pain that both had tried to guilty of the same man.
When the war ended he became the sheriff of the county, and the star that shone on his breast testified that he had no doubt from the della ragione, sempre e comunque.
Ma il tormento sottile di Parson e Annette, che si sapevano amanti innocenti, ma incestuosi, aveva continuato ad agitare le notti di entrambi, e si insinuava sotto la consapevolezza della luce del giorno e al di là della ragione a cinque punte della legge cucita sul cappotto.
Quando Parson aveva saputo che suo padre era evaso e che qualcuno gli aveva sentito dire che voleva riprendersi ciò che era suo, non attese di vederlo comparire sulla soglia, così come non aveva aspettato che lui rientrasse a prendere il fucile quella notte.
Portò Annette a casa di amici, montò a cavallo e iniziò la caccia.
“Anche i peggiori delinquenti appear to be children while they sleep "thinks, watching crouching on the ground, with a serene face, maybe just the hangover.
The old man with a hand held by the neck and an empty bottle of whiskey in the other holds the gun. Parson pressed his foot on his right arm and immediately takes possession of the gun, and kicked him to jump off the bottle on the other hand. He knows that a bottle can become a deadly weapon and does not want to take risks.
Even before opening his eyes, his half-breed to try to catch the foot, but a kick in the face to stun him briefly.
Parson takes hours to a couple of feet away with the two guns aimed, without saying anything and waves him up again.
Just standing, having no other weapons to hurt him, the old man starts to shoot his mouth - Have you always been a fool, only good to get my scrap, Sheriff! - Say, by saying that last word as if it were the worst of insults. Then he spits on the ground, right in the middle of the foot Parson, who listened impassively.
- Did you get that bitch of an Indian blood you always did, is not it, sheriff! - Ride rudely, but Parsons does not react, and then continues: - You can take the. Just ask and I would have passed me, it's my property, I paid regularly with such contract.
Parson can not hide the discomfort created by those words and the other continues, alternating between laughter at the words - you do not really believe the story of the wedding, right? Come on, sheriff, has not been so naive as to believe that I had married her? I called his wife just to make her feel good, at least that you shall have it now?
index Parson press on the trigger that controls the firing: that little hammer has almost finished its run, a few millimeters and a shot to seal the mouth of his father forever.
Instead of the words that continue to flow along with the stench of whiskey: - Yes, you have found, two bastards who give vent to one's arms.
Parson decreases the pressure on the trigger and the old man continued: - Well, I never knew who you are son, Sheriff! Certainly not mine. When I met your mother, she was already pregnant, but her father had promised me that beautiful house on the banks of the Colorado. We make mistakes in life, I was to accept you, and see what I have in return!
The man continues to overflow its rotting, but Parsons has never heard words like, and while the old man insists on complaining that he's taking all his stuff, and his Indian home, the sheriff has already far from there, the accounts closed definitively with the past.
The rest is done as routine, not listen to him. He would not shed more blood because of a Parson, and that mongrel would end his life locked in a cell, to sing his own damn Irish song.
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