By Cormac McCarthy
The nationwide bestseller and the 1st quantity in Cormac McCarthy's Border Trilogy, All the gorgeous Horses is the story of John Grady Cole, who at 16 unearths himself on the finish of a protracted line of Texas ranchers, bring to a halt from the single lifestyles he has ever imagined for himself. With partners, he units off for Mexico on a occasionally idyllic, occasionally comedian trip to a spot the place goals are paid for in blood. Winner of the nationwide ebook Award for Fiction.
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Additional resources for All the Pretty Horses (The Border Trilogy, Book 1)
That’s where we’re headed, said Rawlins. He nodded. They drank their coffee. The man brought their breakfasts on heavy white crockery platters and came back with the coffeepot. Rawlins had peppered his eggs till they were black. He spread butter over the hotcakes. There’s a man likes eggs with his pepper, said the proprietor. He poured their cups and went back to the kitchen. You pay attention to your old dad now, Rawlins said. I’ll show you how to deal with a unruly breakfast. Do it, said John Grady.
Said Rawlins. I’d make it Eldorado. How far is that do you reckon? Ten, fifteen miles. What do you want to do? They spread their bedrolls in a wash and unsaddled and tied the horses and slept till daybreak. When Rawlins sat up John Grady had already saddled his horse and was strapping on his bedroll. There’s a cafe up the road here, he said. Could you eat some breakfast? Rawlins put on his hat and reached for his boots. You’re talkin my language, son. They led the horses up through a midden of old truckdoors and transmissions and castoff motorparts behind the cafe and they watered them at a metal tank used for locating leaks in innertubes.
The Mexican shook his head and spat. I never been to Mexico in my life. When the animals had eaten they saddled them again and led them around to the front of the cafe and down the drive and across the highway. They walked them along the bar ditch to the gate and led them through the gate and closed it. Then they mounted up and rode out the dirt ranch road. They rode it for a mile or so until it veered away to the east and they left it and set out south across the rolling cedar plains. They reached the Devil’s River by midmorning and watered the horses and stretched out in the shade of a stand of black-willow and looked at the map.