Broke (remixes s.a.'s Tame)
Dec. 16th, 2003 08:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zarahemlaYippee! The Silverlake Remix is up, and it makes me sooo happy. < GIR > I love Silverlake. I love it so good. < /GIR >
Here's my story. It's a remix of s.a.'s "Tame," which is in the All the Pretty Horses fandom. Obscure much? LOL
Title: Broke
Author: Zara Hemla (shutupmulder@yahoo.com)
Site: if.lightquencher.net
Fandom: All The Pretty Horses
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Somehow I have a feeling McCarthy
wouldn't approve. Sorry, man.
Summary: (Remix of "Tame" by s.a. For the
Silverlake Remix 2.)
They let Rawlins go just inside the door and he
slid to the floor and sat for a moment and then bent
slowly forward and to one side and sat holding
himself. The guard crooked his finger at John Grady
who sat squinting up at them in the sudden light. He
rose. He looked down at Rawlins.
You sons of bitches, he said.
Tell em whatever they want to hear, bud,
whispered Rawlins. It dont make a damn. (166)
--Broke--
A ranchers son ought to be used to hardship.
Ranching is nothing but hardship, day after day,
baking the sun under your skin until you feel as
dried out and flattened as the land itself. Then you
are the land, then you are truly home.
John Grady knows where his home is: was used to hard
living. He and Lacey spent hours sleeping rough,
eating almost nothing, pulling their hats down
against the sunset. But now he and Lacey are in
Saltillo, a place beyond hard living. Saltillo
chokes deeper than a hanging rope.
A few rats skitter in and out of the small holes in
the walls. There is no food for them, and the ones
that get food usually end up as food later. Lacey
and Grady havent started eating rats yet -- but they
get hungry enough, they just might. Grady tries not
to think about it but he knows that they have been
here three days and it might be years before they get
out, maybe forever. Don Héctor's fucked them over,
and no one's coming for them.
The reality of this hits hardest when Grady sees
Lacey trying for bravery in the courtyard, almost
afraid of his own shadow, all the fun and devilry
beat out of him. Grady fears that Lacey will never
be the same, will never recover. They beat him
before Saltillo and beat him for three days in
Saltillo and Lacey had taken it brave, but he wasnt
made for beating. Grady knows Laceys soft places,
and it seems like the Mexicans have found them all.
And now maybe Lacey is rotting from the inside, like
an apple where you cant hardly see the bruise.
He wants to reassure Lacey with touch but he cant.
No matter where they are, someone is watching. They
might get the wrong idea, might take action, and
Lacey dont need more action. Plus there is the way
Lacey looks at him now, hurt and angry and all for
him and the girl and asking mutely what the hell they
are doing here in Mexico anyway, whose fool idea was
it that they rode their horses down here. Grady
doesnt know how to break through the hurt. They lay
on their bunks and the silence settles over them
thicker than any feather quilt. It dont keep them
warm though.
At night coming on to dawn is the time when Blevins
appears most clearly to Grady. That pinche boy who
stole his own guns back but stripped scared of a
rainstorm. Couldnt of been more than thirteen, and
now he was lying in a ditch with his head blown off.
In these lucid dreams Grady sees the boy standing
barefoot far off in the desert, waving his arms and
calling something. Grady cant ever make it out and
he wakes in a cold sweat and lays there shaking until
the heat of daytime creeps in through the bars.
Often he looks over and sees Laceys set face and open
eyes but he doesnt say anything, he doesnt dare.
Saltillo has dried up all the words in him and all
that is left is a rage that wants to murder. Thats
why he dont mind getting beat, as long as he can give
a good beating in return. He figures he's earned
this payment from Don Héctor, since he loves the
girl. But he loves Lacey too, and Lacey dont deserve
this. Grady cant apologize, cant explain. He doesnt
talk and they sit in the courtyard and Grady stares
at the space between his planted boots.
The sun beats down on the top of his head. Lacey
sits a few feet away and picks at a lone piece of
grass that grew in the shade. Doesnt pull it out
though: some things need to survive.
You remember that time, says Lacey, that you broke
that horse of your dads?
Grady doesnt answer, squints fiercely down at his
boots. Lacey stops for a minute and then asks again.
Remember? That big damn horse your dad said he'd
beat you if you went near him.
Grady finally spits down into the dirt and lifts his
head to eye Lacey. I remember.
You got on that son of a bitch and he tossed you onto
your head. You busted it wide open. You was bleedin
and you said the world was spinnin around like a
merry go round.
Lacey, what the hell does that have to do with
anythin?
Your head was busted but you got back on that horse
and you broke him. That horse had no chance once you
set eyes on him. Lacey leans back and bangs his head
softly against the courtyard wall. Grady, horrified,
sees that he is about to cry.
Lacey, dont you cry no fuckin tears. What the hell
you thinkin?
Shit, Grady, says Lacey and closes his eyes. I cant
help it anymore. I'm that horse.
What?
I'm that horse, Grady. I been rode and rode by a son
of a bitch with a bloody head. And I'm tired and
sore and still he wont - let - me - be. Lacey shoves
his head down into his crooked elbow and his
shoulders shake.
Oh shit, mutters Grady, surveying the courtyard. The
heat has kept most everyone in the meager shade to
the right of them, and the prisoners are sitting
around smoking and playing their version of poker.
They arent looking now but they will be. Grady turns
on his friend and hisses at him.
Lacey shut the hell up, they'll see you.
He risks it then, puts his hand on Laceys shoulder,
feels the muscle jump under the worn prison denim.
Lacey please. Come on. I mean shit if I'd of known
you were gonna take on so about a stallion I'd of
left him in the corral.
That works: Lacey comes out of his crouch and stares
at him with wet eyes. Grady risks another look at
the group of men who are still intent on their cards.
Then he wipes away Laceys tears with his thumb.
Lacey closes his eyes again and his hand comes up and
clutches Gradys wrist.
You know it wasnt the horse I was worried about that
day.
Well I would hope it was me.
You were so white and you laid so still. I thought
you was gonna die and then what would I tell your
father?
Just tell him I'd meet him in hell. And to shoot the
stallion so's I could have something to ride down
there.
Think its funny, huh?
Grady drops his hand and Lacey drops his. They
resume staring at their respective boots.
Dammit, Lacey -- says Grady finally, talking to his
boots.
The dinner bell rings and Lacey painfully gets to his
feet. He watches Grady narrowly, most of the hurt
back in his eyes: the knowledge of the girl between
them.
I'm sorry too, he says, and walks away toward the
mess.
That night Grady finally hears what Blevins is saying
in the dream but it doesnt help. Get out, get out,
get away from Mexico, thats what the pinche boy is
yelling, and Grady tries to answer that its too late,
that its no use. He wakes shivering in the desert
chill and rolls over trying to find a bit of blanket.
Lacey is awake too but this time he's watching Grady.
He smiles crookedly and hunches himself down into his
own thin blanket. Grady has a sudden vivid memory of
that stallion he broke standing head down, blowing
and sweating and wore out and compliant at last. The
thought makes him slide out of bed and kneel by
Laceys cot.
You aint broke, he whispers, the rage in him so near
the surface. You aint broke, dont let no one tell
you different.
Maybe not yet, says Lacey, but I will be.
You wont, says John Grady, I wont let you, and he
puts a hand on Laceys chest where his undershirt
meets his collarbone and feels his heart beating
strong. Lacey does the same to him and they put
their foreheads together and Lacey kisses him slowly
twice and he kisses Lacey back.
Dont break and I wont, whispers Lacey against his
mouth.
We wont break, says John Grady back to him, feeling
Laceys inaudible sigh. We aint horses, we're Texans.
Let em try.
--end--
Notes: If you got through this but are still
wondering what the hell I was doing -- I took this
story in part to play with the conventions that
McCarthy uses in his novel.
In fact, if you wanted a book setting, it would be
top of page 187 (trade paperback), between the time
where Lacey says, "They could kill us any time" and
John Grady says, "I know," and the two days later
that Pérez calls them up to his "office." If you
haven't read the book, please do, it's wonderful.
In the book, John Grady goes by "John Grady," but
s.a. calls him "Grady," and so that's what I'm doing.
Here's my story. It's a remix of s.a.'s "Tame," which is in the All the Pretty Horses fandom. Obscure much? LOL
Title: Broke
Author: Zara Hemla (shutupmulder@yahoo.com)
Site: if.lightquencher.net
Fandom: All The Pretty Horses
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Somehow I have a feeling McCarthy
wouldn't approve. Sorry, man.
Summary: (Remix of "Tame" by s.a. For the
Silverlake Remix 2.)
They let Rawlins go just inside the door and he
slid to the floor and sat for a moment and then bent
slowly forward and to one side and sat holding
himself. The guard crooked his finger at John Grady
who sat squinting up at them in the sudden light. He
rose. He looked down at Rawlins.
You sons of bitches, he said.
Tell em whatever they want to hear, bud,
whispered Rawlins. It dont make a damn. (166)
--Broke--
A ranchers son ought to be used to hardship.
Ranching is nothing but hardship, day after day,
baking the sun under your skin until you feel as
dried out and flattened as the land itself. Then you
are the land, then you are truly home.
John Grady knows where his home is: was used to hard
living. He and Lacey spent hours sleeping rough,
eating almost nothing, pulling their hats down
against the sunset. But now he and Lacey are in
Saltillo, a place beyond hard living. Saltillo
chokes deeper than a hanging rope.
A few rats skitter in and out of the small holes in
the walls. There is no food for them, and the ones
that get food usually end up as food later. Lacey
and Grady havent started eating rats yet -- but they
get hungry enough, they just might. Grady tries not
to think about it but he knows that they have been
here three days and it might be years before they get
out, maybe forever. Don Héctor's fucked them over,
and no one's coming for them.
The reality of this hits hardest when Grady sees
Lacey trying for bravery in the courtyard, almost
afraid of his own shadow, all the fun and devilry
beat out of him. Grady fears that Lacey will never
be the same, will never recover. They beat him
before Saltillo and beat him for three days in
Saltillo and Lacey had taken it brave, but he wasnt
made for beating. Grady knows Laceys soft places,
and it seems like the Mexicans have found them all.
And now maybe Lacey is rotting from the inside, like
an apple where you cant hardly see the bruise.
He wants to reassure Lacey with touch but he cant.
No matter where they are, someone is watching. They
might get the wrong idea, might take action, and
Lacey dont need more action. Plus there is the way
Lacey looks at him now, hurt and angry and all for
him and the girl and asking mutely what the hell they
are doing here in Mexico anyway, whose fool idea was
it that they rode their horses down here. Grady
doesnt know how to break through the hurt. They lay
on their bunks and the silence settles over them
thicker than any feather quilt. It dont keep them
warm though.
At night coming on to dawn is the time when Blevins
appears most clearly to Grady. That pinche boy who
stole his own guns back but stripped scared of a
rainstorm. Couldnt of been more than thirteen, and
now he was lying in a ditch with his head blown off.
In these lucid dreams Grady sees the boy standing
barefoot far off in the desert, waving his arms and
calling something. Grady cant ever make it out and
he wakes in a cold sweat and lays there shaking until
the heat of daytime creeps in through the bars.
Often he looks over and sees Laceys set face and open
eyes but he doesnt say anything, he doesnt dare.
Saltillo has dried up all the words in him and all
that is left is a rage that wants to murder. Thats
why he dont mind getting beat, as long as he can give
a good beating in return. He figures he's earned
this payment from Don Héctor, since he loves the
girl. But he loves Lacey too, and Lacey dont deserve
this. Grady cant apologize, cant explain. He doesnt
talk and they sit in the courtyard and Grady stares
at the space between his planted boots.
The sun beats down on the top of his head. Lacey
sits a few feet away and picks at a lone piece of
grass that grew in the shade. Doesnt pull it out
though: some things need to survive.
You remember that time, says Lacey, that you broke
that horse of your dads?
Grady doesnt answer, squints fiercely down at his
boots. Lacey stops for a minute and then asks again.
Remember? That big damn horse your dad said he'd
beat you if you went near him.
Grady finally spits down into the dirt and lifts his
head to eye Lacey. I remember.
You got on that son of a bitch and he tossed you onto
your head. You busted it wide open. You was bleedin
and you said the world was spinnin around like a
merry go round.
Lacey, what the hell does that have to do with
anythin?
Your head was busted but you got back on that horse
and you broke him. That horse had no chance once you
set eyes on him. Lacey leans back and bangs his head
softly against the courtyard wall. Grady, horrified,
sees that he is about to cry.
Lacey, dont you cry no fuckin tears. What the hell
you thinkin?
Shit, Grady, says Lacey and closes his eyes. I cant
help it anymore. I'm that horse.
What?
I'm that horse, Grady. I been rode and rode by a son
of a bitch with a bloody head. And I'm tired and
sore and still he wont - let - me - be. Lacey shoves
his head down into his crooked elbow and his
shoulders shake.
Oh shit, mutters Grady, surveying the courtyard. The
heat has kept most everyone in the meager shade to
the right of them, and the prisoners are sitting
around smoking and playing their version of poker.
They arent looking now but they will be. Grady turns
on his friend and hisses at him.
Lacey shut the hell up, they'll see you.
He risks it then, puts his hand on Laceys shoulder,
feels the muscle jump under the worn prison denim.
Lacey please. Come on. I mean shit if I'd of known
you were gonna take on so about a stallion I'd of
left him in the corral.
That works: Lacey comes out of his crouch and stares
at him with wet eyes. Grady risks another look at
the group of men who are still intent on their cards.
Then he wipes away Laceys tears with his thumb.
Lacey closes his eyes again and his hand comes up and
clutches Gradys wrist.
You know it wasnt the horse I was worried about that
day.
Well I would hope it was me.
You were so white and you laid so still. I thought
you was gonna die and then what would I tell your
father?
Just tell him I'd meet him in hell. And to shoot the
stallion so's I could have something to ride down
there.
Think its funny, huh?
Grady drops his hand and Lacey drops his. They
resume staring at their respective boots.
Dammit, Lacey -- says Grady finally, talking to his
boots.
The dinner bell rings and Lacey painfully gets to his
feet. He watches Grady narrowly, most of the hurt
back in his eyes: the knowledge of the girl between
them.
I'm sorry too, he says, and walks away toward the
mess.
That night Grady finally hears what Blevins is saying
in the dream but it doesnt help. Get out, get out,
get away from Mexico, thats what the pinche boy is
yelling, and Grady tries to answer that its too late,
that its no use. He wakes shivering in the desert
chill and rolls over trying to find a bit of blanket.
Lacey is awake too but this time he's watching Grady.
He smiles crookedly and hunches himself down into his
own thin blanket. Grady has a sudden vivid memory of
that stallion he broke standing head down, blowing
and sweating and wore out and compliant at last. The
thought makes him slide out of bed and kneel by
Laceys cot.
You aint broke, he whispers, the rage in him so near
the surface. You aint broke, dont let no one tell
you different.
Maybe not yet, says Lacey, but I will be.
You wont, says John Grady, I wont let you, and he
puts a hand on Laceys chest where his undershirt
meets his collarbone and feels his heart beating
strong. Lacey does the same to him and they put
their foreheads together and Lacey kisses him slowly
twice and he kisses Lacey back.
Dont break and I wont, whispers Lacey against his
mouth.
We wont break, says John Grady back to him, feeling
Laceys inaudible sigh. We aint horses, we're Texans.
Let em try.
--end--
Notes: If you got through this but are still
wondering what the hell I was doing -- I took this
story in part to play with the conventions that
McCarthy uses in his novel.
In fact, if you wanted a book setting, it would be
top of page 187 (trade paperback), between the time
where Lacey says, "They could kill us any time" and
John Grady says, "I know," and the two days later
that Pérez calls them up to his "office." If you
haven't read the book, please do, it's wonderful.
In the book, John Grady goes by "John Grady," but
s.a. calls him "Grady," and so that's what I'm doing.