The Insufferable Gaucho Read Online Free PDF Page A

him
beforehand that he was to do strictly that: strum, without playing any song in
particular, in accordance with the country way.
    Campodónico and José were dispatched to fetch ten liters of wine and a
liter of eau-de-vie, which they brought back from Capitán Jourdan in the mayor’s
van. A good supply of rabbits was laid in, and one was roasted for each person
present, although the the meat didn’t seem to find much favor with the visitors
from the city. That night there were more than thirty people gathered around the
fire, besides Pereda’s gauchos and his guests from Buenos Aires. Before the
party began, Pereda announced that he didn’t want any fighting or unruly
behavior, which was quite unnecessary, since the locals were peace-loving people
who had to steel themselves to kill rabbits. All the same, the lawyer considered
setting aside one of the multitudinous rooms so that people could lay down their
knives, large and small, before taking part in the festivities, but on
reflection he decided that such a measure really would be a little
excessive.
    By three in the morning the elders had set off back to Capitán
Jourdan, and there were just a few young men left at the ranch, wondering what
to do, since the food and drink had run out, and the guys from the city had
already turned in. The next morning Bebe tried to convince his father to return
to Buenos Aires with him. Things are gradually settling down, he said;
personally he was doing all right. He gave his father a book, one of the many
gifts he had brought, and told him that it had been published in Spain. Now I’m
known throughout Latin America, he explained. But the lawyer had no idea what
his son was talking about. He asked if he was married yet, and when Bebe said
no, suggested he find himself an Indian woman and come to live at Alamo
Negro.
    An Indian woman, Bebe repeated in a tone of voice that struck the
lawyer as wistful.
    Among the gifts his son had brought was a Beretta 92 pistol with two
clips and a box of ammunition. The lawyer looked at the pistol in amazement. Do
you honestly think I’m going to need it? he asked. You never know. You’re really
on your own here, said Bebe. Later that morning they saddled up the mare for
Ibarrola, who wanted to take a look at the countryside; Pereda accompanied him
on José Bianco. For two hours, the publisher held forth in praise of the
idyllic, unspoiled life, as he saw it, enjoyed by the inhabitants of Capitán
Jourdan. When he spotted the first of the ruined houses, he broke into a gallop,
but it was much further away than he had thought, and before he got there, a
rabbit leaped up and bit him on the neck. The publisher’s cry vanished at once
into the vast open space.
    From where he was, all Pereda saw was a dark shape springing from the
ground, tracing an arc toward the publisher’s head, and then disappearing.
Dumb-ass Basque, he thought. He spurred José Bianco, and, approaching Ibarrola,
saw that he was holding his neck with one hand and covering his face with the
other. Without saying a word, Pereda removed the hand from Ibarrola’s neck.
There was a bleeding scratch under his ear. Pereda asked him if he had a
handkerchief. The publisher replied in the affirmative, and only then did Pereda
realize that he was crying. Put the handkerchief on the wound, he said. Then he
took the mare’s reins and they made their way to the ruined house. There was no
one there; they didn’t dismount. As they returned to the ranch, the handkerchief
that Ibarrola was holding against the wound gradually turned red. They said
nothing. When they got back, Pereda ordered his gauchos to strip the publisher
to the waist, and they flung him onto a table in the yard. Pereda washed the
wound, which he proceeded to cauterize with a knife heated until the blade was
red-hot, then made a dressing with another handkerchief, held in place with a
makeshift bandage: one of his old shirts, which he soaked in eau-de-vie, what
little was