"Didn't I find the prodigal?" "You found him," Call said. "I bet he wasn't in church, either." Deets had a laugh at that. "No, sir," he said. "Not in church." Jake was introduced to Dish Boggett, but once he shook hands he turned and had another look at Newt as if the fact that he was nearly grown surprised him more than anything else in Lonesome Dove.
"I swear, Jake," Augustus said, looking at the bay horse, "you've rode that horse right down to the bone." "Give him a good feed, Deets," Call said. "I judge it's been a while since he's had one." Deets led the horses off toward the roofless barn. It was true that he made his pants out of old quilts, for reasons that no one could get him to explain. Colorful as they were, quilts weren't the best material for riding through mesquite and chaparral. Thorns had snagged the pants in several places, and cotton ticking was sticking out. For headgear Deets wore an old cavalry cap he had found somewhere--it was in nearly as bad shape as Lippy's bowler.
"Didn't he have that cap when I left?" Jake asked. He took his own hat off and slapped the dust off his pants leg with it. He had curly black hair, but Newt saw to his surprise that there was a sizable bald spot on the top of his head.
"He found that cap in the fifties, to the best of my recollection," Augustus said. "You know Deets is like me--he's not one to quit on a garment just because it's got a little age. We can't all be fine dressers like you, Jake." Jake turned his coffee eyes on Augustus and broke out another slow grin. "What'd it take to get you to whip up another batch of them biscuits?" he said. "I've come all the way from Arkansas without tasting a good bite of bread." "From the looks of that pony it's been fast traveling," Call said, which was as close to prying as he intended to get. He had run with Jake Spoon off and on for twenty years, and liked him well; but the man had always worried him a little, underneath. There was no more likable man in the west, and no better rider, either; but riding wasn't everything, and neither was likableness. Something in Jake didn't quite stick. Something wasn't quite consistent.
He could be the coolest man in the company in one fight, and in the next be practically worthless.
Augustus knew it too. He was a great sponsor of Jake's and had stayed fond of him although for years they were rivals for Clara Allen, who eventually showed them both the door.
But Augustus felt, with Call, that Jake wasn't long on backbone. When he left the Rangers Augustus said more than once that he would probably end up hung. So far that hadn't happened, but riding up at breakfast time on a gant horse was an indication of trouble. Jake prided himself on pretty horses, and would never ride a horse as hard as the bay had been ridden if trouble wasn't somewhere behind him.
Jake saw Bolivar coming from the old cistern with a bucketful of water. Bolivar was a new face, and one that had no interest in his homecoming.
A little cool water sloshed over the edges of the bucket, looking very good to a man with a mouth as dusty as Jake's.
"Boys, I'd like a drink and maybe even a wash, if you can spare one," he said. "My luck's been running kinda muddy lately, but I'd like to get water enough in me that I can at least spit before I tell you about it." "Why, sure," Augustus said. "Go fill the dipper. You want us to stay out here and hold off the posse?" "There ain't no posse," Jake said, going in the house.
Dish Boggett felt somewhat at a loss.
He had been all ready to hire on, and then this new man rode up and everyone had sort of forgotten him. Captain Call, a man known for being all business, seemed a little distracted. He and Gus just stood there as if they expected a posse despite what Jake Spoon had said.
Newt noticed it too. Mr. Gus ought to go in and cook Jake some biscuits, but he just stood there, thinking about something, evidently.
Deets was on his way back from the lots.
Dish finally spoke up. "Captain, like I said, I'd be glad to wait if you have some plans to make up a herd," he said.
The Captain looked at him strangely, as if he might have forgotten his name, much less what he was doing there. But it wasn't the case.
"Why, yes, Dish," he said. "We might be needing some hands, if you don't mind doing some well-digging while you wait. Pea, you best get these boys started." Dish was almost ready to back out then and there. He had drawn top wages for the last two years without being asked to do anything that couldn't be done from a horse. It was insensitive of the Captain to think that he could just order him off, with a boy and an old idiot like Pea Eye, to wrestle a spade and crowbar all day. It scratched his pride, and he had a notion to go get his horse and let them keep their well-digging. But the Captain was looking at him hard, and when Dish looked up to say he had changed his mind, their eyes met and Dish didn't say it. There had been no real promises made, much less talk of wages, but somehow Dish had taken one step too far. The Captain was looking at him eye to eye, as if to see if he was going to stand by his own words or if he meant to wiggle like a fish and change his mind. Dish had only offered to stay because of Lorie, but suddenly it had all gotten beyond her. Pea and Newt were already walking toward the barn. It was clear from the Captain's attitude that unless he wanted to lose all reputation, he had trapped himself into at least one day's well-digging.
It seemed to him he ought to at least say something to salvage a little pride, but before he could think of anything Gus came over and clapped him on the shoulder.
"You should have rode on last night, Dish," he said with an irritating grin. "You may never see the last of this outfit now." "Well, you was the one that invited me," Dish said, highly annoyed. Since there was no help for it short of disgrace, he started for the lots.
"If you come to Chiny you can stop digging," Augustus called after him. "That's the place where the men wear pigtails." "I wouldn't ride him if I were you," Call said. "We may need him." "I didn't send him off to dig no well," Augustus said. "Don't you know that's an insult to his dignity? I'm surprised he went. I thought Dish had more grit." "He said he'd stay," Call said. "I ain't feeding him three times a day to sit around and play cards with you." "No need to now," Augustus said. "I got Jake for that. I bet you don't get Jake down in your well." At that moment Jake stepped out on the back porch, his sleeves rolled up and his face red from the scrubbing he had given it with the old piece of sacking they used for a towel.
"That old pistolero's been cleaning his gun on this towel," Jake said. "It's filthy dirty." "If it's just his six-shooter he's cleaning on it you oughtn't to complain," Augustus said. "There's worse things he could wipe on it." "Hell, don't you men ever wash?" Jake asked. "That old Mex didn't even want to give me a pan of water." It was the kind of remark Call had no patience with, but that was Jake, more interested in fancy arrangements than in the more important matters.
"Once you left, our standards slipped," Augustus said. "The majority of this outfit ain't interested in refinements." "That's plain," Jake said. "There's a damn pig on the back porch. What about them biscuits?" "Much as I've missed you, I ain't overworking my sourdough just because you and Deets couldn't manage to get here in time," Augustus said. "What I will do is fry some meat." He fried it, and Jake and Deets ate it, while Bolivar sat in the corner and sulked at the thought of two more breakfasts to wash up after. It amused Augustus to watch Jake eat--he was so fastidious about it--but the sight put Call into a black fidget. Jake could spend twenty minutes picking at some eggs and a bit of bacon.
It was obvious to Augustus that Call was trying to be polite and let Jake get some food in his belly before he told his story, but Call was not a patient man and had already controlled his urge to get to work longer than was usual. He stood in the door, watching the whitening sky and looking restless enough to bite himself.
"So where have you been, Jake?" Augustus asked, to speed things up.
Jake looked thoughtful, as he almost always did.
His coffee-colored eyes always seemed to be traveling leisurely over scenes from his own past, and they gave the impression that he was a man of sorrows--an impression very appealing to the ladies. It disgusted Augustus
a little that ladies were so taken in by Jake's big eyes.
In fact, Jake Spoon had had a perfectly easy life, doing mostly just what he pleased and keeping his boots clean; what his big eyes concealed was a slow-working brain. Basically Jake just dreamed his way through life and somehow got by with it.
"Oh, I've been seeing the country," he said. "I was up to Montana two years ago.
I guess that's what made me decide to come back, although I've been meaning to get back down this way and see you boys for some years." Call came back in the room and straddled a chair, figuring he might as well hear it.
"What's Montana got to do with us?" he asked.
"Why, Call, you ought to see it," Jake said.
"A prettier country never was." "How far'd you go?" Augustus asked.
"Way up, past the Yellowstone," Jake said. "I was near to the Milk River. You can smell Canady from there." "I bet you can smell Indians too," Call said. "How'd you get past the Cheyenne?" "They shipped most of them out," Jake said.
"Some of the Blackfeet are still troublesome. But I was with the Army, doing a little scouting." That hardly made sense. Jake Spoon might scout his way across a card table, but Montana was something else.
"When'd you take to scouting?" Call asked dryly.
"Oh, I was just with a feller taking some beef to the Blackfeet," Jake said. "The Army came along to help." "A lot of damn help the Army would be, driving beef," Gus said.
"They helped us keep our hair," Jake said, laying his knife and fork across his plate as neatly as if he were eating at a fancy table.
"My main job was to skeer the buffalo out of the way," he said.
"Buffalo," Augustus said. "I thought they was about gone." "Pshaw," Jake said. "I must have seen fifty thousand up above the Yellowstone. The damn buffalo hunters ain't got the guts to take on them Indians. Oh, they'll finish them, once the Cheyenne and the Sioux finally cave in, and they may have even since I left. The damn Indians have the grass of Montana all to themselves. And has it got grass. Call, you ought to see it." "I'd go today if I could fly," Call said.
"Be safer to walk," Augustus said. "By the time we walked up there maybe they would have licked the Indians." "That's just it, boys," Jake said. "The minute they're licked there's going to be fortunes made in Montana. Why, it's cattle land like you've never seen, Call. High grass and plenty of water." "Chilly, though, ain't it?" Augustus asked.
"Oh, it's got weather," Jake said.
"Hell, a man can wear a coat." "Better yet, a man can stay inside," Augustus said.
"I've yet to see a fortune made inside," Call said. "Except by a banker, and we ain't bankers. What did you have in mind, Jake?" "Getting to it first," Jake said. "Round up some of these free cattle and take 'em on up.
Beat all the other sons of bitches, and we'd soon be rich." Augustus and Call exchanged looks. It was odd talk to be hearing from Jake Spoon, who had never been known for his ambition--much less for a fondness for cows. Pretty whores, pacing horses and lots of clean shirts had been his main requirements in life.
"Why, Jake, what reformed you?" Gus asked. "You was never a man to hanker after fortune." "Living with the cows from here to Montana would mean a change in your habits, if I remember them right," Call said.
Jake grinned his slow grin. "You boys," he said. "You got me down for lazier than I am.
I ain't no lover of cow shit and trail dust, I admit, but I've seen something that you haven't seen: Montana. Just because I like to play cards don't mean I can't smell an opportunity when one's right under my nose. Why, you boys ain't even got a barn with a roof on it. I doubt it would bust you to move." "Jake, if you ain't something," Augustus said. "Here we ain't seen hide nor hair of you for ten years and now you come riding in and want us to pack up and go north to get scalped." "Well, Gus, me and Call are going bald anyway," Jake said. "You're the only one whose hair they'd want." "All the more reason not to carry it to a hostile land," Augustus said. "Why don't you just calm down and play cards with me for a few days? Then when I've won all your money we'll talk about going places." Jake whittled down a match and began to meticulously pick his teeth.
"By the time you clean me, Montana will be all settled up," he said. "I don't clean quick." "What about that horse?" Call asked. "You didn't gant him like that just so you could get here and help us beat the rush to Montana. What's this about your luck running thick?" Jake looked a little more sorrowful as he picked his teeth. "Kilt a dentist," he said.
"A pure accident, but I kilt him." "Where'd this happen?" Call asked.
"Fort Smith, Arkansas," Jake said. "Not three weeks ago." "Well, I've always considered dentistry a dangerous profession," Augustus said. "Making a living by yanking people's teeth out is asking for trouble." "He wasn't even pulling my tooth," Jake said. "I didn't even know there was a dentist in the town. I got in a little argument in a saloon and a damn mule skinner threw down on me. Somebody's old buffalo rifle was leaning against the wall right by me and that's what I went for.
Hell, I was sitting on my own pistol--I never wouldn't have got to it in time. I wasn't even playin' cards with the mule skinner." "What riled him then?" Gus asked.
"Whiskey," Jake said. "He was bull drunk. Before I even noticed, he took a dislike to my dress and pulled his Colt." "Well, I don't know what took you to Arkansas in the first place, Jake," Augustus said. "A fancy dresser like yourself is bound to excite comment in them parts." Call had found, over the years, that it only did to believe half of what Jake said. Jake was not a bald liar, but once he thought over a scrape, his imagination sort of worked on it and shaded it in his own favor.
"If the man pointed a gun at you and you shot him, then that was self-defense," Call said. "I still don't see where the dentist comes in." "It was bad luck all around," Jake said.
"I never even shot the mule skinner.
I did shoot, but I missed, which was enough to scare him off. But of course I shot that dern buffalo gun. It was just a little plank saloon we were sitting in. A plank won't stop a fifty-caliber bullet." "Neither will a dentist," Augustus observed.
"Not unless you shoot down on him from the top, and even then I expect the bullet would come out his foot." Call shook his head--Augustus could think of the damnedest things.
"So where was the dentist?" he asked.
"Walking along on the other side of the street," Jake said. "They got big wide streets in that town, too." "But not wide enough, I guess," Call said.
"Nope," Jake said. "We went to the door to watch the mule skinner run off and saw the dentist laying over there dead, fifty yards away. He had managed to get in the exact wrong spot." "Pea done the same thing once," Augustus said. "Remember, Woodrow? Up in the Wichita country? Pea shot at a wolf and missed and the bullet went over a hill and kilt one of our horses." "I won't forget that," Call said. "It was little Billy it killed. I hated to lose that horse." "Of course we couldn't convince Pea he'd done it," Augustus said. "He don't understand trajectory." "Well, I understand it," Jake said.
"Everybody in town liked that dentist." "Aw, Jake, that won't stick," Augustus said. "Nobody really likes dentists." "This one was the mayor," Jake said.
"Well, it was accidental death," Call said.
"Yeah, but I'm just a gambler," Jake said.
"They all like to think they're respectable back in Arkansas. Besides, the dentist's brother was the sheriff, and somebody told him I was a gunfighter. He invited me to leave town a week before it happened." Call sighed. All the gunfighter business went back to one lucky shot Jake had made when he was a mere boy starting out in the Rangers.
It was funny how one shot could make a man's reputation like that. It was a hip shot Jake made because he was scared, and it killed a Mexican bandit who was riding toward them on a dead run. It was Call's opinion, and Augustus's too, that Jake hadn't even been shooting at the bandit--he was probably shooting in hopes of bringing down the horse, which might have fallen on the bandit and crippled him a little. But Jake shot blind from
the hip, with the sun in his eyes to boot, and hit the bandit right in the Adam's apple, a thing not likely to occur more than once in a lifetime, if that often.
But it was Jake's luck that most of the men who saw him make the shot were raw boys too, with not enough judgment to appreciate how lucky a thing it was. Those that survived and grew up told the story all across the West, so there was hardly a man from the Mexican border to Canada who hadn't heard what a dead pistol shot Jake Spoon was, though any man who had fought with him through the years would know he was no shot at all with a pistol and only a fair shot with a rifle.
Call and Augustus had always worried about Jake because of his unearned reputation, but he was a lucky fellow and there were not many men around dumb enough to enjoy pistol fights, so Jake managed to get by. It was ironic that the shot which finally got him in trouble was as big an accident as the shot that had made his fame.
"How'd you get loose from the sheriff?" Call asked.
"He was gone when it happened," Jake said.
Larry McMurtry - Lonesome Dove Page 8