Jake Spoon wasn't as talkative as Gus, but he was just as immodest. He sat happily in the tub until the water got cold.
He even asked if she'd like to give him a haircut. She didn't mind trying, but quickly saw that she was making a mess of it and stopped with only a small portion of his curly black hair removed.
Once he toweled himself off he turned and led her to the bed. He stopped before he got there and looked as though he was going to offer her money.
Lorena had wondered if he would, and when he stopped, she turned quickly so he could undo the long row of buttons down the back of her dress. She felt impatient--not for the act, but for Jake to go ahead and assume responsibility for her. She had never supposed that she would want such a thing from a man, but she was not bothered by the fact that she had changed her mind in the space of an hour, or that she was a little drunk when she changed it. She felt confident that Jake Spoon would get her out of Lonesome Dove, and she didn't intend to allow money to pass between them --or anything else that might cause him to leave without her.
Jake immediately stepped over and helped her undo the buttons. It was plain she wasn't the first woman he had undressed, because he even knew how to unhook the dress at the neck, something most of her customers would never have thought of.
"You've had this one awhile, I reckon," he said, looking rather critically at the dress once he got it off her.
That, too, surprised her, for no man had ever commented, favorably or unfavorably, upon her clothes--not even Tinkersley, who had given her the money to buy the very dress Jake was holding, just a cheap cotton dress which was fraying at the collar. Lorena felt a touch of shame that a man would notice the fraying. She had often meant to make a new dress or two--that being the only way to get one, in Lonesome Dove--but she was awkward with a needle and was still getting by on the dresses she had bought in San Antonio.
In the months there she had had several offers to go to San Antonio with men who would probably have bought her dresses, but she had always declined.
San Antonio was in the wrong direction, she hadn't liked any of the men, and anyway didn't really need new dresses, since she was attracting more business than she wanted just wearing the old ones.
Jake's comment had been mildly made, but it threw Lorena slightly off. She realized he was a finicky man--she could not get away with being lazy about herself, any longer. A man who noticed a frayed collar with a near-naked woman standing right in front of him was a new kind of man to Lorena--one who would soon notice other things, some perhaps more serious than a collar. She felt disheartened; some glow had seeped from the moment.
Probably he had already been to San Francisco and seen finer women than her. Perhaps when it came time to leave he wouldn't want to bother with someone so ill-dressed. Perhaps the surprise that had walked into her life would simply walk back out of it.
But her sinking confidence was only momentary.
Jake put the dress aside, watched her draw her shift off over her head, and sat beside her when she lay down. He was perfectly at ease.
"Well, Lorie, you take the prize," he said. "I had not a hope of being this lucky when I headed back here. Why, you're as fine as flowers." When he began to stroke her she noticed that his hands were like a woman's, his fingers small and his fingernails clean. Tinkersley had had clean fingernails, but Jake wasn't arrogant like Tinkersley, and he gave the impression of having nothing but time. Most men crawled on top of her at once, but Jake just sat on the bed, smiling at her. When he smiled, her confidence returned. With most men, there was a moment when they moved their eyes away. But Jake kept looking at her, right in the eye. He looked at her so long that she began to feel shy. She felt more naked than she had ever felt, and when he bent to kiss her, she flinched. She did not like kissing, but Jake merely grinned when she flinched, as if her shyness was funny. His breath was as clean as his hands. Many a sour breath had ruffled her hair and affronted her nostrils, but Jake's was neither rank nor sour. It had a clean cedary flavor to it.
When it was over, Jake took a nap, and instead of getting up and dressing, Lorie lay with him, thinking. She thought of San Francisco, and just thinking about it made her think that she could do anything. She didn't even feel like moving to wipe the sheets. Let them be. She would be going soon, and Xavier could burn them for all she cared.
When Jake woke he looked at her and grinned, and his hand, warm now, went right back to work.
"If I ain't careful I'm apt to sprout up again," he said.
Lorena wanted to ask him why his breath smelled like cedar but she didn't know if she ought, since he had just come to town. But then she asked him, a little shocked at hearing her own voice make the question.
"Why, I passed a cedar grove and cut myself some toothpicks," Jake said. "There's nothing that sweetens the breath like a cedar toothpick, unless it's mint, and mint don't grow in these parts." Then he kissed her again, as if to make her a present of his sweet breath. Between kisses he talked to her about San Francisco, and what might be the best route to take. Even after he slid between her legs again and made the old bedspring whine and the sorry mattress crackle, he kept talking a little.
When he finally got up and stretched and suggested they go downstairs, Lorena felt more cheerful than she had for years. Xavier and Lippy, who were used to her long sulks, hardly knew what to think. Neither did Dish Boggett, who happened to walk in. Dish sat down and drank a bottle of whiskey before anybody noticed. Then he got to singing, and everybody laughed at him. Lorena laughed as loud as Lippy, whose lip waved like a flag when he was amused.
Only later, when Jake left to ride south with Captain Call, did Lorena feel impatient. She wanted Jake to come back. The time with him had been so relaxed it almost seemed like a wakeful dream of some kind. She wanted to have the dream again.
That night, when a skinny cowboy named Jasper Fant came in from the river and approached her, Lorie just stared at him silently until he got embarrassed and backed off, never having actually said a word. Staring was all she had to do.
Jasper consulted with Lippy and Xavier, and by the end of the week, all the cowboys along the river knew that the only sporting woman in Lonesome Dove had abruptly given up the sport.
When Jake finally came ambling up to the house, having spent the better part of the day asleep in Lorena's bed, Augustus was already nuzzling his jug from time to time. He was sitting on the front porch, waving off flies and watching the two Irishmen, who were sleeping as if dead under the nearest wagon. They had gone to sleep in the wagon's meager shade; the shade had moved, but not the Irishmen. The boy had no hat. He slept with his arm across his face. Jake didn't even glance at them as he walked past, a fact Augustus noted. Jake had never been renowned for his interest in people unless the people were whores.
"Where's Call?" Jake asked when he got to the porch.
"You didn't expect to find Woodrow Call sitting in the shade, did you?" Augustus asked.
"That man was born to work." "Yes, and you was born to talk too much," Jake said. "I need to borrow ten dollars." "Oh?" Augustus said. "Has Lorie upped her rates?" Jake ignored the question, which was only meant to rile him, and reached for the jug.
"No, the girl's as generous as a preacher's widow," Jake said. "She wouldn't take money from a gentleman like me. I hope she charged you plenty, though, for I know you've been there before me." "I've always tried to keep a step ahead of you, Jake," Augustus said. "But to answer your question, Call's gone to round up a dern bunch of cowboys so we can head out for Montana with a dern bunch of cows and suffer for the rest of our lives." "Well, dern," Jake said. "I admit I was a fool to mention it." He settled himself on the lower step and set the jug halfway between them so they could both reach it.
He was mildly chagrined that Call had left before he could borrow the money--extracting money from Augustus had always been a long and wearisome business. Call was easier when it came to money --he didn't like to lend it, but he would rather lend it than talk a
bout it, whereas Augustus would rather talk than do anything.
Also, it was bothersome that Call had seized on the idea of Montana so abruptly, though it had always been his view that if you could just hit Call with the right idea, he would apply his energies and make a fortune, which he might then share with the man who brought along the idea.
Now that he was back, though, he wouldn't mind spending a few warm idle months in Lonesome Dove. Lorie was more of a beauty than he had expected to find. Her room over the saloon wasn't much, but it was better accommodation than they could expect on the way to Montana.
As usual, though, life moved faster than he had intended it to. Call would come back with a lot of cowboys and he would practically have to marry Lorie in order to get out of going up the trail.
Then, if he did set his foot down and stay in Lonesome Dove, who knew but what some lawman from Fort Smith would show up and drag him off to hang? Just as he had been in the mood to slow down, his own loose mouth had gotten him in trouble.
"Maybe he won't find no cattle to drive, or no hands, neither," he suggested, knowing it was wishful thinking.
"He'll find the cattle, and if he can't find the hands he'll drive 'em himself," Augustus said. "And make us help him." Jake tipped his hat back and said nothing. The blue shoat wandered around the corner of the house and stood there looking at him, which for some reason Jake found peculiarly irritating. Gus and his pig were aggravating company.
"I ought to shoot that pig right betwixt the eyes," he said, feeling more irritable the longer he sat. There was not much good in anything that he could see. Either it was back to Montana and probably get scalped, or stay in Texas and probably get hung. And if he wasn't careful the girl would get restless and actually expect him to take her to San Francisco. The main problem with women was that they were always wanting something like San Francisco, and once they began to expect it they would get testy if it didn't happen. They didn't understand that he talked of pleasant things and faraway places just to create a happy prospect that they could look forward to for a while.
It wasn't meant to really happen, and yet women never seemed to grasp that; he had been in ticklish spots several times as their disappointment turned to anger. It was something, how mad women could get.
"Was you ever threatened by a woman, Gus?" he asked, thinking about it.
"No, not what you'd call threatened," Augustus said. "I was hit with a stove lid once or twice." "Why?" Jake asked.
"Why, no reason," Augustus said. "If you live with Mexicans you can expect to eat beans, sooner or later." "Who said anything about Mexicans?" Jake said, a little exasperated. Gus was the derndest talker.
Augustus chuckled. "You was always slow to see the pint, Jake," he said. "If you fool with women you'll get hit by a stove lid, sooner or later, whereas if you live with Mexicans you have to expect beans in your diet." "I'd like to see a woman that can hit me with a stove lid," Jake said. "I will take an insult once in a while, but I'd be damned if I'd take that." "Lorie's apt to hit you with worse if you try to wiggle out of taking her to San Francisco," Augustus said, delighted that an opportunity had arisen to catch Jake out so early in his visit.
Jake let that one float. Of course Gus would know all about the girl. Not that it took brains to know about women: they spread their secrets around like honey in a flytrap. Of course Lorie would want to go to San Francisco, by common agreement the prettiest town in the west.
Augustus stood up and lifted his big pistol off the back of his chair. "I guess we ought to wake up them Irishmen before they bake," he said. He walked over and kicked at their feet for a while until they began to stir. Finally Allen O'Brien sat up, looking groggy.
"Lord, it's warm, ain't it?" he said.
"Why, this is spring, son," Augustus remarked. "If you're looking for warm come back on the Fourth of July. We usually thaw out by then." When he was sure both Irishmen were awake he went back to the house and came out with his rifle.
"Well, let's go," he said to Jake.
"Go where?" Jake asked. "I just got set down." "To hide them horses," Augustus said.
"Pedro Flores is no quitter. He'll be coming." Jake felt sour. He wished again that circumstances hadn't prompted him to come back.
He had already spent one full night on horseback, and now the boys were expecting him to spend another, all on account of a bunch of livestock he had no interest in in the first place.
"I don't know as I'm coming," he said. "I just got here. If I'd known you boys did nothing but chouse horses around all night, I don't know that I would have come." "Why, Jake, you lazy bean," Augustus said, and walked off. Jake had a stubborn streak in him, and once it was activated even Call could seldom do much with him. The Irish boy was standing up, trying to get the sleep out of his eyes.
"Come on, boys," Augustus said. "Time to ride the river." "You want us to ride some more?" Sean asked.
He had rolled over during his nap and had grass burrs in his shirt.
"You'll soon catch on to riding," Augustus said. "It's easier than you might think." "Do you have any mules?" Sean asked. "I'm better at riding mules." "Son, we're fresh out," Augustus said.
"Can either of you boys shoot?" "No, but we can dig potatoes," Allen said --he didn't want the man to think they were totally incompetent.
"You boys took the wrong ship," Augustus said. "I doubt there's ten spuds in this whole county." He caught them the gentlest horses out of the small bunch that were still penned, and taught them how to adjust their stirrups so their feet wouldn't dangle--he hadn't had time for that refinement in Sabinas. Just then Jake came walking along, a Winchester in the crook of his arm. No doubt he had concluded it would be easier to stay up all night than to explain to Call why he hadn't.
Soon the Irishmen were mounted and were cautiously walking their mounts around the pen.
"It's new to them but they're a quick-witted race," Augustus said. "Give 'em a week and they'll be ridin' like Comanches." "I don't know that I'll pause a week," Jake said. "You boys have got hard to tolerate.
I might take that yellow-haired gal and mosey off to California." "Jake, you're a dern grasshopper," Augustus said. "You ride in yesterday talking Montana, and today you're talking California." Once the Irishmen had got fairly competent at mounting and dismounting, Augustus gave them each a Winchester and made them shoot at a cactus a time or two.
"You've got to learn sometime," he said. "If you can learn to ride and shoot before Captain Call gets back, he might hire you." The O'Brien boys were so awed to find themselves with deadly weapons in their hands that they immediately forgot to be nervous about their horses. Sean had never held a gun before, and the flat crack of the bullet when he shot at the cactus was frightening. It occurred to him that if they were expected to shoot, they could also expect to be shot at--an unappealing thought.
"Do we ask their names before we shoot them?" he inquired.
"It ain't necessary," Augustus assured him.
"Most of them are named Jesus anyway." "Well, I ain't named Jesus," Jake said. "You boys try not to do your learning in my direction. I've been known to get riled when I'm shot at." When the two Irishmen came trotting up to the horse herd behind Augustus and Jake, Dish Boggett could hardly believe his eyes. He had always heard that the Hat Creek outfit was peculiar, but arming men who didn't even know how to dismount from their horses was not so much peculiar as insane.
Augustus took the lead on a big white horse named Pu.in' Foot, and Jake Spoon followed him. Jake looked sour as clabber, which suited Dish fine. Maybe Lorena hadn't fallen quite in love with him, after all.
Dish rode over and poked Newt, who was asleep on his horse. Dish himself had napped from time to time, the day being hot and the horse herd placid.
"You ought to see what's coming," he said. "Gus has put them dern midgets a-horseback." Newt had a hard time getting his eyes open.
As soon as the chase was over, sleep had begun trying to pull him down. If Pedro Flores had ridden u
p and offered to shoot him he didn't think he would much care, since it would at least mean more sleep. He knew cowboys were supposed to be able to stay in the saddle two or three days at a stretch without sleep, but he was guiltily aware that he had not yet learned the trick. When Dish poked him, his hat fell off, and when he got down to get it his legs felt as heavy as if somebody had put lead in his boots. He would have liked to say something to Sean O'Brien, who looked as tired as he was, but he couldn't think of a word to say.
Augustus, who had had no chance to examine Call's big catch, rode into the herd and eased through to the other side, where Deets and Pea were waiting. He took his time about it, giving the animals a critical inspection as he went past. Not more than forty of them struck him as prime mounts. A lot were undersized, some had saddle sores, and the whole bunch of them were skinny from overwork or underfeeding, or probably no feeding. Except for a prize stud or two, Pedro Flores had probably never wasted an oat on a horse in his life.
Larry McMurtry - Lonesome Dove Page 19