Larry McMurtry - Lonesome Dove

by Lonesome Dove

  "Yep, that's a big tribe of sage bushes," he would say.

  Pea, particularly, stood in awe of Augustus's vision, his own being notably weak.

  Sometimes on a hunt Augustus would try in vain to show Pea Eye an antelope or a deer.

  "I might could see it if we could get closer," Pea would say.

  "Pea, I don't know what keeps you from riding off a cliff," Augustus responded.

  "If we get closer the animal will just get farther." "Let's hire Lorie to cook," Augustus said.

  "Let's don't," Call said. "Bring her into that camp and there'd be fights ever day, even if she was a decent woman." "I don't know why you're so down on whores, Woodrow," Augustus said. "You had yours, as I remember." "Yes, that was my mistake," Call said, annoyed that Gus would bring it up.

  "It ain't a mistake to behave like a human being once in a while," Augustus said. "Poor Maggie got her heart broke, but she gave you a fine son before she quit." "You don't know that and I don't want to talk about it," Call said. "He could be yours, or Jake's, or some damn gambler's." "Yes, but he ain't, he's yours," Augustus said. "Anybody with a good eye can see it. Besides, Maggie told me. She and I were good friends." "I don't know about friends," Call said.

  "I'm sure you were a good customer." "The two can overlap," Augustus pointed out, well aware that his friend was not happy to have such a subject broached. Call had been secretive about it when it was happening and had been even more secretive about it since.

  When they rode into the little camp, Lorena was sitting under the tree, quietly watching them. She had evidently just bathed in the pool, for her long blond hair was wet. Once in a while she squeezed water off a strand with her fingers. She had a bruise below one eye.

  "'I god, Lorie, it looks like an easy life," Augustus said. "You got your own swimming hole. Where's Jake?" "He went to town," Lorena said. "He's done been gone two days." "Must be in a good game," Augustus said.

  "Jake will play for a week if he's ahead." Call thought it was unconscionable to leave any woman alone that long in such rough country.

  "When do you expect him back?" he asked.

  "He said he wasn't coming back," Lorena said. "He left mad. He's been mad the whole way up here. He said I could have the horse and the mule and go where I pleased." "I doubt he meant it," Augustus said.

  "What do you think?" "He'll be back," Lorena said.

  Call was not so sure. Jake had never been one to load himself with responsibilities unnecessarily.

  To his annoyance, Gus got down and hitched his horse to a bush. Then he unsaddled.

  "I thought you was going to Austin," Call said.

  "Woodrow, you go," Augustus said. "I ain't in the mood for city life just now. I'll stay here and play cards with Lorie until that scamp shows up." Call was very annoyed. One of Gus's worst traits was an inability to stick to a plan.

  Call might spend all night working out a strategy, and Augustus might go along with it for ten minutes and then lose patience and just do whatever came into his mind. Of course, going into town to hire a cook was no great project, but it was still irritating that Gus would just drop off. But Call knew it was pointless to argue.

  "Well, I hope you get back to the herd tonight, in case I'm late," he said. "There should be somebody with some experience around." "Oh, I don't know," Augustus said.

  "It's time that outfit got a little practice in doing without us. They probably think the sun won't come up unless you're there to allow it." Rather than re-argue yet another old argument, Call turned the Hell Bitch. Even experienced men were apt to flounder badly in crises if they lacked leadership. He had seen highly competent men stand as if paralyzed in a crisis, though once someone took command and told them what to do they might perform splendidly. A loose group like the Hat Creek outfit wouldn't even know how to decide who was to decide, if both he and Gus were gone.

  He put the Hell Bitch into a lope--it was a pleasure to watch the easy way the mare ate up the miles. With such a horse under him he could soon forget most of his vexations.

  Then, for no reason, between one stride and the next, the Hell Bitch suddenly rolled out of her easy gait into a flying buck. Call was riding along relaxed and, before he could even jerk her head up, he lost a stirrup and knew he was thrown. Well, goddamn you, you finally got me, he thought, and a second later was on the ground. But he had taken a wrap around his hand with one rein and held on, hoping the rein wouldn't snap. The rein held, and Call got to his feet and caught the other rein.

  "Well, your little plan failed," he said to the mare. He knew that with a little better luck she would have been loose and gone. She didn't fight at all when he remounted, and she showed no sign of wanting to buck anymore. Call kept her in a trot for a mile or two before letting her go back to the lope. He didn't expect her to try it again. She was too intelligent to waste her energies at a time when she knew he would be set for trouble. Somehow she had sensed that he had his mind on other things when she exploded. In a way it pleased him--he had never cared for totally docile horses. He liked an animal that was as alert as he was--or, in the mare's case, even more alert. She had been aware of his preoccupations, whereas he had had no inkling of her intentions.

  Now she was content to ignore her own failure, but he had no doubt that if she judged the time to be right she would try again. He decided to find some braided horsehair reins when he got to Austin--the thin leather rein he was using could easily have snapped. Braided horsehair would give him an advantage if he got thrown again, and he had never been exceptional at riding bucking horses.

  "You try what you like," he said. He had begun, more and more, to talk out loud to her when they were alone. "I'll tell you this: I aim to ride you across the Yellowstone, and if I don't it'll be because one of us gets killed first." The gray mare loped on toward Austin, once again easily eating up the miles.

  Lorena was amused that Gus had stopped. He was not a man to miss a chance. If he thought to trick her again, he would have to work hard at it, but she was relieved to have him stay. The two days since Jake had left were wearisome. Although she knew he would come back in time, she was less and less certain that it mattered, for Jake had taken a grudge against her and she suspected he would be slow to give it up. It was puzzling to her, thinking back on it, why she had been so quick to trust him.

  Somehow he had convinced her he was the answer to all her problems. She had felt an overpowering feeling of need and trust when he had sat down and began talking to her so friendly. He had seemed as eager to hear her talk as she had been to hear his.

  Only a month had passed, and in the last few days he had made it perfectly clear that he had no interest in ever hearing her talk again and would prefer that she didn't. It made her sad. If she was always going to be so mistaken about men, she would be lucky ever to get to San Francisco.

  At times, waiting, she had almost decided just to take the horse and the mule and try to find her way back to Lonesome Dove. Xavier had said he would marry her and take her anywhere she wanted to go. She remembered the day he had come into the room--his wild eyes, his threat to kill Jake. When she had nothing to do but sit around and think about it, her capacity for mistakes discouraged her so that she considered drowning herself in the little pool. But it was a sunny, pretty morning, and when she went into the pool a little later, it was only to wash her hair in the cool water. For a moment she put her head under and opened her eyes, but it felt silly--to die in such an element was only ridiculous. She began to wonder if perhaps she was touched--if that was why she made mistakes. Her mother had been touched. She often babbled of people no one knew. She talked to dead relatives, dead babies, speaking to them as if they were still alive. Lorena wondered if it was mistakes that had made her mother do that. Perhaps, after so many mistakes, your mind finally broke loose and wandered back and forth between past and present.

  "Lorie, you look downcast," Augustus said. "Not four or five days ago you felt keen and looked more beautiful than the sky. What's t
hat scamp done to cause such a change?" "I don't know, Gus," Lorena said.

  "Seems like I change every day." "Oh, like most people do," he said, watching her.

  She had a sad look in her eyes.

  "I didn't used to down in Lonesome Dove," she said. "I mainly just felt the same from one day to the next." "Yes, hopeless," Augustus said. "You didn't expect nothing. Then Jake come along and started you expecting again." "I didn't expect this," Lorena said.

  "No, but he got you hoping, at least," Augustus said. "The trouble is, Jake ain't a man to support nobody's hopes but his own." Lorena shrugged. It hadn't been Jake's fault. He hadn't asked her to turn herself over to him, although he had accepted readily enough when she did.

  "I guess I'm in a fix," she said. "He ain't gonna take me to California." "Nope," Augustus said. "It's too bad Call's ornery about women or we could make you a cook and all the cowhands could fall in love with you. Dish is near crazy with love for you as it is." "That won't get him much," Lorena said.

  Dish had been her last customer before Jake.

  He had a white body, like all the rest, and was so excited he was hardly with her any time.

  "Well, he's got you to think about," Augustus said. "That's more important than you might think. A young man needs a woman to think about." "I guess he's free to think all he wants," Lorena said. "Why'd you stop off, Gus?" "Hoping for a poke," Augustus said.

  "What's it gonna be this time, draw poker?" "No, blackjack," Lorena said. "I'm luckier at it. What do I get if I win?" Augustus grinned. "I'll be your whore," he said. "You can have a poke on demand." "Why would I want one?" Lorena asked. The notion of a man being a whore amused her a little, it was so unusual.

  "Think about it a minute," Augustus said.

  "Suppose it all worked the other way, and men were the whores. You just walk into a saloon and jingle your money and buy anyone you wanted. And he'd have to take his clothes off and do what you said do." "I never seen one I wanted," Lorena said.

  "'Cept Jake, and that didn't last any time." "I know it's hard to think about," Augustus said. "You been the one wanted all this time. Just suppose it was the opposite and you could buy what you wanted in the way of a man." Lorena decided Gus was the craziest man she had ever known. He didn't look crazy, but his notions were wild.

  "Suppose I was a whore," he said.

  "I've always figured I'd make a good one.

  If you win this hand I'll give you a free poke and all you'll have to figure out is how to enjoy it." "I wouldn't enjoy it," Lorena said. She had never enjoyed it, and it would take more than Gus's talk to change her opinion.

  "Did you never play games?" Augustus asked.

  "I played spin the bottle," Lorena said, remembering that she had played it with her brother, who had been sickly and had stayed in Alabama with her grandmother.

  "Well, it's a kind of game we're talking about," Augustus said. "Games are played for fun. You've thought about it as a business too long. If you win the card game you ought to pretend you're a fancy lady in San Francisco who don't have nothing to do but lay around on silk sheets and have a nigger bring you buttermilk once in a while. And what my job is is to make you feel good." "I don't like buttermilk," Lorena said.

  To her surprise, Gus suddenly stroked her cheek. It took her aback and she put her head down on her knees. Gus put his hand under her wet hair and rubbed the back of her neck.

  "Yes, that's your problem," he said. "You don't like buttermilk, or nothing else. You're like a starving person whose stomach is shrunk up from not having any food. You're shrunk up from not wanting nothing." "I want to get to San Francisco," Lorena said. "It's cool, they say." "You'd be better off if you could just enjoy a poke once in a while," Augustus said, taking one of her hands in his and smoothing her fingers.

  "Life in San Francisco is still just life.

  If you want one thing too much it's likely to be a disappointment. The healthy way is to learn to like the everyday things, like soft beds and buttermilk--and feisty gentlemen." Lorena didn't answer. She shut her eyes and let Gus hold her hand. She was afraid he would try more, without paying her or even playing cards, but he didn't. It was a very still morning.

  Gus seemed content to hold her hand and sit quietly. She could hear the horses swishing their tails.

  Then Gus let her hand go and stood up and took off his shirt and pants. Lorena wondered what made him behave so strangely--they were supposed to play cards first. Gus had on flannel underwear that had been pink once. It was so worn the color had almost faded to white. It was full of holes and his white chest hair stuck out of some of the holes. He also took off his boots and socks.

  "You had your bath, but I ain't had one," he said, and went to the water hole and waded right in, underwear and all. The water was cold, but Gus went splashing off across the pool. He ducked his head under a few times and then swam back.

  "Dern, that water was so cold it shriveled my pod," he said. He sat down on a big rock to let the heat dry him. Then, looking beyond her, he apparently saw something she couldn't see.

  "Lorie, would you mind handing me my gun belt?" he asked.

  "Why?" she asked.

  "I see an Indian coming and I can't tell if he's friendly," Augustus said. "He's riding a pacing horse and that ain't a good sign." His old pistol was so heavy she had to use both hands to pass the gun belt to him.

  "Jake rides a pacing horse," she said.

  "Yes, and he's a scamp," Augustus said.

  Lorena looked west, but she could see no one.

  The rolling plain was empty.

  "Where is he?" she asked.

  "He'll be a while yet," Augustus said.

  "How do you know he's an Indian, if he's that far?" she asked.

  "Indians got their own way of riding, that's why," Augustus said. "This one might have killed a Mexican or at least stole one's horse." "How do you know?" she asked.

  "He's got silver on his saddle, like Mexicans go in for," Augustus said. "I seen the sun flashing on it." Lorena looked again and saw a tiny speck.

  "I don't know how you can see that far, Gus," she said.

  "Call don't neither," Augustus said.

  "Makes him mad. He's better trained than me but ain't got the eyesight." Then he grinned at her, and put his hat on to shade his eyes. He was watching the west in a way that made her apprehensive.

  "You want the rifle?" she asked.

  "No, I've shot many a sassy bandit with this pistol," he said. "I'm glad to have my hat, though. It don't do to go into a scrape bareheaded." The rider was close enough by then that she too could see the occasional flash of sun on the saddle.

  A few minutes later he rode into camp. He was a big man, riding a bay stallion. Gus had been right: he was an Indian. He had long, tangled black hair and wore no hat--just a bandana tied around his head. His leather leggings were greasy and his boots old, though he wore a pair of silver spurs with big rowels. He had a large knife strapped to one leg and carried a rifle lightly across the pommel of his saddle.

  He looked at them without expression--in fact, not so much at them as at their horses.

  Lorena wished Augustus would say something, but he sat quietly, watching the man from under the brim of his old hat. The man had a very large head, squarish and heavy.

  "I'd like to water," he said, finally. His voice was as heavy as his head.

  "It's free water," Augustus said. "I hope you like it cold. We ain't got time to warm it for you." "I like it wet," the man said and trotted past them to the pool. He dismounted and squatted quickly, raising the water to his mouth in a cupped hand.

  "Now that's a graceful skill," Augustus said. "Most men just drop on their bellies to drink out of a pond, or else dip water in their hats, which means the water tastes like hair." The bay stallion waded a few steps into the pool and drank deeply.

  The man waited until the horse had finished drinking, then came walking back, his spurs jingling lightly as he walked. Again he glanced at their horses,
before looking at them.

  "This is Miss Wood," Augustus said, "and I'm Captain McCrae. I hope you've had breakfast because we're low on grub." The man looked at Augustus calmly and a little insolently, it seemed to Lorena.

  "I'm Blue Duck," he said. "I've heard of you, McCrae. But I didn't know you was so old." "Oh, I wasn't till lately," Augustus said. It seemed to Lorena that he too had a touch of insolence in his manner. Though Gus was sitting in his underwear, apparently relaxed, Lorena didn't think there was anything relaxed about the situation. The Indian called Blue Duck was frightening. Now that he stood close to them his head seemed bigger than ever, and his hands too. He held the rifle in the crook of his arm, handling it like a toy.