Larry McMurtry - Lonesome Dove

by Lonesome Dove

  "I might miss something." "Might miss getting snakebit," Lippy said. Since the incident on the Nueces he had developed such a terror of snakes that he slept in the wagon and even stood on the wagon seat to urinate.

  Po Campo had walked all day, a hundred yards or so west of the herd, trailing two sacks he had tucked in his belt. Now and then he would put something in one of them, but nobody saw what unless it was the pigs, who trailed the old man closely. All that could be said was that his stew was wonderfully flavorsome. Deets ate so many helpings that he grew embarrassed about his appetite.

  It was Deets who first got up his nerve to sample the fried grasshoppers. Since the new cook had the crew in such a good mood, Call allowed him to use a little of the molasses they were saving for special occasions. Just having someone who could cook decently was a special occasion, though, like the men, he put no stock in eating grasshoppers.

  But Po Campo had caught a big sackful, and when his grease was hot he sprinkled them into it five or six at a time. When he judged they were done he used the tip of a big knife to flick them out onto a piece of cheesecloth. Soon he had forty or fifty fried, and no one rushing to eat them.

  "Eat them," he said. "They're better than potatoes." "May be, but they don't look like potatoes," Allen O'Brien said. "They look like bugs." "Dish, you're a top hand, you ought to take the first helping," Augustus said. "None of us would want to cut you out of your turn." "You're welcome to my dang turn," Dish said. "I pass on eatin' bugs." "What's holding you back, Gus?" Needle Nelson asked.

  "Wisdom," Augustus said.

  Finally Deets walked over and picked up one of the grasshoppers. He was inclined to trust a man who could cook such flavorsome stew. He grinned, but didn't eat it right away.

  "Put a little molasses on it," Po Campo urged.

  Deets dipped the grasshopper in the little dish of molasses.

  "I don't guess it will kill him but I bet it makes him vomit," Lippy said, watching the proceedings from the safety of the wagon seat.

  "I wish you'd fry up some of these mosquitoes," Augustus said. "I doubt they'd make good eating, but at least we'd be rid of them." Then Deets ate the grasshopper. He crunched it, chewed, and then reached for another, grinning his big grin. "Tastes just like candy," he said.

  After he had eaten three or four he offered one to Newt, who covered it liberally with molasses. To his surprise, it tasted fine, though mostly what tasted was the molasses. The grasshopper itself just tasted crunchy, like the tailbones of a catfish.

  Newt ate another of his own accord and Deets ate four or five more. Then Deets persuaded Pea Eye to try one and Pea ate two or three. To everyone's surprise, Call strolled over and ate a couple; in fact, he had a sweet tooth and couldn't resist the molasses. Dish decided he had to eat one to keep up his reputation, and then the Rainey boys each ate a couple to imitate Newt. Pete Spettle walked over and ate two and then Soupy, Needle and Bert each tried one. The remaining grasshoppers went quick, and before Jasper could make up his mind to try one they were all gone.

  "Dern you all for a bunch of greedy pigs," he said, wishing someone had thought to save him at least one.

  "Now I've seen everything," Augustus said.

  "Cowboys eating bugs." His pride had not allowed him to sample them--it would only mean another triumph for Po Campo.

  "Did I tell you worms make good butter?" Po Campo said.

  "Anybody who tries to butter my biscuit with a worm had better have a long stride," Soupy Jones remarked. "This outfit is getting crazier all the time." While the crew was standing around discussing the merits of grasshoppers they heard a galloping horse approaching camp.

  "I hope it's the mail," Augustus said.

  "It's Mr. Jake," Deets said, long before the horse came in sight.

  Jake Spoon rode right up to the campfire and jumped off his horse, which was lathered with sweat.

  He looked around wildly, as if expecting to see someone.

  "Ain't Lorie here?" he asked.

  "No," Augustus said, feeling sick suddenly. The night's stampede had caused him to forget Lorena completely. He had even forgotten that Jake had been out of pocket. He had drowsed all day, relieved that Newt was safe and supposing that Lorie had been fine or Newt wouldn't have left her.

  "Gus, you better not be hiding her," Jake said in a shaky voice. He had whiskey on his breath.

  "We're not hiding her," Call said quietly. "She ain't been here." Newt was about to go on night guard. He was just repairing a cinch that had begun to fray. At the sight of Jake he felt a deep apprehension.

  All day he had believed that he had gotten away with his stupidity in leaving his horse. Now a new and worse fear struck him. Something had happened to the woman he had been sent to guard.

  "Well, by God, she's gone, and I'd like to know where she went," Jake said.

  "Maybe she moved camp," Augustus said, not wanting to face what he knew. "Or maybe you missed it--you look like you've had a few." "I've had a whole bottle," Jake said.

  "But I ain't drunk, and even if I was I could find my own dern camp. Anyway, the camping stuff is there. It's just Lorie and the two horses that are gone." Call sighed. "What about tracks?" he asked.

  Jake looked disgusted. "I didn't look for no tracks," he said. "I figured she come over here and married Gus. They're such sweethearts they have to have breakfast together every morning. Anyhow, where else would she go? She ain't got a map." Jake looked tired and shaky; he also looked worried.

  "Where in tarnation could she go?" he asked the crowd at large. "I guess I can find her tomorrow. She can't be far off." Augustus's saddle lay a few feet away. He had been meaning to spread a tarp by it and use the saddle for a pillow. Instead he picked it up, went over and untied his rope. Without another word he headed for the remuda.

  "Where's he going?" Jake asked. "I can't figure him out." The sight of Jake, half drunk and useless, filled Call with disgust. Incompetents invariably made trouble for people other than themselves.

  Jake had refused to take part in the work, had brought his whore along and then let her get stolen.

  "She was there last night," Newt said, very worried. "Mr. Gus sent me to watch. I watched till the cattle got to running." Augustus came back, leading a big sorrel he called Jerry. The horse had an erratic disposition but was noted for his speed and wind.

  "You ought to wait and look at the tracks," Call said. "You don't know what happened. She could have ridden into town. Jake might have missed her." "No, Blue Duck stole her," Augustus said. "It's my fault for not shooting the son of a bitch while he was drinking. I didn't know who he was at the time, but I should have shot him on suspicion. And then I plumb forgot about it all day. I'm getting too foolish to live." "Blue Duck was here?" Jake said, looking sick.

  "Yep," Augustus said, saddling the sorrel.

  "I didn't worry much because Deets tracked him way south. But I guess he fooled us both." "Why, there was talk of him over at Fort Worth," Jake said. "He runs a big gang of murderers. They lay by the trails and murder travelers for whatever they've got on 'em. Why didn't you just bring her to camp, if you knew he was around?" "I should have, for sure," Augustus said. "But she didn't want to come. She had faith in you for some reason." "Well, this is aggravating," Jake said.

  "She wouldn't come to town either. She would have been safe in town. But she wouldn't come." "What's your plan, Gus?" he asked, when he saw that Augustus was almost ready to leave.

  "My plan is to go get Lorie back," Augustus said.

  "I hope you catch the man before he gets home," Call said. "Otherwise you'll be up against a gang." Augustus shrugged. "It's just one gang," he said.

  "I'm going with you," Dish Boggett said, surprising everyone.

  "I didn't ask for volunteers and I don't want any," Augustus said.

  "It's none of your say anyway, you pup!" Jake said hotly.

  "I ain't no pup and you're a gambling lowlife who let her get stolen," Dish said coolly. He and Jake faced off, bot
h tense as wires, but Augustus mounted and rode his horse in between them.

  "Now, girls," he said, "let's not get to gunfighting. I'm going and you two are staying here." "It's a free country," Dish said, looking up at Augustus angrily.

  "Not for you, it ain't," Augustus said.

  "You've got to stay here and keep this cow herd pointed for the north star." "That's right," Call said quickly. Losing Gus was all right--he seldom worked anyway. But Dish was their best hand. He had already turned two stampedes--something no one else in the outfit had the skill to manage.

  Dish didn't like it, but, faced with the Captain's orders, there was not much he could do about it. The thought of Lorena in the hands of an outlaw made him feel sick, and his rage at Jake Spoon for exposing her to such danger was terrible.

  He turned and walked away.

  "Are we leaving tonight?" Jake asked. "My horse is rode down." "You ain't leaving at all, Jake," Augustus said. "At least not with me. I'm likely to have to travel hard, and I won't have time for conversation." Jake flared up again. "By God, I'll go if I please," he said. "She's my woman." Augustus ignored him. "I hate to leave just when you're breaking in a new cook," he said to Call. "I guess by the time I get back you'll all be nibbling on spiders and centipedes." Deets came over, looking worried. "You best watch close," he said. "He gave me the slip--might give you the slip." "Oh, you probably had your mind on grasshoppers or something, Deets," Augustus said.

  "You got enough shells?" Call asked.

  "I don't know, I ain't counted the gang yet," Augustus said. "If I run out I can always throw rocks at them." With that and a nod he rode off. Call felt a little confused. Though the woman was no responsibility of his, he felt like he should be going too. Here he was, stuck with a bunch of cattle, while Gus was riding off to do the work they ought to have done long ago. It didn't feel right.

  Meanwhile, Jake was working himself into a fury over Gus's behavior.

  "I should have shot him!" he said. "By God, what does he mean, leaving me? I brought the woman, I guess I've got a right to go fetch her back." "You should have stuck closer," Call remarked.

  "I meant to," Jake said guiltily. "I only meant to stay in Austin one night. But then I got some good hands and thought I'd make it two. She could have come with me but she wouldn't.

  Loan me a horse, why don't you? I don't want Gus to get too much of a start." "He said he didn't want you," Call said.

  "You know him. If he don't want you he won't take you." "He wouldn't let us alone," Jake said, as if talking to himself. "He was always coming for breakfast." Then his eyes fell on Newt, who was feeling guilty enough. "You was sent to watch her," Jake said. "I'd say you did a hell of a poor job." Newt didn't reply. It was true--he had, and it made him feel worse that Jake was the one to say it. He mounted his night horse and rode quickly out of camp. He knew he was going to cry and didn't want any of the boys to see him. Soon he did cry, so much that the tears dripped off his face and wet the cantle of his saddle.

  Back in camp, Jake was still stomping around in a fury. "That boy ain't worth his wages," he said. "I should have given him a lick or two." Call didn't like his tone. "You sit down," he said. "He don't need a lick. He came back to help with the stampede, which is what he was supposed to do. Probably Blue Duck started the cattle running some way and then went and got the woman. It ain't the boy's fault." Then Jake spotted Po Campo, who was sitting propped against a wagon wheel, his serape wrapped around him.

  "Who's this, another bandit?" Jake asked.

  "No, just a cook," Po Campo said.

  "Well, you look like a bandit to me," Jake said. "Maybe that goddamned Indian sent you to poison us all." "Jake, you sit down or get out," Call said. "I won't hear this wild talk." "By God, I'll get out," Jake said.

  "Loan me a horse." "No, sir," Call said. "We need all we've got. You can buy one in Austin." Jake looked like he might collapse from nervousness and anger. All the boys who weren't on night guard watched him silently. The men's disrespect showed in their faces, but Jake was too disturbed to notice.

  "By God, you and Gus are fine ones," Jake said. "I never thought to be treated this way." He climbed on his tired horse and rode out of camp mumbling to himself.

  "Jake must have got his nerves stretched," Pea Eye said mildly.

  "He won't get far on that horse," Deets said.

  "He don't need to get far," Call said.

  "I imagine he'll just sleep off the whiskey and be back in the morning." "You don't want me to go with Mr. Gus?" Deets asked. It was clear he was worried.

  Call considered it. Deets was a fine tracker, not to mention a cool hand. He could be of some help to Gus. But the girl was none of his affair, and they needed Deets's scouting skills. Water might get scarcer and harder to find once they struck the plains.

  "We don't want to lose Mr. Gus," Deets said.

  "Why, I doubt anything would happen to Gus," Pea Eye said, surprised that anyone would think something might. Gus had always been there, the loudest person around. Pea Eye tried to imagine what might happen to him but came up with nothing--his brain made no picture of Gus in trouble.

  Call agreed with him. Augustus had always proved to be a good deal more capable than most outlaws, even famous ones.

  "No, you stay with us, Deets," Call said.

  "Gus likes the notion of whipping out a whole gang of outlaws all by himself." Deets let be, but he didn't feel easy. The fact that he had lost the track worried him. It meant the Indian was better than him. He might be better than Mr.

  Gus, too. The Captain always said it was better to have two men, one to look in front and one to look behind. Mr. Gus would not have anyone to look behind.

  Deets worried all the next day.

  Augustus did not come back, and no more was seen of Jake Spoon.

  Lorena didn't see the man come. She wasn't asleep, or even thinking about sleep.

  What she was thinking was that it was about time for Jake to show up. Much as he liked card playing, he liked his carrot better. He would be back before long.

  Then, without her hearing a step or feeling any danger, Blue Duck was standing in front of her, the rifle still held in his big hand like a toy. She saw his legs and the rifle when she looked up, but a cloud had passed over the moon and she couldn't see his face--not at first.

  A cold fear struck her. She knew she had been wrong not to go to the cow camp. She had even sent the boy away. She should have gone, but she had the silly notion that Jake would show up and scare the bandit off if he came back.

  "Let's git," Blue Duck said.

  He had already caught her horse, without her hearing. Lorena felt so scared she was afraid she couldn't walk. She didn't want to look at the man--she might start running and then he would kill her. He had the worst voice she had ever heard. It was low, like the lowing of that bull she kept hearing at night, but there was death in it too.

  She looked down for a moment at the bedding; she had been combing her hair and her little box with her comb in it was there. But the man pushed her toward the horse.

  "No, thanks, we'll travel light," he said.

  She managed to mount, but her legs were shaking.

  She felt his hand on her ankle. He took a rawhide string and tied her ankle to her stirrup.

  Then he went around and tied the other ankle.

  "I guess that'll hold you," he said, and caught the packhorse.

  Then they were moving, her horses snubbed to his by a short rope. To the west, where the cow camp was, she heard shouts, and the drumming sound of the cattle running. Blue Duck rode right toward the sound. In a minute they were in the running cattle; Lorena was so frightened she kept her eyes closed, but she could feel the heat of the animals' bodies. Then they were through the cattle.

  She looked, hoping to see Gus or one of the cowboys--anyone who might help her. But she saw no one.

  When the sound of the stampede died, Lorena let go all hope. She had been stolen by a man Gus said was bad. The man
put the horses into a lope, and it seemed to Lorena they were going to lope forever. Blue Duck didn't look back and didn't speak. At first she was only conscious of how scared she was, though she felt flickers of anger at Jake for letting it happen. She knew it was as much her fault as Jake's, but she soon stopped caring whose fault it was. She knew she was as good as dead, and would never get to see San Francisco, the one thing she had always looked forward to. Soon even that loss and the prospect of death ceased to mean much, she grew so tired. She had never ridden so hard.

  Before morning, all she could think of was stopping, although for all she knew, when they did stop something bad would happen. But in time it came to seem to be worth it just to stop.

  Yet when they did stop, in the faint dawn, it was only for five minutes. They had crossed many creeks during the night. Her legs had been wet several times. In a little creek scarcely five feet wide he decided to let the horses water. He untied Lorena's ankles and nodded for her to get down. She did, and almost fell, her limbs were so weak and numb. It was dark in the little creekbed, but light on the ridge above it. As she stood by her horse, holding on to a stirrup until some feeling came back in her legs, Blue Duck opened his trousers and made water, while the horses drank.