"If you want to talk to me you'll have to come a little closer," Augustus said. "I ain't walking that far barefooted." Call dismounted and walked over to him. "I don't know what's the matter with Deets," he said.
"Well, Deets is sensitive," Augustus said. "Probably you hurt his feelings in your blunt way." "I didn't hurt his feelings," Call said.
"I always try to be especially good to Deets.
He's the best man we got." "Best man we've ever had," Augustus said.
"Maybe he's sick." "No," Call said.
"I hope he ain't planning to leave us," Augustus said. "I doubt the rest of us could even find the water holes." "He says he don't like the north," Call said. "That's all he'll say." "I hear we strike the Platte tomorrow," Augustus said. "All the boys are ready to go off and catch social diseases." "I know it," Call said. "I'd just as soon miss this town, but we do need supplies." "Let them boys go off and hurrah a little," Augustus said. "It might be their last chance." "Why would it be their last chance?" "Old Deets might know something," Augustus said. "Since he's so sensitive. We might all get killed by Indians in the next week or two." "I doubt that," Call said. "You ain't much more cheerful than he is." "No," Augustus said. He knew they were not far from Clara's house, a fact which made Lorena extremely nervous.
"What will you do with me?" she had asked.
"Leave me in the tent when you go see her?" "No, ma'am," he said. "I'll take you along and introduce you properly. You ain't just baggage, you know. Clara probably don't see another woman once a month. She'll be happy for feminine conversation." "She may know what I am, though," Lorena said.
"Yes, she'll know you're a human being," Augustus said. "You don't have to duck your head to nobody. Half the women in this country probably started out like you did, working in saloons." "She didn't," Lorena said. "I bet she was always a lady. That's why you wanted to marry her." Augustus chuckled. "A lady can slice your jugular as quick as a Comanche," he said.
"Clara's got a sharp tongue. She's tomahawked me many a time in the past." "I'll be afraid to meet her, then," Lorena said. "I'll be afraid of what she'll say." "Oh, she'll be polite to you," Augustus assured her. "I'm the one that will have to watch my step." But no matter what he said, he couldn't soothe the girl's agitation. She felt she would lose him, and that was that. She offered her body--it was all she knew to do. Something in the manner of the offer saddened him, though he accepted it. In their embraces she seemed to feel, for a moment, that he loved her; yet soon afterward she would grow sad again.
"You're worrying yourself into a sweat for nothing," he said. "Clara's husband will probably live to be ninety-six, and anyway she and I probably ain't got no use for one another now. I ain't got the energy for Clara. I doubt I ever did." At night, when she finally slept, he would sit in the tent, pondering it all. He could see the campfire. Whatever boys weren't night herding would be standing around it, swapping jokes.
Probably all of them envied him, for he had a woman and they didn't. He envied them back, for they were carefree and he wasn't. Once started, love couldn't easily be stopped. He had started it with Lorie, and it might never be stopped. He would be lucky to get again such easy pleasures as the men enjoyed, sitting around a campfire swapping jokes. Though he felt deeply fond of Lorena, he could also feel a yearning to be loose again and have nothing to do but win at cards.
The next morning he left Lorena for a bit and fell in with Deets.
"Deets, have you ever spent much time wanting what you know you can't have?" he asked, figuring to get the conversation off to a brisk start.
"'Spect I've had a good life," Deets said. "Captain paid me a fair wage. Ain't been sick but twice, and one time was when I got shot over by the river." "That ain't an answer to the question I asked," Augustus said.
"Wantin' takes too much time," Deets said. "I'd rather be working." "Yes, but what would you have, if you could have what you really want, right now?" Deets trotted along for a bit before he answered. "Be back on the river," he said.
"Hell, the Rio Grande ain't the only river," Augustus commented, but before they could continue the discussion they saw a group of riders come over a ridge, far to the north. Augustus saw at once that they were soldiers.
"'I God, we've found the cavalry, at least," he said.
There were nearly forty soldiers. The ponies in the remuda began to nicker at the sight of so many strange horses. Call and Augustus loped out and met them a half mile away, for the herd was looking restive at the sight of the riders.
The leader of the troop was a small man with a gray mustache, who wore a Captain's bars.
He seemed irritated at the sight of the herd.
It was soon plain that he was drunk.
Beside him rode a large man in greasy buckskins, clearly a scout. He was bearded and had a wad of tobacco in his jaw.
"I'm Captain Weaver and this is Dixon, our scout," the Captain said. "Where the hell do you men think you're taking these cattle?" "We thought we were headed for Montana," Augustus said lightly. "Where are we, Illinois?" Call was irritated with Gus. He would make a joke.
"No, but you'll wish you were if Red Cloud finds you," Captain Weaver said. "You're in the middle of an Indian war, that's where you are." "Why in hell would anybody think they wanted to take cattle to Montana?" Dixon, the scout, said. He had an insolent look.
"We thought it would be a good place to sit back and watch 'em shit," Augustus said. Insolence was apt to bring out the comic in him, as Call knew too well.
"We've heard there are wonderful pastures in Montana," Call said, hoping to correct the bad impression Gus was giving.
"There may be, but you cowpokes won't live to see them," Dixon said.
"Oh, well," Augustus said, "we wasn't always cowpokes. We put in some twenty years fighting Comanches in the state of Texas.
Don't these Indians up here fall off their horses like other Indians when you put a bullet or two in them?" "Some do and some just keep coming," Captain Weaver said. "I didn't come over here to talk all morning. Have you men seen any sign?" "Our scout didn't mention any," Call said, waving to Deets.
"Oh, you've got a nigger for a scout," Dixon said. "No wonder you're lost." "We ain't lost," Call said, annoyed suddenly, "and that black man could track you across the coals of hell." "And bring you back on a pitchfork, if we asked him to," Augustus added.
"What makes you think you can say things like that to us?" Captain Weaver said, flushing with anger.
"Ain't it still a free country?" Augustus asked. "Who asked you to ride up and insult our scout?" Deets came loping up and Call asked him if he had seen Indian sign.
"None between here and the river," Deets said.
A pale-looking young lieutenant suddenly spoke up.
"I thought they went east," he said.
"We went east," Weaver said. "Where do you think we've been for the last week?" "Maybe they went farther and faster," Augustus said. "Indians usually do. From the looks of those nags you're riding they could probably outrun you on foot." "You're a damn impertinent man," Weaver said. "Those Indians killed a buffalo hunter and a woman, two days ago. Three weeks ago they wiped out a family southeast of here. If you see them you'll wish you'd kept your damn beeves in Texas." "Let's go," Call said, abruptly turning his horse.
"We need horses," Captain Weaver said.
"Ours are about ridden down." "Ain't that what I said that you thought was so impertinent?" Augustus remarked.
"I see you've got extras," Weaver said.
"We'll take 'em. There's a man who sells horses west of Ogallala. You can buy some more there and send the Army a bill." "No, thanks," Call said. "We like the ones we've got." "I wasn't asking," Weaver said. "I'm requisitioning your horses." Augustus laughed. Call didn't. He saw that the man was serious.
"We need 'em," Dixon said. "We've got to protect this frontier." Augustus laughed again. "Who have you protected lately?" he asked. "All you've told us about are people you didn't protect." "I'm tired of ta
lking," Weaver said. "Go get the horses, Jim. Take a couple of men and pick out good ones." "You can't have any horses," Call said. "You have no authority to requisition stock from us." "By God, I'll have those horses or I'll have your hides," Weaver said. "Go get 'em, Jim." The young lieutenant looked very nervous, but he turned as if to ride over to the herd.
"Hold on, son, the argument ain't over," Augustus said.
"You'd defy an officer of the U.s. Army?" Weaver asked.
"You're as close to that horse trader in Ogallala as we are," Call pointed out.
"Yes, but we're going the other way," Weaver said.
"You were headed this way when you spotted us," Augustus said. "When'd you change your mind?" Dixon, the big scout, was listening to the conversation with contempt in his expression. The contempt was as much for Weaver as for them.
Captain Weaver turned to the young man. "I gave you an order. These men are all bluff.
They're just cowboys. Go get the horses." As the young man passed, Augustus reached down and caught his bridle.
"If you want them horses, why don't you go get 'em?" he said. "You're the Captain." "I call this treason," Weaver said. "You men can be hung for treason." Call had been looking over the rest of the troop. Throughout his career in the Rangers he had been bothered by how sluggishly the cavalry performed, and the troop he saw watching the proceedings looked more sluggish than most. Half the men had gone to sleep in their saddles the moment the column stopped, and the horses all looked as if they needed a month off on good grass.
"How far is Ogallala?" Call asked.
"I'm not interested in Ogallala," Weaver said. "I'm interested in Red Cloud." "We don't know this Red Cloud," Augustus said. "But if he's much of a war chief you better hope you don't catch him. I doubt an Indian would even consent to eat them ponies you're riding. I never saw a worse-mounted bunch of men." "Well, we've been out ten days, and it's none of your concern," Weaver said, trembling with indignation. Although Augustus was doing most of the talking, it was Call whom he looked at with hatred.
"Let's go," Call said. "This is pointless talk." He saw that the little Captain was keyed up to the point where it wouldn't take much to provoke him into an explosion.
"Jim, get them horses," Weaver said.
"No," Call said. "You can't have our horses. And I'll give you some advice, too. Your troop's exhausted. If you was to find Indians you'd be the one's massacred, most likely. You don't just need fresh horses, you need fresh men." "What I don't need is advice from a goddamn cowboy," Weaver said.
"We've fought Comanches and Kiowas and Mexican bandits for twenty years and we're still here," Call said. "You'd do well to listen." "If I see you in town I'll box your goddamn ears," Dixon said, addressing himself to Call.
Call ignored the man. He turned and started to ride away. Augustus released the young lieutenant's bridle.
"Leave me that nigger," Weaver said. "I've heard they can smell Indians. They're just red niggers, anyway." "No," Call said. "I'd be afraid you'd mistreat him." They went to the wagon. When they turned to look, the cavalry troop was still sitting there.
"Reckon they'll charge?" Augustus asked.
"Charge a cow herd?" Call said. "I wouldn't think so. Weaver's mad, but not that mad." They waited, but the cavalry merely sat on the ridge for a few minutes and then turned and rode away.
That afternoon they crossed the Platte River just east of Ogallala and turned the herd northwest. From the slopes north of the river they saw the little collection of shacks and frame buildings that made up the town. The cowboys were so entranced by the sight that they could hardly keep their minds on their business long enough to drive the cattle to a good bed-ground.
Call tried to caution them a little, mentioning that there were said to be Indians on the rampage, but the men scarcely heard him. Even Dish Boggett was in a fever to go. Call let six men go in first: Dish, Soupy, Bert, Jasper, Needle and the Irishman. They all put on fresh shirts and raced away as if a hundred Comanches were after them.
Augustus, setting up his tent, stopped a moment to watch them run. The cowboys whooped and waved their hats as they raced.
"Look at 'em go, Lorie," Augustus said. "Can't wait to get to town." Lorena was uninterested. She had only one thing on her mind.
"When are you going to see her?" she asked.
"Oh, tomorrow will do," Augustus said. "We'll both go." "I'll stay here," Lorena said. "I'd be too scared of what you'd say." Her hands were shaking at the thought of the woman, but she helped Gus peg the tent.
"I've a mind to go to Ogallala myself," Augustus said. "Would you like to come?" "Why do you want to?" she asked.
"Well, it's a town, of sorts," he said.
"I've a mind to do something civilized, like eat dinner in a restaurant. If that's asking too much, I could at least go in a barroom and drink a glass of whiskey.
"Come with me," he added. "They've probably got a store or two. We could buy you some clothes." Lorena considered it. She had been wearing men's clothes since Gus rescued her. There hadn't been any place to buy any others. She would need a dress if she went with Gus to see the woman. But she didn't know if she really wanted to go see her--although she had built up a good deal of curiosity about her. Lots of curiosity, but more fear. It was a strange life, just staying in the tent and talking to no one but Gus, but she was used to it. The thought of town frightened her almost as much as the thought of the woman.
"Do you want a whore or what?" she asked, when she saw him getting ready to go to town.
"Why would I want a whore, when I've got you?" he asked. "You womenfolk have got strange minds. What I'd mainly like to do is sit in a chair and drink whiskey. I wouldn't mind a hand or two of cards either." "You want that other woman, and you've got me," Lorena said. "You could want us both and a whore too, I guess. Go get one if you want--I don't care." She almost hoped he would. It would strengthen her case against the other woman.
"Come with me," Augustus said. "I'll buy you some new dresses." "Just buy me one yourself," Lorena said. "Buy one you like." "But I don't know your size," he said.
"Why are you so shy of towns? There ain't a soul in that town who's ever met you." She wouldn't go, so he gave up asking her and went himself, stopping at the wagon a minute to make sure Po Campo would take her her food. Call was there, looking restless. Since most of the experienced hands were gone, he had decided to stay with the herd and buy supplies tomorrow once some of them got back.
The herd was grazing peacefully on the rolling slopes. The hands who were left, boys mostly, looked melancholy at the thought of the opportunities they were missing.
"Come ride to town with me," Augustus said to Call. "This place is quiet as a church on Monday. I'll buy you a meal and we can sit and talk philosophy." "No, I'll stay," Call said. "I don't know a philosophy." "Your philosophy is to worry too much," Augustus said. "Jake would have gone with me quick enough if we hadn't hung him." "Damn it, he brought it on himself," Call said.
"I know that, but when I spot a town I remember what a fine companion he was around supper time," Augustus said.
He loped the five or six miles to Ogallala, feeling rather strange, for it had just hit him how much he did miss Jake Spoon.
Many a time, returning from a scout on the Brazos, they had raced into Austin together and divided the night between whiskey, cards and women. Clara and Call would both be stiff with them for a week after such a carouse; Clara, if anything, softened slower than Call.
Now Jake was gone and Clara near. It seemed to him he might be wise not to go see her-- just trail on into Montana and let the past be past. No woman had affected his heart in the way she had. The memory was so sweet he was almost afraid to threaten it by seeing what Clara had become. She might have become a tyrant--she had that potential, even as a girl. Or she might have become merely a worked-out, worn-down pioneer woman, her beauty gone and her spirit tamed. He might look at her and not feel a thing--in which case he would lose something he treasure
d. On the other hand, he might look at her and feel all that he had felt in their younger days--in which case riding off and leaving her wouldn't be very easy.
Then there was Lorena. In the last weeks she had proved sweeter than any woman he had known--more responsive than his wives, kinder than Clara. Her beauty had flowered again--the cowboys were always thinking of excuses to ride within twenty or thirty yards of them, so they could get a glimpse of it. He ought to consider himself lucky, he knew--everyone in the outfit, with the possible exception of Call, considered him lucky. He ought to let the past keep its glow and not try to mix it with what he had in the present.
Larry McMurtry - Lonesome Dove Page 84