"I told you the reason," Lorena said. "Jake takes care of me now," she added.
"No he don't," Gus said. "You take care of him."
It was the very truth Lorena had discovered for herself, and it stumped her that Gus would not only know it but come right out with it as if it were an ordinary fact.
"Jake Spoon has never taken care of nobody," Gus said. "Not even himself. He's the world's child, and the main point about him is that he'll always find somebody to take care of him. It used to be me and Call, but right now it's you. That's fine and good, but it's no reason you should go out of business entirely. You can sell me a poke and still take care of Jake."
Lorena knew that was true, as far as it went. Jake was not hard to take care of, and probably not hard to fool. It wouldn't enter his head that she would sell a poke, now that she had him. He had plenty of pride and not a little vanity. It was one of the things she liked about him. Jake thought well of his looks; he was not a dressy man, like Tinkersley, but he nonetheless took pains with his appearance and knew that women fancied him. She had never seen him mad, but she knew he would not like anyone to make light of him.
"I believe he'd shoot the man that touches me," she said.
"I believe it too," Lippy said. "Jake's mighty partial to Lorie."
"Hell, you're partial to her yourself," Gus said. "We're all partial to her. But Jake ain't exactly a killer."
"He killed that man in Arkansas," Lorena said.
Augustus shrugged. "He fired off a buffalo gun and the bullet happened to hit a dentist," he said. "I don't call that no crime of passion."
Lorena didn't like it that Gus acted like Jake wasn't much. He had a reputation for being a cool man in a fight.
"He kilt that bandit," Lippy said. "Hit him right in the Adam's apple, I've heard."
"The truth of that is, the bandit rode into the bullet," Augustus said. "He was unlucky, like the dentist."
Lorena just sat. The situation was so unexpected that she could not think about it clearly. Of course she had no intention of going upstairs with Gus, but he couldn't just be scared off with a look like some cowboy. Gus was not afraid of looks — or of Jake either, it seemed.
"I'll give you fifty dollars," Gus said with a big grin.
Lippy nearly fell off his stool. He had never seen or imagined anything so rash. Fifty dollars for one poke? Then it occurred to him he would cheerfully give as much, if he had it, to get under Lorena's skirts. A man could always get more money, but there wasn't but one Lorie, not on the border, anyway.
"Hell, I would too," he said, just to register the offer.
"I didn't know you was so rich," Augustus said, a little amused.
"Well, I ain't now, but I might be," Lippy said. "Business is picking up."
"Pshaw," Augustus said. "Once we start the drive you'll be lucky to earn a nickel in a month."
Lorena decided her best out was to pretend to be frightened of Jake's vengeance, though now that she thought about it she knew Gus was probably right. She had met one or two men who were proven killers, and Jake didn't have their manner at all.
"I won't do it," she said. "He'll kill us if he finds out."
"How would he find out?" Gus asked.
"Lippy might tell him," she said.
Augustus looked at Lippy. It was true that the man was a dreadful gossip, and a gossip, moreover, who had scant materials to work with. It would not be easy for him to resist mentioning that he had heard a man offer fifty dollars for a poke.
"I'll give you ten dollars to keep your mouth shut," Augustus said. "And if you betray me I'll shoot another hole in your stomach."
"Gimme the ten," Lippy said, his astonishment growing. That made sixty dollars Gus would be spending. He had never heard of anyone spending such an amount on their pleasure, but then, so far as he knew, there was no one anywhere like Gus, a man who seemed to care nothing for money.
Gus handed over the money and Lippy pocketed it, knowing he had struck a bargain he had better keep, at least until Gus died. Gus was no one to fool with. He had seen several men try, usually over card games, and most all of them had got whacked over the head with Gus's big gun. Gus didn't shoot unless he had to, but he was not loath to whack a man. Lippy was dying to tell Xavier what he'd missed by going fishing, but he knew he had better postpone the pleasure for a few years. One hole in his stomach was enough.
Lorena felt her indignation growing. She was beginning to feel cornered, something she had not expected to have to feel again. Jake was supposed to have ended that, and yet he hadn't. Of course he probably never suspected his own friend would make such a move behind his back, and yet it still seemed negligent of him, for he knew Gus's ways.
"You can pay him if you want but I ain't going," she said. "Jake's my sweetheart."
"I ain't trying to cut him out," Augustus said. "I just want a poke."
Lorena felt her silence coming back. It was the only way to deal with such a situation. She sat for a few minutes, not talking, hoping he would go away. But it didn't work. He just sat and drank, perfectly friendly and in no hurry. Once she thought about it, the sum grew on her a little. It was something, to be offered fifty dollars. She would have thought it crazy in anyone except Gus, but Gus was clearly not crazy! In a way it was a big compliment that he would offer fifty dollars just for that.
"Go get a Mexican woman," she said. "Why waste your money?"
"Because you're my preference," Augustus said. "I'll tell you what, let's cut the cards. If you're high, I'll give you the money and forget the poke. If I'm high, I'll give you the money and you give me the poke."
Lorena thought she might as well. After all, it was just gambling, which was what Jake did. If she won it would all seem like a joke, something that Gus had cooked up to pass the time. Besides, she would have fifty dollars and could send to San Antonio for some new dresses, so Jake wouldn't be so critical of her wardrobe. She could tell him she beat Gus to the tune of fifty dollars, which would astonish him, since he played with Gus all the time and seldom won more than a few dollars.
Then, in a second, Gus beat her. She came up with a ten of spades, and him with the queen of hearts. It was her sense that he'd cheated, though she couldn't have said how. She had not realized before what a determined man he was. He had come in for a purpose and she had not been clever enough to head him off. He paid her the fifty dollars at once — it had not been a bluff. When he had had the poke and was dressing, she found that she felt pretty cheerful and was not in a mood to hurry him out. After all, Gus had paid her many visits and given her nothing to hold against him. The fifty dollars was flattering, and she rather liked it that she was his preference even though he was Jake's best friend. She had stopped feeling silent and was content to let him loll for a few minutes.
"Well, do you and Jake aim to marry?" he asked, looking at her cheerfully.
"He ain't mentioned it," she said. "He's taking me to San Francisco, though."
Augustus snorted. "I figured that was his game," he said.
"He promised," Lorena said. "I mean to hold him to it, Gus."
"You'll need my help then," Augustus said. "Jake is a slippery eel. The only way to keep him around is to chain him to a wagon."
"I can keep him around," Lorena said confidently.
"Oh, he fancies you," Augustus said. "But that don't mean he'll stay around. My guess is he'll use the drive as an excuse when the time comes."
"If he goes with it, then I'm going too," she said.
"Why, Lorie, you're welcome, as far as I'm concerned," Augustus said. "The problem is Call. He ain't very tolerant of women."
That was no news. Captain Call was one of the few men in the region who had never been to visit her. In fact, so far as she could remember, he had never been in the saloon.
"It's a free country, ain't it?" she said. "I guess I can go where I want."
Gus got off the bed and tucked his carrot back in his pants.
"It's not very free if you hap
pen to work for Call," he said.
"You think Lippy will tell on us?" she asked. To her surprise, she felt no guilt at all about operating behind Jake's back. So far as she was concerned she was still his sweetheart. It had happened only because Gus had been too quick for her in a card game — it didn't affect the situation one way or another.
"He won't tell," Augustus said. "Lippy's got more sense than you might think. What he figures is that if he keeps quiet he might make another ten dollars sometime. Which is right. He might."
"Well, not unless we play a hand," Lorena said. "I don't trust your cut."
Augustus grinned. "A man who wouldn't cheat for a poke don't want one bad enough," he said as he took his hat.
18
AUGUSTUS RODE BACK to camp a little after sunset, thinking the work would have stopped by then. The cattle were being held in a long valley near the river, some five miles from town. Every night Call went across the river with five or six hands and came back with two or three hundred Mexican cattle — longhorns mostly, skinny as rails and wild as deer. Whatever they got they branded the next day, with the part of the crew that had rested doing the hard end of the work. Only Call worked both shifts. If he slept, it was an hour or two before breakfast or after supper. The rest of the time he worked, and so far as anyone could tell the pace agreed with him. He had taken to riding the Hell Bitch two days out of three, and the mare seemed no more affected by the work than he was.
Bolivar had not taken kindly to being moved to a straggly camp out in the brush, with no dinner bell to whack or crowbar to whack it with. He kept his ten-gauge near the chuck box and scowled at everybody. The Irishmen were so intimidated that they were always the last ones in line. As a consequence they got little to eat and were no longer as fat as they had been the day they arrived.
It seemed the Irishmen were part of the outfit, though. Their total inexperience was offset by an energy and a will to learn that impressed even Call. He let them stay in the first place, because he was so short-handed he couldn't afford to turn away any willing hand. By the time more competent men arrived the Irishmen had gotten over their fear of horses and worked with a will. Not being cowboys, they had no prejudice against working on the ground. Once shown the proper way to throw a roped animal, they cheerfully flung themselves on whatever the ropers drug up to the branding fire, even if it was a two-year-old bull with lots of horn and a mean disposition. They had no great finesse, but they were dogged, and would eventually get the creature down.
This willingness to work on the ground was indispensable, for most cowboys would rather eat poison than be forced to dismount. They all fancied themselves ropers, and swelled like toads if asked to do work they considered beneath their dignity.
Since there were few goats to steal near the camp, Bol's menus relied heavily on beef, with the usual admixture of beans. He had brought along a sack of chilies, and he dumped them liberally into his beans, feeling free to augment the dish with pieces of whatever varmints strayed into his path — rattlesnakes mostly, with an occasional armadillo.
For several days the crew ate the fiery beans without complaint, only the Irishmen showing pronounced ill effects. Young Sean had difficulty with the peppers. He could not eat the beans without weeping, but, with all the work, his appetite raged to such a point that he could not avoid the beans. He ate them and wept. Most of the crew liked the boy and had decided to treat his frequent weepings as simply a mild aberration, related in some way to his nationality.
Then one day Jasper Fant caught Bolivar skinning a rattlesnake. He assumed Bolivar was merely going to make himself a rattlesnake belt, but he happened to turn around as Bol sliced the snake right into the stewpot, a sight which agitated him greatly. He had heard that people ate snake but had never expected to do so himself. When he told the other hands what he had seen they were so aroused that they wanted to hang Bolivar on the spot, or at least rope him and drag him through the prickly pear to improve his manners. But when they approached Augustus with the information about the snake, he laughed at them.
"You boys must have been raised on satin pillows," he said. "If you'd rangered you'd have got a taste for snake long ago."
He then proceeded to give them a lecture on the culinary properties of rattlesnake — a lecture that Jasper, for one, received rather stiffly. It might be superior to chicken, rabbit and possum, as Gus claimed, but that didn't mean he wanted to eat it. His visits to the stewpot became a source of irritation to everyone; he would fish around in the pot for several minutes, seeking portions of meat that he could feel confident hadn't come from a snake. Such delicacy exacerbated the rest of the crew, who were usually so hungry by suppertime that they could ill abide waits.
Call and Jake rode in while Augustus was eating. The sight of Gus with his plate full put Jake in a low temper, since he himself had handled branding irons all day while Gus had amused himself in town and stayed fresh. They had branded over four hundred cattle since sunup, enough to make Jake wish he had never brought up the notion of taking cattle to Montana.
"Hello, girls," Augustus said. "You look like you've done a heavy laundry. Wait till I finish my beef and I'll help you off your horses."
"I don't want off mine," Jake said. "Hand me a plate and I'll eat on the way to town."
Call felt irritated. It was the first full day Jake had put in since the work started, and mostly he had lazed through it.
"Why? Must you go?" he asked, trying to keep it mild. "We're going to make our last drag tonight. We have to get started, you know."
Jake dismounted and walked over to the grub, pretending he hadn't heard. He didn't want an argument with Call if he could avoid one. In truth, he had not been thinking very far ahead since drifting back to Lonesome Dove. He had often thought of the fortune that could be made in cattle in Montana, but then a man could think of a fortune without actually having to go and make one. The only good thing to be said for trailing cattle that far north was that it beat hanging in Arkansas, or rotting in some jail.
Then there was Lorie. So far she hadn't had a single fit, but that didn't mean she wouldn't if she found out he was leaving. On the other hand, he couldn't very well take her — no one in his memory had ever tried to bring a woman into one of Call's camps.
It was all vexing, having decisions to make, and yet having no time to think them through. He got himself a hunk of beef and some of the old Mexican's peppery stew and went back to where Call and Gus were sitting. He felt distinctly irritated with Call — the man never seemed to need any of the things other humans needed, like sleep or women. Life for Call was work, and he seemed to think everyone else ought to see it the same way.
"Why, Jake, you look plumb grumpy," Augustus said, when Jake sat down and began to eat. "Honest work don't agree with you, I guess."
"No, I'm about as cooked as this beef," Jake said.
Newt and the two Irishmen were holding the herd. The Irishmen were particularly good night herders because they could sing; their melodies seemed to soothe the cattle. In fact, the whole camp enjoyed the Irish singing. Newt couldn't sing a lick, but he had rapidly developed into such a skilled cowhand that Call felt a little guilty for having held him back so long.
"I'm sure partial to the evening," Augustus said. "The evening and the morning. If we just didn't have to have the rest of the dern day I'd be a lot happier."
"If we have a good drag tonight we can start north on Monday," Call said. "How does that suit you, Jake?"
"Oh, fine," Jake said. "But you boys don't have to try and suit me with your drive. I've been thinking of spending some time in San Antonio."
"That's a big disappointment," Augustus said. "It's a long way to Montany. I was counting on you to keep up the conversation."
"Well, count agin," Jake said, deciding on the spot that he wouldn't go.
Call knew there was no point in reminding Jake that the whole drive had been his idea. The man was willful as a child in some respects. Show him what he ought to do
and he would dig in his heels and refuse. It was particularly irritating in this instance, because nobody in the outfit had ever been farther north than Kansas. Jake knew the country and could be a big help.
"Jake, we wish you'd come," he said. "We were relying on you to help us choose the route."
"No, Jake don't like to help his compañeros," Augustus said. "He's got his own fancies to cultivate. The fact that he caused all this don't mean a thing to him." .
"Did I cause it?" Jake asked, trying to keep the talk light.
"Of course you caused it," Augustus said. "Who was it said Montana is a cowman's paradise?"
"Well, it is," Jake said.
"Then you should have picked a cattleman to mention it to," Augustus said. "Not two old laws like us."
"Hell, you're cattlemen now," Jake said. "All it takes is cows."
"Are you aiming to marry Lorie?" Augustus asked, changing his tack.
"Marry her?" Jake asked, astonished. "Why would I marry her?"
"You could do worse," Augustus said. "An old scamp like you's apt to break down any time. It would be nice to have a young woman to rub your back and bring you soup."
"I ain't near as old as you," Jake reminded him. "Why don't you marry her?" It was talk he didn't care to hear.
Swift Bill Spettle had let a horse kick him that morning and had a knot on his forehead as big as a goose egg.
"You best let Bol rub some ointment on that bump," Call suggested. The Spettle boys were mighty green, but they were not afraid to work.
Call got up and went to get his supper. As soon as he left, Augustus stretched his legs and grinned at Jake.
"I played a hand with Lorie this afternoon," he said. "I believe you've made her restless, Jake."
"How's that?"
"She does seem to be looking forward to San Francisco," Augustus said.
Jake felt himself getting more and more peevish. Lorena should have known better than to play cards with Gus, or even to talk to him, though she could hardly be blamed for listening. It was well known that Gus would talk to a stump if he couldn't find a human.
Lonesome Dove Page 22