Lonesome Dove Read online

  "I doubt she'll want to spend no time in San Antonio," Augustus said. "That's where she was before she came here, and women don't like to go backwards. Most women will never back up an inch their whole lives."

  "I can't see that it's any of your affair what we do," Jake said. "I guess she'd go to San Antonio if I say to. If she don't, she'll just get left."

  "Bring her on the drive," Augustus said. "She might like Montany. Or if she gets tired of looking at the ass end of these cows, you could always stop in Denver."

  It was something, the talent Gus had for saying the very thing that a man might have been half thinking. Jake had more than once considered Denver, regretted more than once that he hadn't stopped there instead of going to Fort Smith. Going along with a drive would be a good enough way to get back to Denver. Of course, that didn't settle the question of Lorie, exactly.

  "You know as well as I do Call would never allow no woman in this camp," he said. It was surprising that Gus would even suggest such a thing.

  "Call ain't God," Augustus said. "He don't have to get his way every day of the month. If she was my sweetheart, I'd bring her, and if he didn't like it he could bite himself."

  "You couldn't afford her, Gus, no better card player than you are," Jake said, standing up. "I believe I'll go to town. I don't feel like bumping around Mexico tonight."

  Without another word he got his horse and left. Call watched him go and walked back over to Gus. "Do you think he'll come on the drive?" he asked.

  "Not unless you let him bring his girl," Augustus said.

  "Why, is Jake that crazy?" Call asked. "Does he want to bring that girl?"

  "It never occurred to him, but it has now," Augustus said. "I invited her."

  Call was impatient to get off, but Gus's remark stopped him. Gus was never one to do the usual, but this was stretching things, even for him.

  "You done what?"

  "Told him he ought to bring Lorie along," Augustus said. "She'd improve the company."

  "I won't have it," Call said at once. "Goddamn you. You know better than that."

  "Ain't you late for work?" Augustus asked. "I can't enjoy the night for all this jabbering."

  Call decided it was some joke. Even Gus wouldn't go that far. "I'm going," he said. "You watch this end."

  Augustus lay back, his head against his saddle. It was a clear night, the stars just beginning to appear. Needle, Bert, Pea, Deets and Dish were waiting to go to Mexico. The rest of the boys were holding the herd. Bol was peeing on the campfire, causing it to sputter. Call turned his horse and rode toward the river.

  19

  NEWT'S MIND had begun to dwell on the north for long stretches. Particularly at night, when he had nothing to do but ride slowly around and around the herd, listening to the small noises the bedded cattle made, or the sad singing of the Irishmen, he thought of the north, trying to imagine what it must be like. He had grown up with the sun shining, with mesquite and chaparral, armadillos and coyotes, Mexicans and the shallow Rio Grande. Only once had he been to a city: San Antonio. Deets had taken him on one of his banking trips, and Newt had been in a daze from all there was to see.

  Once, too, he had gone with Deets and Pea to deliver a small bunch of horses to Matagorda Bay, and had seen the great gray ocean. Then, too, he had felt dazed, staring at the world of water.

  But even the sight of the ocean had not stirred him so much as the thought of the north. All his life he had heard talk of the plains that had no end, and of Indians and buffalo and all the creatures that lived on them. Mr. Gus had even talked of great bears, so thick that bullets couldn't kill them, and deerlike creatures called elk, twice the size of ordinary deer.

  Now, in only a few days, he would be going north, a prospect so exciting that for hours at a stretch he was taken away from himself, into imaginings. He continued to do his normal work, although his mind wasn't really on it. He could imagine himself and Mouse out in a sea of grass, chasing buffalo. He could scare himself to the point where his breath came short, just imagining the great thick bears.

  Before the Irishmen had been there a week, he had made friends with Sean O'Brien. At first the conversation was one-sided, for Sean was full of worries and prone to talking a blue streak; once he found that Newt would listen and not make fun of him, the talk gushed out, most of it homesick talk. He missed his dead mother and said over and over again that he would not have left Ireland if she hadn't died. He would cry immediately at the thought of his mother, and when Newt revealed that his mother was also dead, the friendship became closer.

  "Did you have a pa?" Newt asked one day, as they were resting by the river after a stretch of branding.

  "Yes, I had one, the bastard," Sean said grimly. "He only came home when he was a mind to beat us."

  "Why would he beat you?" Newt asked.

  "He liked to," Sean said. "He was a bastard, Pa. Beat Ma and all of us whenever he could catch us. We laid for him once and was gonna brain him with a shovel, but he was a lucky one. The night was dark and we never seen him."

  "What happened to him?" Newt asked.

  "Ha, the drunkard," Sean said. "He fell down a well and drownded. Saved us killing him and going to jail, I guess."

  Newt had always missed having a father, but the fact that Sean spoke so coldly of his put the matter in a different light. Perhaps he was not so unlucky, after all.

  He was riding around the herd when Jake Spoon trotted past on his way to Lonesome Dove.

  "Going to town, Jake?" Newt asked.

  "Yes, I think I will," Jake said. He didn't stop to pass the time; in a second he was out of sight in the shadows. It made Newt's spirits fall a little, for Jake had seldom said two words to him since he came back. Newt had to admit that Jake was not much interested in him, or the rest of them either. He gave the impression of not exactly liking anything around the Hat Creek outfit.

  Listening to the talk around the campfire at night, Newt learned that the cowboys were unanimously hostile to Jake for fixing it so that Lorena was no longer a whore. Dish, he knew, was particularly riled, though Dish never said much when the other boys were talking about it.

  "Hell," Needle said, "there never was but one thing worth doing on this border, and now a man can't even do that."

  "A man can do it plenty over in Mexico," Bert observed. "Cheaper too."

  "That's what I like about you, Bert," Augustus said, as he whittled a mesquite twig into a toothpick. "You're a practical man."

  "No, he just likes them brown whores," Needle said. Needle kept a solemn look on his face at all times, seldom varying his expression.

  "Gus, I've heard it said you had a fancy for that woman yourself," Jasper Fant said. "I wouldn't have suspected it in a man as old as you."

  "What would you know about anything, Jasper?" Augustus asked. "Age don't slow a man's whoring. It's lack of income that does that. No more prosperous than you look, I wouldn't think you'd know much about it."

  "We oughtn't to talk this way around these young boys," Bert said. "I doubt a one of 'em's even had a poke, unless it was at a milk cow."

  A general laugh went up.

  "These young uns will have to wait until we get to Ogallala," Augustus said. "I've heard it's the Sodom of the plains."

  "If it's worse than Fort Worth I can't wait to get there," Jasper said. "I've heard there's whores you can marry for a week, if you stay in town that long."

  "It won't matter how long we stay," Augustus said. "I'll have skinned all you boys of several years' wages before we get that far. I'd skin you out of a month or two tonight, if somebody would break out the cards."

  That was all it took to get a game started. Apart from telling stories and speculating about whores, it seemed to Newt the cowboys would rather play cards than anything. Every night, if there were as many as four who weren't working, they'd spread a saddle blanket near the campfire and play for hours, mostly using their future wages as money. Already the debts which existed were so complicated it gav
e Newt a headache to think about them. Jasper Fant had lost his saddle to Dish Boggett, only Dish was letting him keep it and use it.

  "A man dumb enough to bet his saddle is dumb enough to eat gourds," Mr. Gus had said when he heard about that bet.

  "I have et okra," Jasper replied, "but I have never yet et no gourd."

  So far neither Newt nor the Rainey or Spettle boys had been allowed to play. The men felt it would be little short of criminal to bankrupt young men at the outset of their careers. But sometimes when nobody was using the deck, Newt borrowed it and he and the others played among themselves. Sean O'Brien joined in. They usually played for pebbles, since none of them had any money.

  Talking to Sean had made Newt curious about Ireland. Sean said the grass was thick as a carpet there. The description didn't help much for Newt had never seen a carpet. The Hat Creek outfit possessed no rugs of any kind, or anything that was green. Newt had a hard time imagining how a whole country could be covered with green grass.

  "What do you do in Ireland?" he asked.

  "Mostly dig spuds," Sean said.

  "But aren't there horses and cows?" Newt asked.

  Sean thought for a moment, but could only remember about a dozen cows in the vicinity of his village, which was near the sea. He had slept beside their own old milk cow on many a cold night, but he figured if he tried to lie down beside one of the animals they called cows in America the cow would be fifty miles away before he got to sleep.

  "There are cows," he said, "but you don't find them in bunches. There'd be no place to put them."

  "What do you do with all the grass then?" Newt asked.

  "Why, nothing," Sean said. "It just grows."

  The next morning, while helping Deets and Pea build the branding fires, Newt mentioned that Sean said he brought his milk cow into the house and slept with her. Deets had a good laugh at the thought of a cow in a house. Pea stopped working for about ten minutes while he thought the matter over. Pea never liked to give his opinion too quickly.

  "It wouldn't work around the Captain," he said finally, that being his opinion,

  "How long do you think it will take us to get up north?" Newt asked Deets, the acknowledged expert on times and distances.

  Though he had laughed about the cow in the house, Deets had not been his usual cheerful self for the last few days. He felt a change coming. They were leaving Lonesome Dove, where life had been quiet and steady, and Deets could not understand the reason for it. The Captain was not prone to rash moves — and yet it seemed rash to Deets to just pick up and go north. Usually when he thought about the Captain's decisions he agreed with him, but this time he couldn't. He was going, but he felt uneasy in his mind. He remembered one thing the Captain had drilled into them many times during the rangering years: that a good start made for a good campaign.

  Now, it seemed to him, the Captain had forgotten his own rule. Jake Spoon came home one day, and the next day the Captain was ready to go, with a crew that was just a patched-together bunch, a lot of wild cattle, and horses most of which were only half broke. Besides that, it was nearly April, late to be starting out to go so far. He had been on the plains in summer and seen how quickly the water holes dried up.

  Deets felt a foreboding, a sense that they were starting on a hard journey to a far place. And now here was the boy, too excited about the prospect to keep his mind on the work.

  "Chop them sticks," Deets said. "Don't be worrying about the time. It'll be fall, I expect, before we get there."

  Deets watched the boy, hoping he wouldn't chop his foot off cutting the wood. He knew how to handle an ax, but he was forgetful once he got his mind on something. He didn't stop working, he just worked absently, thinking about something else.

  They were friends, though, he and Newt. The boy was young and had all his hopes, while Deets was older and had fewer. Newt sometimes asked so many questions that Deets had to laugh — he was like a cistern, from which questions flowed instead of water. Some Deets answered and some he didn't. He didn't tell Newt all he knew. He didn't tell him that even when life seemed easy, it kept on getting harder. Deets liked his work, liked being part of the outfit and having his name on the sign; yet he often felt sad. His main happiness consisted of sitting with his back against the water tank at night, watching the sky and the changing moon.

  He had known several men who blew their heads off, and he had pondered it much. It seemed to him it was probably because they could not take enough happiness just from the sky and the moon to carry them over the low feelings that came to all men.

  Those feelings hadn't come to the boy yet. He was a good boy, as gentle as the gray doves that came to peck for gravel on the flats behind the barn. He would try to do any task that was asked of him, and if he worried overmuch it was that he wasn't good enough at his work to please the Captain. But then the whole outfit worried about that — all, at least, except Mr. Gus. Deets himself had fallen short a few times over the years and had felt the Captain's displeasure afflict him like a bruise.

  "I swan," Pea said, "Jake's slipped off again. He sure don't take to branding."

  "Mr. Jake, he don't take to work," Deets said with a chuckle. "It don't have to be branding."

  Newt went on chopping wood, a little bothered by the fact that Jake had such a bad reputation with the men. They all considered him to be a man who shirked his duties. Mr. Gus worked even less and nobody seemed to feel that way about him. It was puzzling and, to Newt's mind, unfair. Jake had just returned. Once he got rested, perhaps he would be more interested in the work.

  While he was puzzling about it, he took a bad swing with the ax and a piece of mesquite he was trying to split flew right up and almost hit Deets in the head. It would have, except that Deets had evidently been expecting just such an accident. He quickly ducked. Newt was embarrassed — at the moment he had made his slip, his mind had drifted to Lorena. He was wondering what spending a day with her would actually be like. Would they just sit in the saloon playing cards, or what? Since he had not spoken to her, it was hard for him to know what the two of them could do for a whole day, but he liked to think about it.

  Deets didn't say a word or even look at Newt accusingly, but Newt was still mortified. There were times when Deets seemed almost to be able to read his mind; what would he think if he knew he had been thinking about Lorena?

  After that, he reminded himself that Lorena was Jake's woman, and tried to pay better attention to splitting the tough wood.

  20

  THE MINUTE Jake stepped in the door of the Dry Bean Lorena saw that he was in a sulk. He went right over to the bar and got a bottle and two glasses. She was sitting at a table, piddling with a deck of cards. It was early in the evening and no one was around except Lippy and Xavier, which was a little surprising. Usually three or four of the Hat Creek cowboys would be there by that time.

  Lorena watched Jake closely for a few minutes to see if she was the cause of his sulk. After all, she had sold Gus the poke that very afternoon — it was not impossible that Jake had found out, some way. She was not one who expected to get away with much in life. If you did a thing hoping a certain person wouldn't find out, that person always did. When Gus tricked her and she gave him the poke, she was confident the matter would get back to Jake eventually. Lippy was only human, and things that happened to her got told and repeated. She didn't exactly want Jake to know, but she wasn't afraid of him, either. He might hit her, or he might shoot Gus: she found she couldn't easily predict him, which was one reason she didn't care if he found out. After that, she would know him a lot better, whatever he did.

  But when he sat down at the table and set a glass in front of her she soon realized it was not her who had put the tight look in his face. She saw nothing unfriendly in his eyes. She took a sip or two of whiskey, and about that time Lippy came over and sat down at the table with them as if he'd been invited.

  "Well, you've come in by yourself, I see," Lippy said, pushing his dirty bowler back off his w
rinkled forehead.

  "I did, and by God I intend to be by myself," Jake said irritably. He got up and without another word took his bottle and glass and headed for the stairs.

  It put her out of sorts with Lippy, for it was still hot in her room and she would rather have stayed in the saloon, where there was at least a breath of breeze.

  But with Jake so out of sorts there was nothing to do but go upstairs. She gave Lippy a cool look as she got up, which surprised him so it made his lip drop.

  "Why air you looking at me that way?" he asked. "I never tolt on you."

  Lorena didn't answer. A look was better than words, where Lippy was concerned.

  Then, the very minute she got in the room, Jake decided he wanted a poke, and in a hurry. He had drunk a half glass of whiskey while he was climbing the stairs, and a big shot of whiskey nearly always made him want it. He was dusty as could be from a day with the cattle, and would usually have waited for a bath, or at least washed the grit off his face and hands in the washbasin, but this time he didn't wait. He even tried to kiss her with his hat on, which didn't work at all. His hat was as dusty as the rest of him. The dust got in her nose and made her sneeze. His haste was unusual — he was a picky man, apt to complain if the sheets weren't clean enough to suit him.

  But this time he didn't seem to notice that dust was sifting out of his clothes onto the floor. When he opened his pants and pulled his shirttail out a little trickle of sand came with it. The night was stifling and Jake so sandy that by the time he got through there was so much dirt in the bed that they might as well have been wallowing around on the ground. There were little lines of mud on her belly where sweat had caked the dust. She didn't resent it, particularly — it was better than smoke pots and mosquitoes.

  It was only when Jake sat up to reach for his whiskey bottle that he noticed the dust.