Lonesome Dove Part 18

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 h.e.l.l b.i.t.c.h 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 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. 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 p.r.o.nounced ill effects. Young Sean had difficulty with the peppers. He could not eat the beans without weeping, but, with all the work, his appet.i.te 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 a.s.sumed 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 p.r.i.c.kly 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.

"h.e.l.lo, 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 n.o.body 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 companeros companeros," 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."

"h.e.l.l, 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 b.u.mp," 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.

"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 a.s.s 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 G.o.d," 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 b.u.mping 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. "G.o.dd.a.m.n 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 gra.s.s, 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 p.r.o.ne 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 b.a.s.t.a.r.d," 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 b.a.s.t.a.r.d, 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 pa.s.s 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 wh.o.r.e. Dish, he knew, was particularly riled, though Dish never said much when the other boys were talking about it.

"h.e.l.l," 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 wh.o.r.es," 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 wh.o.r.es 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 wh.o.r.es, 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 gave 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 n.o.body 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.