“Here, take him, I just helping him up,” he said. Only then he saw it was too late—the young man couldn’t stop coming and couldn’t stop hating, either. His eyes were wild with hatred. Deets felt a deep regret that he should be hated so by this thin boy when he meant no harm. He tried to sidestep, hoping to gain a moment so he could set the baby down and wrestle with the Indian and maybe calm him.
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“Hush now,” Deets said. “You a mess. You done rolled in all that blood.” At that moment there was a wild yell from the tepees and Deets looked up to see one of the young braves rushing toward him. He was the one who had picked up the rifle, but he had discarded the rifle and was charging with an old lance, crying his battle cry. Deets held out the baby and smiled—the young man, no older than Newt, didn’t need to cry any battle cry.
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“Well, he’s mighty fond of that horse,” he said. “And she might kill him yet.” “She ain’t gonna kill the Captain,” Deets said. He had the sad sense that things were not right. It seemed they were going to go north forever, and he couldn’t think why. Life had been orderly and peaceful in Texas. He himself had particularly enjoyed his periodic trips to San Antonio to deposit money. Texas had always been their country, and it was a puzzle to him why they were going to a country that would probably be so wild there wouldn’t even be banks to take money to.
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“It’s a miracle, ain’t it, when one grows up nice,” Clara said. “He’s got a quiet way, that boy. I like that. It’s surprising to find gentle behavior when his father is Captain Call.” “Oh, Newt don’t know Call’s his father,” Augustus said. “I expect he’s heard hints, but he don’t know it.” “And Call don’t claim him, when anybody can see it?” Clara said, shocked. “I never had much opinion of Call, and now I have less.” “Call don’t like to admit mistakes,” Augustus said. “It’s his way.” “What mistake?” Clara said. “I wouldn’t call it a mistake if I raised a boy that nice. My Jimmy had wildness in him. I couldn’t handle him, though he died when he was eight. I expect he’d have ended like Jake. Now where’d it come from? I ain’t wild, and Bob ain’t wild.” “I don’t know,” Augustus said.
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Augustus trotted the few steps to the blacksmith shop and dropped a loop over Call’s shoulders. Then he turned the horse away, took a wrap around the saddle horn, and began to ride up the street. Call wouldn’t turn loose of Dixon at first. He hung on and dragged him a few feet from the anvil. But Augustus kept the rope tight and held the horse in a walk. Finally Call let the man drop, though he turned with a black, wild look and started for whoever had roped him, not realizing who the man was. The skin was torn completely off his knuckles from the blows he had dealt Dixon, but he was lost in his anger and his only thought was to get the next assailant. It was in him to kill—he didn’t know if Dixon was dead, but he would make sure of the next man.
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“Wake up, Boot,” he said. “You got visitors.” The sleeping man immediately sprang up with a wild look. Ellie saw that it was him, although he hardly looked like the dapper man she remembered. He glanced at the window fearfully, then just stood and stared.
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“Help me, boys,” she said. “I’m real cold.” Zwey immediately handed the reins to Luke and went back to help cover her up. It was a warm night, but Ellie was still shivering. He put the blankets on her, but she didn’t stop shivering. On the wagon seat, Luke would laugh from time to time when he thought of Zwey’s baby. Before they had gone five miles, Ellie was delirious. She huddled in the blankets, talking to herself, mostly about the man called Dee Boot. Her look was so wild that Zwey became frightened. Once his hand happened to brush her and her skin was as hot as if the sun were burning down on her.
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“It comes from up there,” Po Campo said, pointing west. “From those mountains you can’t see.” Lorena looked but could only see the brown plain. She ate a few more of the wild plums.
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They crossed a little creek about noon. There were a few scraggly bushes growing along the line of the creek. Lorena didn’t pay them much attention, but Po Campo did. When the herd had moved on, he came walking over to her, his sack half full of wild plums.
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IT TOOK JULY only a day or two to determine that Elmira was not in Dodge City. The town was a shock to him, for almost every woman in it seemed to be a whore and almost every business a saloon. He kept trying to tell himself he shouldn’t be surprised, for he had heard for years that Kansas towns were wild. In Missouri, where he had gone to testify at the trial, there was much talk of Kansas. People in Missouri seemed to consider that they had gotten rid of all their riffraff to the cow towns. July quickly concluded that they were right. There might be rough elements in Missouri, but what struck him in Kansas was the absence of any elements that weren’t rough. Of course there were a few stores and a livery stable or two in Dodge—even a hotel of sorts, though the whores were in and out of the hotel so much that it seemed more like a whorehouse. Gamblers were thick in the saloons and he had never seen a place where as many people went armed.
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Zwey came back well before sundown with a wild turkey he had managed to shoot. But Luke wasn’t back. Elmira decided she might as well tell Zwey. She couldn’t tolerate any more of Luke. Zwey was mildly puzzled that Luke wasn’t there.
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“I’ve went with a nigger but never an Indian,” she said. “I’d like to try one.” The news about the nigger was a shock to Jake. He knew Sal was wild, but hadn’t supposed she was that wild. The look on her face frightened him a little.
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Newt saw that the cattle had crossed the wild Canadian, the river that had scared everybody, without much help from the cowboys, who were scattered here and there, naked, crouched under their saddles or, in some cases, their horses. It was a funny sight; Newt was so glad to be alive that suddenly he felt like laughing. Funniest of all was Pea Eye, who stood not thirty yards away, up to his neck in the river, with his hat on. He was just standing there calmly, waiting for the hail to stop.
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Newt saw that the cattle had crossed the wild Canadian, the river that had scared everybody, without much help from the cowboys, who were scattered here and there, naked, crouched under their saddles or, in some cases, their horses. It was a funny sight; Newt was so glad to be alive that suddenly he felt like laughing. Funniest of all was Pea Eye, who stood not thirty yards away, up to his neck in the river, with his hat on. He was just standing there calmly, waiting for the hail to stop.
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He had a little dream about the wild pigs, not too frightening. The pigs were not as wild as they had been in real life. They were just rooting around a cabin and not trying to harm him, yet he woke in a terrible fright and saw something incomprehensible. Janey was standing a few feet in front of him, with a big rock raised over her head. She was holding itwith both hands—why would she do such a thing at that time of night? She wasn’t making a sound; she just stood in front of him holding the rock. It was not until she flung it that he realized someone else was there. But someone was: someone big. In his surprise, Roscoe forgot he had a pistol. He quickly stood up. He didn’t see where the rock went, but Janey suddenly dropped to her knees. She looked around at him. “Shoot at him,” she said. Roscoe remembered the pistol, which was cocked, but before he could raise it, the big shadow that Janey had thrown the rock at slid close to him and shoved him—not a hard shove, but it made him drop the pistol. He knew he was awake and not dreaming, but he didn’t have any more strength than he would have had in a dream in terms of moving quick. He saw the big shadow standing by him but he had felt no fear, and the shadow didn’t shove him again. Roscoe felt warm and sleepy and sat back down. It was like he was in a warm bath. He hadn’t had too many warm baths in his life, but he felt like he was in one and was ready for a long snooze. Janey was crawling, though—crawling right over his legs. “Now what are you doing?” he said, before he saw that her eyes were fixed on the pistol he had dropped. She wanted the pistol, and for some reason crawled right over his legs to get to it. But before she got to it the shadow came back. “Why, you’re a fighter, ain’t you?” the shadow man said. “If I wasn’t in such a hurry I’d show you a trick or two.” Then he raised his arms and struck down at her; Roscoe couldn’t see if it was with an ax or what, but the sound was like an ax striking wood, and Janey stopped moving and lay across his legs. “Joe?” Roscoe said; he had just remembered that he had made Joe stop cocking and uncocking his rifle so he could get to sleep.
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When Roscoe pointed, she immediately went running off toward it. Roscoe could hardly believe his eyes—but she had always been a wild girl.
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Once when he was watching, some riders spotted a little herd of buffalo. The other hunters were wild to go after them, but Zwey wouldn’t go. They yelled at him and argued with him, but he just sat. Finally they went off without him. One hunter tried to borrow his gun, but Zwey wouldn’t give it up. He sat there with his big rifle across his lap, looking at Elmira.
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Though the Fort was nothing much to see, it was a busy place, with riders coming and going all the time. Watching them, Elmira wished she was a man so she could just buy a horse and ride away. The men let her alone, but they did look at her whenever she left her room. There were several wild-looking Mexicans who scared her worse than the buffalo hunters.
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It seemed to Joe that they rode past about fifty saloons, looking for the post office. Fort Smith only had three saloons and one livery stable, whereas Fort Worth had a big wagon yard and stores galore. They even met a small herd of wild-looking longhorn cattle being driven right through the streets by four equally wild-looking cowboys. The cattle, for all their wild looks, behaved so well that they didn’t get to see the cowboys actually rope one, a sight Joe longed to see.
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“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.
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“Think about it a minute,” Augustus said. “Suppose it all worked the other way, and men were the whores. You just walk into a saloon and jingle your money and buy anyone you wanted. And he’d have to take his clothes off and do what you said to.” “I never seen one I wanted,” Lorena said. “’Cept Jake, and that didn’t last any time.” “I know it’s hard to think about,” Augustus said. “You been the one wanted all this time. Just suppose it was the opposite and you could buy what you wanted in the way of a man.” Lorena decided Gus was the craziest man she had ever known. He didn’t look crazy, but his notions were wild.“Suppose I was a whore,” he said. “I’ve always figured I’d make a good one. If you win this hand I’ll give you a free poke and all you’ll have to figure out is how to enjoy it.” “I wouldn’t enjoy it,” Lorena said. She had never enjoyed it, and it would take more than Gus’s talk to change her opinion.
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At times, waiting, she had almost decided just to take the horse and the mule and try to find her way back to Lonesome Dove. Xavier had said he would marry her and take her anywhere she wanted to go. She remembered the day he had come into the room—his wild eyes, his threat to kill Jake. When she had nothing to do but sit around and think about it, her capacity for mistakes discouraged her so that she considered drowning herself in the little pool. But it was a sunny, pretty morning, and when she went into the pool a little later, it was only to wash her hair in the cool water. For a moment she put her head under and opened her eyes, but it felt silly—to die in such an element was only ridiculous. She began to wonder if perhaps she was touched—if that was why she made mistakes. Her mother had been touched. She often babbled of people no one knew. She talked to dead relatives, dead babies, speaking to them as if they were still alive. Lorena wondered if it was mistakes that had made her mother do that. Perhaps, after so many mistakes, your mind finally broke loose and wandered back and forth between past and present.
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A mile or two along in the day, Memphis began to grow restive, flicking his ears and looking around. Roscoe looked, but saw nothing. The country was pretty heavily wooded. Roscoe thought maybe a wolf was following them, or possibly some wild pigs, but he could spot nothing. They covered five or six miles at a leisurely pace.
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“No, I just keep ’em to control the bugs,” Louisa said. “I ate enough chicken in Alabama to last me a lifetime.” Roscoe felt plenty nervous. The question of sleeping arrangements could not be postponed much longer. He had looked forward briefly to sleeping in the cabin, where he would feel secure from snakes and wild pigs, but that hope was dashed.
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“No, we didn’t get on,” Louisa said. “He drank whiskey and talked the Bible too, and I like a man that does one thing or the other. I told him once he could fall dead for all I care, and it wasn’t three weeks before the fool just did it.” Though Roscoe had been hopeful of staying the night, he was beginning to lose his inclination. Louisa Brooks was almost as scary as wild pigs, in his view. The mules drug the stump over to where the others were and Roscoe walked over and helped Louisa untie it.
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