Deets had ridden on, to evaluate the trail. They overtook him a few hours later. His face was sad.
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The Kansas sky was thickly seeded with stars. He listened to the Irishman sing the sad songs that seemed to soothe the cattle. He spent the whole night thinking about the woman in the tent nearby, imagining things that might happen when they finally came to Montana and were through with the trail. He didn’t sleep, or want to sleep, for there was no telling when he would get a chance to spend another night close to her. His horse grazed nearby on the good grass, which grew wet with dew as the morning came.
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They soon struck Wilbarger’s trail and followed it west through the sunset and the long dusk. The trail led northwest toward the Arkansas, easy to follow even in the twilight. Dan Suggs never slowed. They struck the river and swam it by moonlight. Jake hated to ride sopping wet, but was offered no choice, for Dan Suggs didn’t pause. Nobody said a word when they came to the river; nobody said one afterward. The moon was well over in the west before Dan Suggs drew rein.
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The dust their running horses kicked up was turned golden by the sun. No doubt they were just off the trail and couldn’t wait for a taste of Dodge—the very taste he had just vomited up. The last sunlight filtered through the settling dust behind the cowboys’ horses.
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“Yes, have a drink,” he said. “I’m running up a bill.” Jennie sat down and waved at the bartender, who immediately appeared with a bottle. “This one’s drinking like a fish,” he said cheerfully. “I guess it’s been a long, dry trail.” July suddenly remembered why he was waiting to see the girl named Jennie.
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The next day they rode on to Doan’s Store, on the banks of the Red River, and stopped to buy whiskey and consider their route. A trail herd was crossing the river a mile or more to the west.
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“They ain’t supposed to fight us no more,” he said. “Gus claims the government paid ’em to stop.” “Yes, but whoever heard of an Indian doing what he was supposed to do?” Lippy said. “Maybe some of them consider that they wasn’t paid enough.” “What would you know?” Jasper inquired. “When did you ever see an Indian?” “I seen plenty,” Lippy informed him. “What do you think made this hole in my stomach? An Apache Indian made that hole.” “Apache?” Dish said. “Where did you find an Apache?” “West of Santa Fe,” Lippy said. “I traded in them parts, you know. That’s where I learned to play the piano.” “I wouldn’t be surprised if you forget how before we come to a place that’s got one,” Pea Eye said. He found himself more and more depressed by the prospect of endless plains. Normally, in his traveling days, he had ridden through one kind of country for a while and then come to another kind of country. It had even been true on the trail drive: first there had been brush, then the limestone hills, then some different brush, and then the plains. But after that there had just been more and more plains, and no end in sight that he could see. Once or twice he asked Deets how soon they could expect to come to the end of them, for Deets was the acknowledged expert on distances, but this time Deets had to admit he was stumped. He didn’t know how long the plains went on. “Over a thousand, I guess,” he said.
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“Did you come from California, or where?” the trail boss asked. He was an old white-mustached man named Johns, suspicious at first. Not many men came walking out of Texas. But July soon persuaded the old man to sell him a horse. It was the worst horse in the remuda, but it was a horse. July gave forty dollars for it. The Johns outfit had no saddle to spare, but they did give him directions. They tried to get him to stay the night with them—they had been on the trail six weeks and a stranger was a welcome novelty.
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Dan Suggs was not pleased with the conversation, either. “I thought you might be a man with some gumption,” he said. “I see I was wrong.” “I can supply enough gumption,” Jake said. “But I don’t ride with inexperienced men. If you think you can ride up to Call and McCrae and collect money from ’em with a few threats, then you’re too inexperienced for me.” Dan was silent for a bit. “Well, they’re just one bunch,” he said. “There are plenty of other herds on the trail.” “That’s right,” Jake said. “If I was you I’d try to regulate some of the ones that ain’t been led by Texas Rangers.” Roy and Ed looked at him hostilely. They didn’t like hearing it suggested that they weren’t up to the job. But Dan Suggs was a cooler man. After they’d played some cards and worked through a bottle of whiskey he admitted that the regulating scheme was something he’d just thought up.
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“Spoon, how’d you like to be a regulator?” he asked a little later. “I recall from stories I’ve heard that you can shoot a gun.” “What is a regulator?” Jake asked. “I’ve not heard the term.” “Folks up in Kansas are getting tired of these Texas cattle tramping in constantly,” Dan said. “They want this trail-driving business regulated.” “Regulated how?” “Well, taxed,” Dan said. “People can’t go on driving cattle just anywhere. If they want to cross certain rivers at certain crossings, they’ve got to pay for the privilege. If they won’t pay in cash, then they’ve got to pay in cattle.” “Is it the law in Kansas, or what?” Jake asked.
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“I miss Gus,” Pea Eye said. “I get to expecting to hear him talk and he ain’t here. My ears sort of get empty.” Call had to admit that he missed him too, and that he was worried. He had had at least one disagreement a day with Gus for as many years as he could remember. Gus never answered any question directly, but it was possible to test an opinion against him, if you went about it right. More and more Call felt his absence, though fortunately they were having uneventful times—the cattle were fairly well trail-broken and weren’t giving any trouble. The crew for the most part had been well behaved, no more irritable or contrary than any other group of men. The weather had been ideal, water plentiful, and the spring grass excellent for grazing.
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But probably he wasn’t there. Probably he had sold the woman and left, sending a few Kiowas down the trail to take care of whoever came along. It would likely just be a matter of shooting down two or three renegade buffalo hunters who had been too lazy to find honest work once the herds petered out.
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This new development put him in a quandary. He was prepared for a good hard walk to the river, carrying a heavy saddle, but if there were strangers around they might be friendly, and he might not have to carry the saddle. Possibly the scout for a cattle herd had stumbled into the little group of hostiles, though the main trail routes lay to the east.
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He didn’t have long to enjoy being glad, though. That night they camped on the plains, twenty miles north of Fort Worth.July felt it was all right to sleep without a guard, as there were trail herds on both sides of them. They could hear the night herders singing to the cattle.
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“He’s to the south,” July said. “He’s coming with a trail herd. I want to find Ellie. Once that’s done we’ll look for Jake.” He fished some money out of his pocket and paid for the beers. “Maybe you ought to take the young ones and go back to Arkansas,” he said. “I’m going after Ellie.” “I’ll come with you,” Roscoe said. Now that he had found July, he had no intention of losing him again. He had had plenty of trouble coming, and yet worse might occur if he tried to go back on his own.
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“I never expected to see you right then,” Roscoe said. “Then there you were, pointing that gun.” “This is the main trail to Texas from Fort Smith,” July pointed out. “If I was looking for you that’s where I’d likely be.” “Yeah, but I didn’t know you was looking for me,” Roscoe said. “You don’t usually.” “Peach wrote and told me you was on the way,” July said. It was all the explanation he planned to offer until he could get Roscoe alone.
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Once the men were handcuffed and tied, July got them onto their horses and tied their feet to the stirrups. Hutto and Jim he knew by reputation, for they had harried the east Texas trails for the last year or two, mostly robbing settlers but occasionally killing those who put up a fight. He had expected to find Roscoe eventually, but not the two bandits. Now something would have to be done with them before he could even ask Roscoe all the questions he wanted to ask about Elmira. Also, there was the rock-thrower—Janey, Roscoe had called her. Why was a Janey traveling with Roscoe? Indeed, where was she? The rock-throwing had stopped but no one had appeared.
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An hour passed, and then another, and Roscoe was forced to consider the possibility that he might have lost the girl. One of the snakes she took so little notice of could have bitten her. She could be dying somewhere back along the trail.
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There were some rough customers traveling the trail. One day they met two dirty-looking men with greasy beards and six or seven guns between them. Roscoe had an anxious moment, for the men stopped him and asked to borrow tobacco.
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Janey was shy of people. She had keen eyesight and would usually see other travelers before Roscoe did. Often when she saw one she disappeared, darting off the trail and hiding in weeds and tall grass until the stranger passed.
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It seemed they were on a fairly good trail, for every day they encountered three or four travelers, sometimes more. Once they caught up with a family plodding along in a wagon. It was such a large family that it looked like a small town on the move, particularly if you wanted to count the livestock. The old man of the family, who was driving the team, didn’t seem talkative, but his wife was.
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Not only could Janey keep them on the trail but she was also extremely useful when it came to rounding up grub. Once they got settled in a camp at night she would disappear and come back five minutes later with a rabbit or a possum or a couple of squirrels. She could even catch birds. Once she came back with a fat brownish bird of a sort Roscoe had never seen.
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“Thanks for the company,” he said. “I think we better go look for my deputy.” “There’s a perfectly straight trail from Fort Smith into Texas,” Wilbarger said. “Captain Marcy laid it out. If that deputy can’t even stay in a road, I expect you ought to fire him.” Then he loped away without saying goodbye. Joe wished they were going with him. In only a few hours the man had paid him several compliments and had offered to hire him. He found himself feeling resentful both of July and Roscoe. Julydidn’t seem to know what he wanted to do, and as for Roscoe, if he couldn’t stay in a road, then he deserved to be lost.
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“You’ve overshot Mr. Spoon,” he said. “He was recently seen in the town of Lonesome Dove, where he won twenty dollars from a hand of mine. However, he’s headed this way. He partnered up with the gentlemen who got my horses back. If I were you I’d camp here and put this boy in school. They’ll be along in two or three weeks.” “I thank you for the information,” July said. “I don’t suppose you’ve run across a man named Roscoe Brown along the trail.”“Nope, who’d he kill?” Wilbarger asked.
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“Yep,” Augustus said, saddling the sorrel. “I didn’t worry much because Deets tracked him way south. But I guess he fooled us both.” “Why, there was talk of him over at Fort Worth,” Jake said. “He runs a big gang of murderers. They lay by the trails and murder travelers for whatever they’ve got on ’em. Why didn’t you just bring her to camp, if you knew he was around?” “I should have, for sure,” Augustus said. “But she didn’t want to come. She had faith in you for some reason.” “Well, this is aggravating,” Jake said. “She wouldn’t come to town either. She would have been safe in town. But she wouldn’t come.” “What’s your plan, Gus?” he asked, when he saw that Augustus was almost ready to leave.
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