MICHAEL nods his relief.
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When Call dismounted and dropped his reins old Bolivar walked over, trembling, a look of disbelief on his face. “Oh, Capitán, Capitán,” he said, and began to blubber. Tears of relief rolled down his rough cheeks. He clutched at Call’s arms, as if he were worn out and might fall.
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The Captain looked angry, which made the men better reconciled to the fact that he was leaving. All of them feared his angers. But once he left, before he and the mare were even out of sight, their mood of relief changed back to one of apprehension.
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“But he never interested me, Dad,” he went on. “I lit out from that place when I was thirteen years old, and I ain’t stopped yet. I didn’t care one way or the other for Dad. I just seen that horses and hounds would get boring if you tried to make ’em a life. I ’spect I’d have wrecked every marriage in the county if I’d stayed in Tennessee. Or else have got killed in a duel.” Newt knew Mr. Gus was trying to be kind, but he wasn’t listening. Much of his life he had wondered who his father was and where he might be. He felt it would be a relief to know. But now he knew, and it wasn’t a relief. There was something in it that thrilled him—he was Captain Call’s son—but more that felt sad. He was glad when Mr. Gus put the horses in a lope—he didn’t have to think as much. They loped along over the grassy plains toward the cattle in the far distance. The cattle looked tiny as ants.THE MEN BEGAN TO TALK of the Yellowstone River as if it were the place where the world ended—or, at least, the place where the drive would end. In their thinking it had taken on a magical quality, partly because no one really knew anything about it. Jasper Fant had somehow picked up the rumor that the Yellowstone was the size of the Mississippi, and as deep.
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For the next few days everyone was tense, expecting Indian attack. Several men took alarm at the sight of what turned out to be sagebrush or low bushes. No one could sleep at night, and even those hands who were not on guard spent much of the night checking and rechecking their ammunition. The Irishman was afraid to sing on night duty for fear of leading the Indians straight to them. In fact, night herding became highly unpopular with everyone, and instead of gambling for money men began to gamble over who took what watch. The midnight watch was the most unpopular. No one wanted to leave the campfire: the men who came in from the watches did so with profound relief, and the men who went out assumed they were going to their deaths. Some almost cried. Needle Nelson trembled so that he could barely get his foot in his stirrup. Jasper Fant sometimes even got off and walked when he was on the far side of the herd, reasoning that the Indians would be less likely to spot him if he was on foot.
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It was as if he were looking through water—as if he had come back to the old river and were lying on the bottom, looking at Mr. Gus through the shallow brown water. Mr. Gus’s head had grown larger, was floating off. It was rising toward the sky like the moon. He could barely see it and then couldn’t see it at all, but the waters parted for a moment and he saw a blade or two of grass, close to his eye; then to his relief the brown waters came back and covered him again, deep this time and warm.
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To Call’s great relief, the storm blew itself out in three hours. The wind gradually died and the sand lay under their feetagain instead of peppering them. The moon was soon visible, and the sky filled with bright stars. It would not be possible to judge how many cattle had strayed until the morning, but at least the main herd was still under their control.
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“Put him against your shoulder,” Clara said. “You don’t have to hold him like that—he ain’t a newspaper.” July tried it. The baby soon wet his shirt with slobbers, but he wasn’t crying. July continued to hum “Lorena.” Then, to his relief, Clara took the baby.
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But now, in a minute, the relief was gone, and he was reminded of all her difficulties, how nothing he did pleased her, not even finding her in Ogallala. He didn’t know what more to do or say. She had married him and carried his child, and yet she wouldn’t turn her head to look at him.
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“I’ll check every few days, Ellie,” he said. “The doctor can send for me if you need me.” He paused. In the face of her silence, he didn’t know what to say. She sat propped up against the pillow, silent—it wasalmost as if she were dead. It reminded him of times in Arkansas, times in the loft when he felt as if he were with someone who wasn’t there. When he had found out she was alive and at the doctor’s in Ogallala, he had gone off behind Clara’s saddle shed and wept for an hour from relief. After all the worry and doubt, he had found her.
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“It’s a good thing this grass don’t depend on me,” Augustus said. “There’s a lot more of it than I can get watered.” They were on a plain of grass so huge that it was hard to imagine there was a world beyond it. The herd, and themselves, were like a dot, surrounded by endless grass. Lorena had come to like the space—it was a relief after her years of being crowded in a little saloon.
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“Men have tears in them too, same as you,” Clara said. “Go draw some water. I think we might offer him a bath.” She went back in. July had not quite gained control of himself. He was too shaken with relief. The baby, now in a good mood, was mouthing its own fingers and rolling its eyes up to her. Might as well tell the man, she thought. She pulled out a chair and sat down at the table.
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“Oh, shush,” Clara said. “The sun’s just been up five minutes.” She reflected that perhaps that was what she had held back—she had never become proficient at early rising, despite all the practice she’d had. She had got up dutifully and made breakfast for Bob and whatever hands happened to be there, but she was not at her best, and the breakfasts seldom arrived on the table in the orderly fashion that Bob expected. It was a relief to her when he went away on horse-trading expeditions and she could sleep late, or just lie in bed thinking and reading the magazines she ordered from the East or from England.
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Occasionally a cowboy would pass by, his spurs jingling. Some of them gave July a look, but none of them spoke to him. It was comfortable to sit in the saloon—as sheriff, he had usually avoided them unless he had business in one. It had always puzzled him how some men could spend their days just sitting in a saloon, drinking, but now it was beginning to seem less puzzling. It was restful, and the heavy feeling that came with the drinking was a relief to him, in a way. For the last few weeks he had been struggling to do things which were beyond his powers—he knew he was supposed to keep trying, even if he wasn’t succeeding, but it was pleasant not to try for a little while.
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There was a rise a mile or two to the north, and Newt rode over to it. To his vast relief, he saw several riders coming and waved his hat to make sure they saw him. The hoppers had nibbled on his clothes, and he felt lucky not to be naked.
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“More likely they ate the Indians,” Call said. “The Indians and everything else.” Newt’s first fear when the cloud hit was that he would suffocate. In a second the grasshoppers covered every inch of his hands, his face, his clothes, his saddle. A hundred were stuck in Mouse’s mane. Newt was afraid to draw breath for fear he’d suck them into his mouth and nose. The air was so dense with them that he couldn’t see the cattle and could barely see the ground. At every step Mouse crunched them underfoot. The whirring they made was so loud he felt he could have screamed and not been heard, although Pea Eye and Ben Rainey were both within yards. Newt ducked his head into the crook of his arm for protection. Mouse Suddenly broke into a run, which meant the cattle were running, but Newt didn’t look up. He feared to look, afraid the grasshoppers would scratch his eyes. As he and Mouse raced, he felt the insects beating against him. It was a relief to find he could breathe.
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He rushed to it with relief. Rain was just wet—it didn’t scare him, and he knew that if it rained hard enough the lightning would finally stop.The cattle ran for many miles, but soon the storm was to the east of them and he had only the rain and darkness to contend with. As he had done before, he plodded along much of the night beside the cattle. Occasionally he would hear the shout of another cowboy, but it was too dark and rainy to see anything. The length of such nights was a torment. A hundred times, or a thousand, he would look in what he thought was an easterly direction, hoping to see the grayness that meant dawn. But all directions were equally black for what seemed like twenty hours.
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He rushed to it with relief. Rain was just wet—it didn’t scare him, and he knew that if it rained hard enough the lightning would finally stop.The cattle ran for many miles, but soon the storm was to the east of them and he had only the rain and darkness to contend with. As he had done before, he plodded along much of the night beside the cattle. Occasionally he would hear the shout of another cowboy, but it was too dark and rainy to see anything. The length of such nights was a torment. A hundred times, or a thousand, he would look in what he thought was an easterly direction, hoping to see the grayness that meant dawn. But all directions were equally black for what seemed like twenty hours.
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He got up and trudged through the faint light back toward the wagon, and had not walked a quarter of a mile before he heard a loping horse and turned to see Pea clipping along a ridge, right toward him. Though caught afoot, Newt still felt a certain relief. Pea was his friend, and wouldn’t judge him as harshly as the others would.
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It was a great relief to him when Mouse nickered and Lorena’s horse nickered back. At least that disgrace had been avoided. He loped on to the little camp, and at first couldn’t see Lorena at all, just the horse and the mule. Then he finally saw her sitting with her back against a tree.
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NORTH OF SAN ANTONIO the country finally began to open up, to the relief of everyone. Two weeks of mesquite had tried everyone’s patience. Gradually the mesquite thinned and the country became less heavily wooded. The grass was better and the cattle easier to handle. They grazed their way north so slowly most days that Newt felt it would take forever just to get out of Texas, much less make it to Montana.
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Fortunately the problem of direction was finally solved one afternoon when he ran into a little party of soldiers with a mule team. They claimed to be heading for someplace called Buffalo Springs, which was in Texas. There were only four soldiers, two horseback and two in the wagon, and they had relieved the tedium of travel by getting drunk. They were generous men, so generous that Roscoe was soon drunk too. His relief at finding men who knew where Texas was caused him to imbibe freely. He was soon sick to his stomach. The soldiers considerately let him ride in the wagon—not much easier on his stomach, for the wagon had no springs. Roscoe became so violently ill that he was forced to lie flat in the wagon bed with his head sticking out the back end, so that when the heaves hit him he could vomit, or at least spit, without anyone losing time.
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But his departure surprised and saddened Newt. It spoiled his relief that Lippy was alive—after all, he had lost another friend, Bol instead of Lippy. Newt didn’t say so, but he would rather have lost Lippy. He didn’t want Lippy to die, of course, but he wouldn’t have minded if he had decided to return to Lonesome Dove.
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“Well, I ain’t,” Augustus said. “The boys can, their feet are already wet.” It seemed to Newt everyone was being mighty callous about Lippy, who lay on the riverbank. Then, to his surprise, Lippy, whose head was still covered with mud, rolled over and began to belch water. He belched and vomited for several minutes, making a horrible sound, but Newt’s relief that he was not dead was so great that he welcomed the sound and waded out to help the Raineys unhitch the mules.
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“This ain’t a well-thought-out journey,” Augustus remarked. “Even if we get these cattle to Montana, who are we gonna sell ’em to?” “The point ain’t to sell ’em next week,” Call said. “The point is to get the land. The people will be coming.” “Why are we taking that ugly bull?” Augustus asked. “If the land’s all that pretty, it don’t need a lot of ugly cattle on it.” To their relief the crossing went off well. The only commotion was caused by Jasper, who charged the river at a gallop and caused his horse to stumble and nearly fall.
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