“This is a big-looking town,” Roscoe said. “I guess I can buy myself some clothes.” “Not for no fifty cents,” the woman said. “That’s nothing but a sack the girl’s wearing. You ought to get her something decent to wear while you’re buying.” “Well, I might,” Roscoe said. It was true that Janey’s dress was a mere rag.
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Roscoe’s clothes were practically in ribbons, so much so that the woman laughed when she saw him. She offered to mend his clothes for another fifty cents, but Roscoe had to decline, since he had nothing to wear while the work was being done.
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“I guess we ought to ask them if they’ve seen Roscoe,” July said. “He could be south of us. Or they might have news of Jake.” They loped over to the wagon just as the wrangler turned loose the horse herd. The horses, fifty or sixty of them, were jumping and frisking, kicking up their heels and nickering at one another, glad to be moving. July and Joe waited until the wrangler had them headed north before trotting on toward the wagon. The cook wore an old black hat, and had a long, dirty beard.
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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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But Po Campo had caught a big sackful, and when his grease was hot he sprinkled them into it five or six at a time. When he judged they were done he used the tip of a big knife to flick them out onto a piece of cheesecloth. Soon he had forty or fifty fried, and no one rushing to eat them.
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“No, the cook’s over there,” Pea said. “He’s got a fair lead on the donkey.” Sure enough, a short man was walking through the grass some fifty yards ahead of the donkey. He was traveling slow: it was just that his donkey was traveling slower. The man wore a sombrero with a hole in the top.
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Somehow the daydream had become a night dream, and the night dream was ending. He woke up very frightened, though at first he didn’t know why he was frightened. He just knew that something was wrong. He still sat under the tree, the gun in his hand, only there was a sound that was wrong, a sound like drumming. For a second it confused him—then he realized what it was: the cattle were running. Instantly he was running too, running for Mouse. He wasn’t sure how close the cattle were or whether they were running in his direction, but he didn’t stop to listen. He knew he had to get to Mouse and then ride back to Lorena, to help her in case the cattle swerved her way. He began to hear men yelling to the west, obviously the boys trying to turn the cattle. Then suddenly a bunch of running cattle appeared right in front of him, fifty or sixty of them. They ran right past him and on toward the bluffs.
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“I’m after July Johnson,” he said. “His wife run off.” “I wish she’d run this way,” the woman said. “I’d put her to work helping me clear this field. It’s slow work, doing it alone.” And yet the woman had made progress. At the south edge of the field, where Memphis was tied, forty or fifty stumps were lined up.
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“You was never grateful for nothing, Jake,” Augustus said. “Here I returned a fifty-dollar horse that you couldn’t have found in a week, and all you can do is gripe about my company.” “Well, there’s such a thing as too much of your dern company,” Jake said, looking to see if Lorie was out of hearing.
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Call was annoyed with Gus, who had still not returned. Pea had reported seeing him just after dawn, riding east in evident health. Call noticed the Texas bull, standing about fifty yards away. He was watching the two pigs, who were rooting around a chaparral bush. Probably they were trying to root out a ground squirrel, or perhaps a rattlesnake. The bull took a few steps toward them, but the pigs ignored him.
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Then Mouse began to move again and Newt heard the splashing of a horse ahead. He didn’t know if it carried a friendly rider, but Mouse seemed to think so, for he was trotting through the hock-high water, trying to locate the other horse. In one of the weakening flashes of lightning Newt saw cattle trotting along, fifty yards to his right. Suddenly, with no warning, Mouse began to slide. His back feet almost went out from under him—they had struck a gully, and Newt felt water rising up his legs. Fortunately it wasn’t a deep gully; Mouse regained his balance and struggled through it, as scared as Newt.
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Then Xavier began to pull money out of his pocket. It was hard to say how much he held out to her, but it was a good deal more than fifty dollars. It might even be a hundred dollars. The sight of it made her feel tired. No matter what plans she made or how she tried to live, some man would always be looking at her and holding out money. Without giving it much thought, Mosby had started something that nothing seemed to stop. She thought Jake had stopped it, but he hadn’t. His talk about killing men was just talk. If he had cared that much he would have shot Gus, friend or no friend. It was hard to believe he would even shoot Xavier—probably he would just give her another slap and forget about it.
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“Hell, I don’t need all this,” he said. “There ain’t a horse in town worth fifty dollars, unless it’s that mare of Call’s, and she ain’t for sale.” But he took the money, thinking it a fine joke on Gus that the money from his poke would buy Lorie a mount to ride to Montana, or however far they went. He had known perfectly well Gus would try something of the sort, for Gus would never let him have a woman to himself. Gus liked to be a rival more than anything else, Jake figured. And as for Lorie going through with it—well, it relieved him of a certain level of responsibility for her. If she was going to keep that much independence, so would he.
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“You don’t look like you’ve changed your mind,” he said. “I guess I’ve got to get up and go buy you a horse.” “Take my money,” she said. “Don’t get one that’s too tall.” She gave him Gus’s fifty dollars.
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“I reckon he got his poke,” he said. “If he didn’t you can hit me a lick.” “We cut the cards for it and he cheated,” Lorena said. “I can’t prove it but I know it. He gave me the fifty dollars anyway.” “I ought to told you never to cut the cards with that old cud,” Jake said. “Not unless you’re ready for what he’s ready for.
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“Gus offered me fifty dollars,” she said.
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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.
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Then, in a second, Gus beat her. She came up with a ten of spades, and him with the queen of hearts. It was her sense that he’d cheated, though she couldn’t have said how. She had not realized before what a determined man he was. He had come in for a purpose and she had not been clever enough to head him off. He paid her the fifty dollars at once—it had not been a bluff. When he had had the poke and was dressing, she found that she felt pretty cheerful and was not in a mood to hurry him out. After all, Gus had paid her many visits and given her nothing to hold against him. The fifty dollars was flattering, and she rather liked it that she was his preference even though he was Jake’s best friend. She had stopped feeling silent and was content to let him loll for a few minutes.
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“Go get a Mexican woman,” she said. “Why waste your money?” “Because you’re my preference,” Augustus said. “I’ll tell you what, let’s cut the cards. If you’re high, I’ll give you the money and forget the poke. If I’m high, I’ll give you the money and you give me the poke.” Lorena thought she might as well. After all, it was just gambling, which was what Jake did. If she won it would all seem like a joke, something that Gus had cooked up to pass the time. Besides, she would have fifty dollars and could send to San Antonio for some new dresses, so Jake wouldn’t be so critical of her wardrobe. She could tell him she beat Gus to the tune of fifty dollars, which would astonish him, since he played with Gus all the time and seldom won more than a few dollars.
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“You can pay him if you want but I ain’t going,” she said. “Jake’s my sweetheart.” “I ain’t trying to cut him out,” Augustus said. “I just want a poke.” Lorena felt her silence coming back. It was the only way to deal with such a situation. She sat for a few minutes, not talking, hoping he would go away. But it didn’t work. He just sat and drank, perfectly friendly and in no hurry. Once she thought about it, the sum grew on her a little. It was something, to be offered fifty dollars. She would have thought it crazy in anyone except Gus, but Gus was clearly not crazy! In a way it was a big compliment that he would offer fifty dollars just for that.
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Augustus looked at Lippy. It was true that the man was a dreadful gossip, and a gossip, moreover, who had scant materials to work with. It would not be easy for him to resist mentioning that he had heard a man offer fifty dollars for a poke.
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Lippy nearly fell off his stool. He had never seen or imagined anything so rash. Fifty dollars for one poke? Then it occurred to him he would cheerfully give as much, if he had it, to get under Lorena’s skirts. A man could always get more money, but there wasn’t but one Lorie, not on the border, anyway.
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“I’ll give you fifty dollars,” Gus said with a big grin.
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“Ain’t no fifty or sixty cattle going to be on top of me,” Needle replied, unruffled. “Nor no dern horse neither.” Bert Borum thought Needle was hilarious—he thought pretty near everything was hilarious. He was one of those menwho have a laugh you like to hear.
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“I’d like to see you swim with fifty or sixty cattle on top of you, or maybe your own horse,” Jasper said.
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