For two weeks, through the spring evenings, Newt was very happy. He had never expected to share such a time with the Captain, and he hoped the Captain would speak to him soon and explain all that had puzzled him for so long.
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Where were you?” July had been thinking that he probably should have offered to sit with her. Of course, now it was too late. He wanted to explain that he was too shy just to come into a room where she was, particularly a bedroom, unless she asked him. Even coming into the kitchen, if she was alone, was not something he did casually. But he didn’t know how to explain all the cautions she prompted in him.
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“That girl plays beautifully,” the doctor said. “They say she studied music in Philadelphia when she was younger.” “How old is she now?” Augustus asked. “Maybe I’ll send her a bouquet.” The doctor smiled. “It’s plain you’re a man of spirit,” he said. “That’s good. I’m afraid you’ve a few fractuosities yet to endure.” “A few what?” Augustus asked. “You better introduce yourself before you start talking Latin.” “Dr. Mobley,” the man said. “Joseph C. Mobley, to be precise. The C stands for Cincinnatus.” “More Latin, I guess,” Augustus said. “Explain that first bunch of Latin you talked.” “I mean we’ve got to take off that other leg,” Dr. Mobley said. “I should have done it while you were out, but frankly, getting the left leg off exhausted me.” “It’s a good thing,” Augustus said. “If you’d hacked off my right leg, you’d be the one who was out. I need that right leg.” His gun belt was hanging over a chair nearby, and he reached out and took his pistol from the holster.
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“I guess he was out of his head,” Dish said. “I guess that explains it.” Po Campo smiled. “The dead can help us if we let them, and if they want to,” he said.
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“I’ll explain it when I get back,” Augustus said. “Come on, Pea, let’s go see if we can find Canada.” They loped off, watched by the whole camp. The crew had been made melancholy by the approaching clouds. Po Campo had wandered off looking for roots.
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“No,” Augustus said. “What you have to understand is that Woodrow Call is a peculiar man. He likes to think that things are a certain way. He likes to think everybody does their duty, especially him. He likes to think people live for duty—I don’t know what started him thinking that way. He ain’t dumb. He knows perfectly well people don’t live for duty. But he won’t admit it about anybody if he can help it, and he especially won’t admit it about himself.” Newt saw that Mr. Gus was laboring to explain it to him, but it was no good. So far as he could tell, the Captain did live for duty. What did that have to do with the Captain being his father?
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They expected to start the herd that day, as Captain Call had never been known to linger. But this time he did. He came back from the grave, got a big hammer and knocked a board loose from the side of the wagon. He didn’t explain what he was doing to anyone, and the look on his face discouraged anyone from asking. He took the board and carried it down to the grave. The rest of the day he sat alone by Deets’s grave, carving something into it with his knife. The sun flashed on his knife, and the cowhands watched in puzzlement. They just didn’t know what it could be that would take the Captain so long.
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She was afraid at first that Gus might have his feelings hurt. She looked at him a little fearfully, hard put to explain the strange desire she had to stay at Clara’s. Only that morning she had been resolved to stay with Gus at all costs.
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“Deets don’t need to tie me,” Jake said. For a moment his spirits rose, just from the sound of Gus’s voice. It was Call and Gus, his old compañeros. It was just a matter of making them realize what an accident it had been, him riding with the Suggs. It was just that they had happened by the saloon just as he was deciding to leave. If he could just get his head clear of the whiskey he could soon explain it all.
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Augustus dropped back to explain matters to Lorena. She looked at him with worry in her eyes.
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“You’re right good-looking,” she said. “I expect that explains it. If I were you I’d start getting over it.” “I got to find her,” July said. “I got to tell her about little Joe. He got killed on the Canadian.” “She oughtn’t to had him,” Jeannie said. “I told her not to. I wouldn’t have one for anything. I’ve had offers, too.” July drank two more whiskeys but had little more to say.
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“Yes,” Po Campo said, but he didn’t explain.
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July thought all night. Knowing that he had only to raise the pistol eased his mind a little. He had better go and find Elmira first. He wanted to explain to her that he had never meant to do whatever had caused her to run off. Once that was done, he could go off with the pistol and join his dead.
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Also, he would have to explain to July why he was traveling with a young girl. It seemed better to talk about the miracle of July’s appearance, but July didn’t want to say much about it.
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“Get down and walk with me, young man,” Po Campo said. “We might see some interesting things if we keep our eyes open. You can help me gather breakfast.” “You’ll likely see the Captain, if you don’t speed along a little faster,” Pea said. “The Captain don’t like to wait on breakfast.” Newt slid off the horse. It was a surprise to Pea and even a little bit of a surprise to himself, but he did it anyway. The wagon was only two or three hundred yards away. It wouldn’t take long to walk it, but it would postpone for a few minutes having to explain why he had lost his horse.
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Lorena looked up when she saw him coming, but she didn’t rise. She sat with her back against the tree and waited for him to explain himself. Newt could see her pale face, but it was too dark to tell anything about her expression.
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Roscoe was painfully aware that he had to make a decision. It was near midday and he had only covered a few miles. The girl was a handy person to have along on a trip, he had to admit. On the other hand, she was a runaway, and it would all be hard to explain to July.
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“You ain’t listening,” Augustus said. “I was trying to explain why you ought to marry. If you had a passel of kids, then you’d always have a troop to boss when you felt like bossing. It would occupy your brain and you wouldn’t get gloomy as often.” “I doubt that marriage could be worse than having to listen to you,” Call said, “but that ain’t much of a testimonial for it.” They reached San Antonio late in the day, passing near one of the old missions. A Mexican boy in a brown shirt was bringing in a small herd of goats.
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“You ain’t sick, are you?” he asked. There were fevers going around, and if she had one it would explain why she felt so testy.
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“Well, he is,” Call said, not anxious to have to explain the situation.
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Jake ate without tasting his food, wishing he had never come back to Lonesome Dove. It was going to be no pleasure riding north, if Call was so disapproving. He had meant to take Call aside and quietly explain it, but somehow he could not think of the best words to use. Call’s silences had a way of making him lose track of his thoughts—some of which were perfectly good thoughts, in their way.
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“Jasper wasn’t up on the details,” Augustus said. “He just heard it from a vaquero. But I allow it’s true, because it explains why you could lope in with a boy and an idiot and saunter off with his remuda.” “Well, I swear,” Call said again. “I never expected that.” “Oh, well,” Augustus said, “I never either, but then I don’t know why not. Mexicans don’t have no special dispensation.
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“You boys took the wrong ship,” Augustus said. “I doubt there’s ten spuds in this whole country.” He caught them the gentlest horses out of the small bunch that were still penned, and taught them how to adjust their stirrups so their feet wouldn’t dangle—he hadn’t had time for that refinement in Sabinas. Just then Jake came walking along, a Winchester in the crook of his arm. No doubt he had concluded it would be easier to stay up all night than to explain to Call why he hadn’t.
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“You took your time, I see,” Call said. “I was about to start back with a burial party.” “Shucks,” Augustus said. “Bringing these boys in was such a light task that I went over to Sabinas and stopped off at the whorehouse.” “That explains the saddles,” Call said.
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“What does trouble smell like then?” he asked. “I never noticed it had an odor. You right sure you ain’t just smelling yourself?” But Deets would never explain himself or allow Gus to draw him very deeply into argument. “How do the coyote know?” he sometimes replied.
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