Allen O’Brien looked at him angrily. “I need to cry, but I’ve got no tears,” he said. “This goddamn country has burned up my tears.” Call had been awake for over three days, and he began to feel confused himself. He knew water couldn’t be much farther, but, all the same, fatigue made him doubtful. Perhaps it had been a hundred miles rather than eighty. They would never make it, if so. He tried to remember, searching his mind for details that would suggest how far the river might be, butthere were precious few landmarks on the dry plain, and the harder he concentrated the more his mind seemed to slip.
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“That was your business,” Call said. “I didn’t tell you to leave her behind, though I’m sure it’s the best thing.” “I think we ought to have listened to our cook,” Augustus said. “It’s looking droughty to me.” “If we can make Powder River I guess we’ll be all right,” Call said.“What if Jake lied to us?” Augustus said. “What if Montana ain’t the paradise he said it was? We’ll have come a hell of a way for nothing.” “I want to see it,” Call said. “We’ll be the first to graze cattle on it. Don’t that interest you?” “Not much,” Augustus said. “I’ve watched these goddamn cattle graze all I want to.” The next day Deets came back from his scout looking worried. “Dry as a bone, Captain,” he said.
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“We’ve fought Comanches and Kiowas and Mexican bandits for twenty years and we’re still here,” Call said. “You’d do well to listen.” “If I see you in town I’ll box your goddamn ears,” Dixon said, addressing himself to Call.
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“No,” Call said. “You can’t have our horses. And I’ll give you some advice, too. Your troop’s exhausted. If you was to find Indians you’d be the one’s massacred, most likely. You don’t just need fresh horses, you need fresh men.” “What I don’t need is advice from a goddamn cowboy,” Weaver said.
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“These goddamn sodbusters,” he said. “I hate their guts and livers.” “Well, that’s fine, Dan,” Roy said. “They’re dead enough.” “No, they ain’t,” Dan said. “A goddamn sodbuster can never be dead enough to suit me.” With that he went over and got the can of coal oil he had used to start the fire. He began to splash it on the hanged men’s clothes.
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“No, mostly girls here tonight,” Dan said. “Are you waiting for election day or what? Bring the goddamn horses.” Little Eddie brought them. The dawn was behind him, very faint but coming. Soon it was possible to make out the results of the battle. Wilbarger’s two men were dead, still in their blankets. One was Chick, the little weasel Jake remembered seeing the morning they brought the horses in from Mexico. He had been hit in the neck by a rifle bullet, Frog Lip’s, Dan said. The bullet had practically torn his head loose from his body—the corpse reminded Jake of a dead rabbit, perhaps because Chick had rabbitlike teeth, exposed now in a stiff grimace.
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“Goddamn the old son of a bitch,” Dan said. “I guess he’s killed Frog. Go get Eddie, Roy.” “You told him to come, I guess he’ll come,” Roy said.
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“Where’s that goddamn kid?” Dan asked. “I told him to bring them horses. Old Wilbarger’s getting away. Where’d you get hit, Frog?” Frog Lip didn’t answer.
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“I wanted that goddamn Wilbarger worse,” Dan said. “What about you, Spoon?” “Not hurt,” Jake said.
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“I’d like to steal a whole goddamn herd and sell it,” Dan said.
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“If you had two, I wish you’d brought two,” Augustus said. “I need to get back in practice drinking.” “Well, if we don’t get across that goddamn river tomorrow, I’ll see if I can rustle up another one,” Wilbarger said, standing up. “I seldom get conversation like yours. I can’t figure out if I like it or not, but I will admit it’s conversation, which is more than can be had in my camp.” He mounted his horse and was about to ride away.
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“Because of Jake we lost ’em both, I guess,” Dish said. “Jake is a goddamn bastard.” It was painful to Newt to have to think of Jake that way. He still remembered how Jake had played with him when he was a little child, and that Jake had made his mother get a lively, merry look in her eyes. All the years Jake had been gone, Newt had remembered him fondly and supposed that if he ever did come back he would be a hero. But it had to be admitted that Jake’s behavior since his return had not been heroic at all. It bordered on the cowardly, particularly his casual return to card playing once Lorena had been stolen.
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Blue Duck kicked Lorena twice more. “You ain’t worth selling,” Blue Duck said. “The Kiowas can have you.” “What about me?” Monkey John asked. “What about my half interest?” “I won back your half interest,” Blue Duck said. “I won the Kiowas’ half too.” “Then how come you’re giving her to the goddamn Kiowas?” Monkey John said. “Give her to me.” “No, I want them to carve her up,” Blue Duck said. “It might put some spirit in them, so they can go out tomorrow and run that old Ranger to ground.” “Hell, I’m as mean as they are,” Monkey John said. “I can finish him, if he comes around here.” Blue Duck mounted. “You ain’t half as mean as they are,” he said. “And if McCrae comes around here you better step quick or you’ll be plugged. He got Ermoke, and Ermoke was three times the fighter you are.” He opened his pack, took out a bottle of whiskey and pitched it to the Indians. Then he said something to them in their language and rode away toward the river.
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“Mind your own goddamn business,” Blue Duck said.
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“I think you’re a goddamn cheat,” Monkey John said, drunk enough to be reckless. “I think you cheated me out of our horses, and now you’ve cheated us out of this woman.” “I don’t want the woman,” Blue Duck said. “You men can have her back as a gift, and your horses too, provided you do me one favor.” “I bet it’s a hell of a big favor,” Dog Face said. “What do you want us to do, attack a fort?” Blue Duck chuckled. “There’s an old man following me,” he said. “He went west, but he’ll be coming along one of these days. I want you to kill him.
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“By God, life’s cheap up here on the goddamn Canadian,” Monkey John said.
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“Don’t want no goddamn goat,” Dog Face said. He was nervous about the turn the conversation was taking.
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“Well, now I’ve won the livestock,” Blue Duck said. “Or most of it.” “Most of it, hell, you’ve won it all,” Monkey John said. “We’re stuck on this goddamn river.” “I ain’t won the girl,” Blue Duck said.
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“What do you care if she talks?” Dog Face said. “I wouldn’t talk to you either, you goddamn old runt.” “She can talk, goddamn her,” Monkey John said. “Duck said she talked to him.” “It’s her business if she don’t want to talk,” Dog Face insisted. He was a thin scarecrow of a man, but he had crazy eyes, and Monkey John never pushed him too far.
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“Never should have arrested me,” Aus Frank said. “I don’t like that goddamn bank.” “You didn’t stay in jail but four hours,” Augustus reminded him. “Now that I’ve seen how hard you work, I’d say you probably needed the rest. You could have studied English or something. I see you’ve learned it finally.” “I don’t like the goddamn bank,” Aus repeated.
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“I guess you don’t remember me,” Augustus said, falling in beside him. “I’m Captain McCrae. We shot at one another all afternoon once, up on the Brazos. You was in one thicket and me and Captain Call was in the next one. We pruned the post oaks with all that shooting, and then we stuck you in jail and you crawled right out again.” “I don’t like you much,” Aus Frank said, still trundling. “Put me in the goddamn jail.” “Well, why’d you rob that bank?” Augustus said. “It ain’t Christian to rob your neighbors. It ain’t Christian to hold a grudge, neither. Wasn’t you born into the Christian religion?” “No,” Aus Frank said. “What do you want?” “A white girl,” Augustus said. “Pretty one. An outlaw carried her off. You may know him. His name is Blue Duck.” Aus Frank stopped the wheelbarrow. He needed to spit and leaned over and spat a large mouthful of tobacco juice directly into the hole of a red-ant bed. The ants, annoyed, scurried about in all directions.
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“It’s too bad the tribes played out,” he said. “A few years back all I would have had to do was scalp you. I could have got a bunch for a scalp like yours.” He reached up and idly fingered her hair. “I hope that goddamn old Ranger hurries along,” he said. “I owe him a few.” “Gus?” she said. “Gus won’t come. I ain’t his.” “He’s coming,” Blue Duck said. “I don’t know if it’s for you or for me, but he’s coming. I oughta just gut you and leave you here and let him bury whatever the buzzards and the varmints don’t eat.” Lorena didn’t look at him, for fear that if she looked he’d do it.
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Call was riding along relaxed and, before he could even jerk her head up, he lost a stirrup and knew he was thrown. Well, goddamn you, you finally got me, he thought, and a second later was on the ground. But he had taken a wrap around his hand with one rein and held on, hoping the rein wouldn’t snap. The rein held, and Call got to his feet and caught the other rein.
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Then he heard the old man say, “Fix the pallet.” The cabin was crudely built, with cracks between the logs big enough for a possum to crawl through, it seemed to Roscoe. He heard the old man stumbling around. “Goddamn you, come here,” the old man said. Roscoe began to feel unhappy that he had stopped at the cabin. Then he heard a whack, as if the old man had hit the girl with a belt or a razor strap or something. There was a scuffle which he couldn’t help but hear, and the strap landed a couple more times. Then the girl began to whimper.
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“Well, you’re a goddamn liar, then,” Jake said. “Once a whore, always a whore. I won’t stand for it. Next time I’ll take a rope to you.” After he ate his bacon he saddled and rode off without another word—to go gamble, she supposed. Far from being scared, Lorena was relieved. Jake’s angers were light compared to some she had known, but it was no pleasure having him around when he was so hot. Probably he thought to scare her, riding off so quick and leaving her in camp, but she felt no fear at all. The herd and all the boys were only a mile away. No one would be likely to bother her with the cow camp so close.
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