Part 53 (1/2)

”I'm enjoying this whiskey,” Augustus said. ”A man is foolish to give up the stable pleasure of life just to follow a bunch of s.h.i.+tting cattle.”

”You have a point, and it's a point I've often taxed myself with,” Wilbarger said. ”If you're such a normal boy then how come you done it?”

”Unfinished business in Ogallala, Nebraska,” Augustus said. ”I'd hate to grow old without finis.h.i.+ng it.”

”I see,” Wilbarger said. ”Another shy lady who must have got abducted.”

They drank until the bottle was empty.

”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 G.o.dd.a.m.n 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.

”I'll send the cook over with some breakfast,” he said. ”By the way, you didn't cross the path of a young sheriff from Arkansas, did you? He's up this way somewhere, and I've been worried about him.”

”You must be referring to July Johnson,” Augustus said. ”We left him four days ago. He was headed on north.”

”Well, he had a funny crew with him. I was just a little uneasy,” Wilbarger said. ”I found him a likable man, but inexperienced.”

”He's got more experience now,” Augustus said. ”Blue Duck killed his crew.”

”Killed all three of them?” Wilbarger asked, startled. ”I even offered that young boy a job.”

”He should have took it,” Augustus said. ”We buried them west of here.”

”That Duck must be a hard son of a b.i.t.c.h,” Wilbarger said.

He sat on his horse a moment, looking into the night. ”I had a feeling young Johnson was inexperienced,” he said, and trotted off.

The next morning Wilbarger's old cook came over with some breakfast. It was a fine morning, the sun up and the plains well dried out. Augustus stepped out of the tent, but Lorena was content to look through the flaps.

”This is like living in a hotel, Lorie,” Augustus said. ”We got people toting us meals as fast as we can eat them.”

At that point the cook got careless and the little pack mule took a kick at him which barely missed.

”He's getting tired of making this trip,” the cook said.

”Or it could just be the company he's tired of,” Augustus suggested. ”I'd buy him if he was for sale. I've always got along with mules.”

”This mule ain't for sale,” the cook said, looking the camp over. ”I wisht all I had to do was live in a tent.”

Without further ado, he turned and went back.

When he was gone, Lorena came out and sat in the bright sun. While they ate, Wilbarger's cowboys began to move the herd toward the river.

”That Wilbarger is a curious man,” Augustus said. ”He's blunt-spoken, but I guess he'll do.”

Before noon all the herds had crossed and the wagon and remuda of the last one was just moving out of sight to the north.

”We might as well cross while the crossing's good,” Augustus said. ”It could come another rain.”

He folded the tent, which was awkward to carry on a horse. His horse didn't like it and tried to pitch, but Augustus finally got him settled down. The river had gone down some, and they crossed without difficulty and made camp on a long ridge about two miles to the north of it.

”Now then, we ought to be set,” Augustus said, once he had the tent secured. ”I imagine the boys will be along in a week or so.”

Lorena didn't care if they never came along, but she was glad they had the tent. It was scarcely up before rain clouds boiled again out of the northwest.

”Let her rain, we're ready,” Augustus said, taking the box of b.u.t.tons from his saddlebag. ”I guess it won't stop us from playing cards.”

Wilbarger had thoughtfully let them have some coffee and a side of bacon, and with those provisions and the tent and the b.u.t.tons, they pa.s.sed a week. A little of the hollowness left Lorena's cheeks, and her bruises healed. She still slept close to Augustus at night and her eyes still followed him when he went out to move the horses or do some errand. Once or twice on pretty evenings they rode over to the river. Augustus had rigged a fis.h.i.+ng line out of some coa.r.s.e thread they had found in Adobe Walls. He bent a needle for a hook and used tadpoles for bait. But he caught no fish. Whenever he went to the river, he stripped off and bathed.

”Come in, Lorie,” he said several times. ”A bath won't hurt you.”

Finally she did. She had not washed in a long time, and it felt good. Gus was sitting on a rock not far away, letting the sun dry him. The water was rapid, and she didn't wade in too deep. She was surprised to see how white her skin looked, once the dirt was all washed off. The sight of her own brown legs and white belly surprised her so that she began to cry. Once the crying started, she couldn't stop it-she cried as if she would never stop. Gus noticed and walked over to help her out of the river, for she was just standing there sobbing, the water up to her thighs.

Gus didn't reprimand her. ”I 'spect the best thing is for you to cry it out, Lorie,” he said. ”You just remember, you got a long time to live.”

”They shouldn't have took me,” Lorena said, when she stopped crying. She got her rag of a dress and went back to the tent.

62.

ONCE THEY HIT the Territory, Newt began to worry about Indians. He was not alone in his worrying. The Irishman had heard so much about scalping that he often tugged at his own hair as if to rea.s.sure himself that it wouldn't come off easily. Pea Eye, who spent most of his time sharpening his knife or making sure he had enough ammunition, was astonished that the Irishman had never seen a scalped person. During Pea's years as a Ranger they were always finding scalped settlers, and, for that matter, several of his friends had been scalped.

The Spettle boys, who were slowly becoming more talkative, confided in Newt that they would run away and go home if they weren't afraid of getting lost.

”But you have to drive the horses,” Newt pointed out. ”The Captain hired you.”

”Didn't know we was coming where the Indians were,” Bill Spettle said.

For all the talk, they saw neither Indians nor cowboys for days on end. They saw no one-just an occasional wolf or coyote. It seemed to Newt that the sky got bigger and the country emptier every day. There was nothing to see but gra.s.s and sky. The s.p.a.ce was so empty that it was hard to imagine that there might ever be towns in it, or people.

The Irishman particularly found the huge emptiness disturbing. ”I guess we left the people,” he said often. Or, ”When's the next people?”

n.o.body was quite sure when to expect the next people. ”It's too bad Gus ain't here,” Pea Eye said. ”Gus would know. He's an expert on where places is at.”

”Why, there's nothing north of here,” Dish said, surprised that anyone would think otherwise. ”You have to go east a ways to get into the towns.”

”I thought we was going to strike Ogallala,” Needle reminded him.

”I don't say we won't,” Dish said. ”That's up to the Captain. But if it ain't no bigger than Dodge, it wouldn't take much to miss it.”

Po Campo had become a great favorite with the men because of the tastiness of his cooking. He was friendly and kind to everyone, and yet, like the Captain, he kept apart. Po just did it in a different way. He might sing to them in his throaty voice, but he was a man of mystery, a strange man, walking all day behind the wagon, and at night whittling his little women. Soon each of the cowboys had been given one of the carvings.

”To remind you of your sisters,” Po said.