Part 56 (2/2)

She told him about the shot that hit the turkey, and Luke shook his head.

”I never shot no turkey,” he said. ”I was thinking to ride off and leave you but I changed my mind.”

”Who shot it then?” she asked. Luke had no answer.

She reported this to Zwey but he had forgotten the incident-he wasn't very interested.

After that, though, she grew afraid of the nights-whoever had shot the turkey might still be out there. She huddled in the wagon, scared, and spent her days wis.h.i.+ng they would come to Ogallala.

67.

ALL THROUGH THE TERRITORY, Newt kept expecting to see Indians-the prospect was all the cowboys talked about. Dish claimed there were all manner of Indians in the Territory, and that some of them were far from whipped. The claim upset Pea Eye, who liked to believe that his Indian-fighting days were over.

”They ain't supposed to fight us no more,” he said. ”Gus claims the government paid 'em to stop.”

”Yes, but whoever heard of an Indian doing what he was supposed to do?” Lippy said. ”Maybe some of them consider that they wasn't paid enough.”

”What would you know?” Jasper inquired. ”When did you ever see an Indian?”

”I seen plenty,” Lippy informed him. ”What do you think made this hole in my stomach? An Apache Indian made that hole.”

”Apache?” Dish said. ”Where did you find an Apache?”

”West of Santa Fe,” Lippy said. ”I traded in them parts, you know. That's where I learned to play the piano.”

”I wouldn't be surprised if you forget how before we come to a place that's got one,” Pea Eye said. He found himself more and more depressed by the prospect of endless plains. Normally, in his traveling days, he had ridden through one kind of country for a while and then come to another kind of country. It had even been true on the trail drive: first there had been brush, then the limestone hills, then some different brush, and then the plains. But after that there had just been more and more plains, and no end in sight that he could see. Once or twice he asked Deets how soon they could expect to come to the end of them, for Deets was the acknowledged expert on distances, but this time Deets had to admit he was stumped. He didn't know how long the plains went on. ”Over a thousand, I guess,” he said.

”A thousand miles?” Pea said. ”We'll all get old and grow beards before we get that far.”

Jasper pointed out to him that at an average of fifteen miles a day it would only take them about two months to get a thousand miles. Thinking of it in terms of months proved more comforting than thinking of it in terms of miles, so Pea tried that for a while.

”When will it be a month up?” he asked Po Campo one night. Po was another much-relied-on source of information.

”Don't worry about months,” Po Campo said. ”Months won't bother you. I'm more worried about it being dry.”

”Lord, it ain't been dry yet,” Pea said. ”It's rained aplenty.”

”I know,” Po said. ”But we may come to a place where it will forget to rain.”

He had long since won the affection of Gus's pigs. The shoat followed him around everywhere. It had grown tall and skinny. It annoyed Augustus that the pigs had shown so little fidelity; when he came to the camp and noticed the shoat sleeping right beside Po Campo's workplace, he was apt to make tart remarks. The fact that many of the men had come to regard Po Campo as an oracle also annoyed Augustus.

”Po, you're too short to see far, but I hear you can tell fortunes,” he said one morning when he had ridden over for breakfast.

”I can tell some fortunes,” Po allowed. ”I don't know if I can tell yours.”

”I don't want n.o.body to tell mine,” Jasper said. ”I might find out that I'm going to drown in the Republican River.”

”I'd like to know mine,” Augustus said. ”I've had mine told a few times by old black women in New Orleans, and they always say the same thing.”

”Probably they tell you that you'll never be rich and you'll never be poor,” Po said, whipping at his scrambled eggs.

”That's right,” Augustus said. ”It's a boring fortune. Besides, I can look in my pocket and tell that much myself. I ain't rich and I ain't poor, exactly.”

”What more would you like to know about your fortune?” Po Campo inquired politely.

”How many more times I'm likely to marry,” Augustus said. ”That's the only interesting question, ain't it? Which river I drown in don't matter to me. That's Jasper's interest. I'd just like to know my matrimonial prospects.”

”Spit,” Po said. ”Spit in the wagon here.”

Augustus walked over to the wagon and spat on the boards. The day before, Po Campo had caught six prairie-chicken hatchlings, for some reason, and they were running around in the wagon bed, chirping. Po came over and looked for a moment at Augustus's expectoration.

”No more wives for you,” he said immediately, and turned back to his eggs.

”That's disappointing,” Augustus said. ”I've only had two wives so far, and neither of them lived long. I figured I was due one more.”

”You don't really want another wife,” Po said. ”You are like me, a free man. The sky is your wife.”

”Well, I've got a dry one then,” Augustus said, looking up at the cloudless sky.

The shoat stood on its hind legs and put its front hooves on the side of the wagon. It was trying to see the hatchlings.

”I'd have turned you into bacon long since if I'd have known you were going to be so fickle,” Augustus said.

”Can you tell stuff about a feller from looking at his spit?” Pea Eye asked. He had heard of fortune-tellers, but thought they usually did it with cards.

”Yes,” Po Campo said, but he didn't explain.

Just as they were about to cross into Kansas, some Indians showed up. There were only five of them, and they came so quietly that n.o.body noticed them at first. Newt was on the drags. When the dust let up for a moment he looked over and saw the Captain talking to a small group of riders. At first he supposed them to be cowboys from another herd. He didn't think about them being Indians until the Captain came trotting over with them. ”Take him,” the Captain said, pointing to a steer with a split hoof who was hobbling along in the rear.

By the time it registered that they were really Indians, they had already cut off the steer and were driving it away, as the Captain sat and watched. Newt was almost afraid to look at them, but when he did he was surprised at how thin and poor they looked. The old man who was their leader was just skin and bones. He rode near enough for Newt to see that one of his eyes was milky white. The other Indians were young. Their ponies were as thin as they were. They had no saddles, just saddle blankets, and only one had a gun, an old carbine. The Indians boxed the steer out of the herd as skillfully as any cowboys and soon had him headed across the empty plain. The old man raised his hand to the Captain as they left, and the Captain returned the gesture.

That night there was much talk about the event.

”Why, they didn't look scary,” Jimmy Rainey said. ”I reckon we could have whipped them easy enough.”

Po Campo chuckled. ”They weren't here to fight,” he said. ”They're just hungry. When they're fighting they look different.”

”That's right,” Lippy said. ”It don't take but a second for one to shoot a hole in your stomach. It happened to me.”

Call had formed the habit of riding over with Augustus every night as he took Lorena her supper. Augustus usually camped about a mile from the herd, so it gave them a few minutes to talk. Augustus had not seen the Indians, but he had heard about the gift of the beef.

”I guess you're getting mellow in your old age,” he said. ”Now you're feeding Indians.”

”They were just Wichitas,” Call said, ”and they were hungry. That steer couldn't have kept up anyway. Besides, I knew the old man,” he added. ”Remember old Bacon Rind?-or that's what we called him, anyway.”

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