Part 75 (1/2)

”I'm not interested in Ogallala,” Weaver said. ”I'm interested in Red Cloud.”

”We don't know this Red Cloud,” Augustus said. ”But if he's much of a war chief you better hope you don't catch him. I doubt an Indian would even consent to eat them ponies you're riding. I never saw a worse-mounted bunch of men.”

”Well, we've been out ten days, and it's none of your concern,” Weaver said, trembling with indignation. Although Augustus was doing most of the talking, it was Call whom he looked at with hatred.

”Let's go,” Call said. ”This is pointless talk.” He saw that the little Captain was keyed up to the point where it wouldn't take much to provoke him into an explosion.

”Jim, get them horses,” Weaver said.

”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 ma.s.sacred, most likely. You don't just need fresh horses, you need fresh men.”

”What I don't need is advice from a G.o.dd.a.m.n cowboy,” Weaver said.

”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 G.o.dd.a.m.n ears,” Dixon said, addressing himself to Call.

Call ignored the man. He turned and started to ride away. Augustus released the young lieutenant's bridle.

”Leave me that n.i.g.g.e.r,” Weaver said. ”I've heard they can smell Indians. They're just red n.i.g.g.e.rs, anyway.”

”No,” Call said. ”I'd be afraid you'd mistreat him.”

They went to the wagon. When they turned to look, the cavalry troop was still sitting there.

”Reckon they'll charge?” Augustus asked.

”Charge a cow herd?” Call said. ”I wouldn't think so. Weaver's mad, but not that mad.”

They waited, but the cavalry merely sat on the ridge for a few minutes and then turned and rode away.

84.

THAT AFTERNOON they crossed the Platte River just east of Ogallala and turned the herd northwest. From the slopes north of the river they saw the little collection of shacks and frame buildings that made up the town. The cowboys were so entranced by the sight that they could hardly keep their minds on their business long enough to drive the cattle to a good bed-ground.

Call tried to caution them a little, mentioning that there were said to be Indians on the rampage, but the men scarcely heard him. Even Dish Boggett was in a fever to go. Call let six men go in first: Dish, Soupy, Bert, Jasper, Needle and the Irishman. They all put on fresh s.h.i.+rts and raced away as if a hundred Comanches were after them.

Augustus, setting up his tent, stopped a moment to watch them run. The cowboys whooped and waved their hats as they raced.

”Look at 'em go, Lorie,” Augustus said. ”Can't wait to get to town.”

Lorena was uninterested. She had only one thing on her mind.

”When are you going to see her?” she asked.

”Oh, tomorrow will do,” Augustus said. ”We'll both go.”

”I'll stay here,” Lorena said. ”I'd be too scared of what you'd say.”

Her hands were shaking at the thought of the woman, but she helped Gus peg the tent.

”I've a mind to go to Ogallala myself,” Augustus said. ”Would you like to come?”

”Why do you want to?” she asked.

”Well, it's a town, of sorts,” he said. ”I've a mind to do something civilized, like eat dinner in a restaurant. If that's asking too much, I could at least go in a barroom and drink a gla.s.s of whiskey.

”Come with me,” he added. ”They've probably got a store or two. We could buy you some clothes.”

Lorena considered it. She had been wearing men's clothes since Gus rescued her. There hadn't been any place to buy any others. She would need a dress if she went with Gus to see the woman. But she didn't know if she really wanted to go see her-although she had built up a good deal of curiosity about her. Lots of curiosity, but more fear. It was a strange life, just staying in the tent and talking to no one but Gus, but she was used to it. The thought of town frightened her almost as much as the thought of the woman.

”Do you want a wh.o.r.e or what?” she asked, when she saw him getting ready to go to town.

”Why would I want a wh.o.r.e, when I've got you?” he asked. ”You womenfolk have got strange minds. What I'd mainly like to do is sit in a chair and drink whiskey. I wouldn't mind a hand or two of cards either.”

”You want that other woman, and you've got me,” Lorena said. ”You could want us both and a wh.o.r.e too, I guess. Go get one if you want-I don't care.”

She almost hoped he would. It would strengthen her case against the other woman.

”Come with me,” Augustus said. ”I'll buy you some new dresses.”

”Just buy me one yourself,” Lorena said. ”Buy one you like.”

”But I don't know your size,” he said. ”Why are you so shy of towns? There ain't a soul in that town who's ever met you.”

She wouldn't go, so he gave up asking her and went himself, stopping at the wagon a minute to make sure Po Campo would take her her food. Call was there, looking restless. Since most of the experienced hands were gone, he had decided to stay with the herd and buy supplies tomorrow once some of them got back.

The herd was grazing peacefully on the rolling slopes. The hands who were left, boys mostly, looked melancholy at the thought of the opportunities they were missing.

”Come ride to town with me,” Augustus said to Call. ”This place is quiet as a church on Monday. I'll buy you a meal and we can sit and talk philosophy.”

”No, I'll stay,” Call said. ”I don't know a philosophy.”

”Your philosophy is to worry too much,” Augustus said. ”Jake would have gone with me quick enough if we hadn't hung him.”

”d.a.m.n it, he brought it on himself,” Call said.

”I know that, but when I spot a town I remember what a fine companion he was around supper time,” Augustus said.

He loped the five or six miles to Ogallala, feeling rather strange, for it had just hit him how much he did miss Jake Spoon. Many a time, returning from a scout on the Brazos, they had raced into Austin together and divided the night between whiskey, cards and women. Clara and Call would both be stiff with them for a week after such a carouse; Clara, if anything, softened slower than Call.

Now Jake was gone and Clara near. It seemed to him he might be wise not to go see her-just trail on into Montana and let the past be past. No woman had affected his heart in the way she had. The memory was so sweet he was almost afraid to threaten it by seeing what Clara had become. She might have become a tyrant-she had that potential, even as a girl. Or she might have become merely a worked-out, worn-down pioneer woman, her beauty gone and her spirit tamed. He might look at her and not feel a thing-in which case he would lose something he treasured. On the other hand, he might look at her and feel all that he had felt in their younger days-in which case riding off and leaving her wouldn't be very easy.

Then there was Lorena. In the last weeks she had proved sweeter than any woman he had known-more responsive than his wives, kinder than Clara. Her beauty had flowered again-the cowboys were always thinking of excuses to ride within twenty or thirty yards of them, so they could get a glimpse of it. He ought to consider himself lucky, he knew-everyone in the outfit, with the possible exception of Call, considered him lucky. He ought to let the past keep its glow and not try to mix it with what he had in the present.