Part 76 (1/2)

85.

NEWT, THE RAINEY BOYS and Pea Eye got to go into town the next afternoon. The fact that the first group drug back in ones and twos, looking horrible, in no way discouraged them. Jasper Fant had vomited all over his horse on the ride out, too beaten to dismount or even to lean over.

”You are a sorry sight,” Po Campo said sternly, when Jasper rode in. ”I told you it would be that way. Now all your money is gone and all you feel is pain.”

Jasper didn't comment.

Needle Nelson and Soupy Jones rode in next-they looked no different from Jasper, but at least their horses were clean.

”It's a good thing there's no more towns,” Needle said when he dismounted. ”I don't think I'd survive another town.”

”If that's the best Nebraska can do, I pa.s.s,” Soupy said.

After hearing all the reports, which merely confirmed his suspicions, Po Campo was reluctant to let Augustus borrow the wagon.

”Towns are full of thieves,” he argued. ”Somebody might steal it.”

”If they do, they'll have to steal it with me sitting in it,” Augustus said. ”I'd like to see the thief who could manage that.”

He had promised Lippy a ride to town. Lippy had grown homesick for his old profession and hoped at least to hear some piano music on his visit.

Call decided to ride in and help with the provisioning. He was trying to make an inventory of things they needed, and the fact that Po Campo was in a cranky, uncooperative mood didn't make things any easier.

”It's summertime,” Po said. ”We don't need much. Buy a water barrel and we'll fill it in the river. It is going to get very dry.”

”What makes you think it's going to get dry?” Augustus asked.

”It will get dry,” Po Campo insisted. ”We will be drinking horses' blood if we're not lucky.”

”I think I must have drunk some last night,” Jasper said. ”I never got sick enough to puke on my horse before.”

Newt and the other boys raced to town, leaving Pea Eye far behind, but once they got there they felt somewhat at a loss as to what to do first. For an hour or two they merely walked up and down the one long street, looking at the people. None of them had actually been in a building in such a while that they felt shy about going in one. They stared in the window of a big hardware store, but didn't go in. The street itself seemed lively enough-there were plenty of soldiers in sight, and men driving wagons, and even a few Indians. Of wh.o.r.es they saw none: the few women on the street were just matrons, doing their shopping.

The town abounded in saloons, of course, but at first the boys were too spooked to go in one. Probably they would be looked at, because of their age, and anyway they didn't have funds for drinking. What little they had must be saved for wh.o.r.es-at least that was their intention. But the fourth or fifth time they pa.s.sed the big general store their intentions wavered, and they all slipped in for a look at the merchandise. They stared at the guns: buffalo rifles and pistols with long blue barrels, and far beyond their means. All they came out with was a sack of h.o.r.ehound candy. Since it was the first candy any of them had had in months, it tasted wonderful. They sat down in the shade and promptly ate the whole sack.

”I wish the Captain would fill the wagon with it,” Ben Rainey said. The opportunity existed, for Augustus was just driving up to the dry-goods store in the wagon, and the Captain rode beside him on the h.e.l.l b.i.t.c.h.

”Why, he won't let us fill it with candy,” Jimmy Rainey said. Nonetheless, feeling bolder and more experienced, they went back in the store and bought two more sacks.

”Let's save one for Montana,” Newt said. ”There might not be no more towns.” But his cautions fell on deaf ears. Pete Spettle and the others consumed their share of the candy with dispatch.

While they were finis.h.i.+ng it they saw Dish Boggett come walking around the side of a saloon across the street.

”Let's ask him where the wh.o.r.es are,” Ben suggested. ”I doubt we can find any by ourselves.”

They caught up with Dish by the livery stable. He didn't look to be in high spirits, but at least he was walking straight, which was more than could be said for the men who had returned to camp.

”What are you sprouts doing in town?” he asked.

”We want a wh.o.r.e,” Ben said.

”Go around to the back of that saloon, then,” Dish said. ”You'll find plenty.”

Dish now rode a fine little mare he called Sugar. In disposition, she was the opposite of the h.e.l.l b.i.t.c.h. She was almost like a pet. Dish would take tidbits from his plate and feed them to her by hand. He claimed she had the best night vision of any horse he had ever seen-in all their stampedes she had never stepped in a hole.

He delighted in her so much that he always gave her a brus.h.i.+ng before he saddled her, keeping a little horse brush in his saddlebag just for that purpose.

”How much do they cost?” Jimmy Rainey asked, referring to the wh.o.r.es. The thought that some were only a few steps away made them all a little nervous.

”It depends on how long you intend to stay upstairs,” Dish said. ”I met a nice one named Mary, but they ain't all like her. There's one they call the Buffalo Heifer-somebody would have to offer me a month's wages before I'd get near her, but I expect she'd do for you sprouts. You can't expect top quality your first time off.”

As they were talking, a party of some half-dozen soldiers came riding up the street, led by the big scout, Dixon.

”There come them soldiers again,” Newt said.

Dish hardly glanced at the soldiers. ”I guess the rest of them got lost.” He had brushed Sugar and was just preparing to saddle her when the scout and the soldiers suddenly trotted over their way.

Newt felt nervous-he knew there had almost been serious trouble with the soldiers. He glanced at the Captain and Mr. Gus, who were loading a water barrel into the wagon. Evidently they had decided to take Po Campo's advice.

Dixon, who looked unG.o.dly big to Newt, rode his black gelding practically on top of Dish Boggett before he stopped. Dish, cool as ice, put the saddle blanket on the mare and paid him no mind.

”How much for the filly?” Dixon asked. ”She's got a stylish look.”

”Not for sale,” Dish said, reaching down for his saddle.

As he stooped, Dixon leaned over him and spat a stream of tobacco juice on the back of Dish's neck. The brown juice hit Dish at the hairline and dripped down under the collar of his loose s.h.i.+rt.

Dish straightened up and put his hand to his neck. When he saw the tobacco juice his face flushed.

”You dern cowboys are too fond of your horses,” Dixon said. ”I'm fair tired of being told your ponies ain't for sale.”

”This one ain't, for d.a.m.n sure, and anyway you won't be in no shape to ride when I get through with you,” Dish said, barely controlling his voice. ”I'd hate to think I'd let a man spit on me and then ride off.”

Dixon spat again. This time, since Dish was facing him, the juice hit him square in the breast. Dixon and the soldiers all laughed.

”Are you going to dismount or will you require me to come and drag you off that pile of soap bones you're riding?” Dish asked, meeting the big man's eye.

”Well, ain't you a tomcat,” Dixon said, grinning. He spat at Dish again, but Dish ducked the stream of tobacco juice and leaped for the man. He meant to knock the scout off the other side of the horse, but Dixon was too strong and too quick. Though no one had seen it, he held a long-barreled pistol in his off hand, and when Dish grappled with him he used it like a club, hitting Dish twice in the head with the b.u.t.t.

To Newt's horror, Dish crumpled without a sound-he slid down the side of Dixon's horse and flopped on his back on the ground. Blood poured from a gash over his ear, staining his dark hair. His hat fell off and Newt picked it up, not knowing what else to do.

Dixon stuffed his pistol back in its holster. He spat once more at Dish and reached to take the filly's reins. He reached down, undid the girth, and dumped Dish's saddle on the ground.

”That'll teach you to sa.s.s me, cowboy,” he said. Then he glanced at the boys. ”He can send the bill for this mare to the U.S. Army,” Dixon said. ”That is if he ever remembers there was a mare, when he wakes up.”

Newt was all but paralyzed with worry. He had seen the pistol b.u.t.t strike Dish twice, and for all he knew Dish was dead. It had happened so quickly that Ben Rainey still had his hands in the sack of candy.

All Newt knew was that the man mustn't be allowed to take Dish's horse. When Dixon turned to trot away, he grabbed the bridle bit and hung on. Sugar, pulled two different ways, tried to rear, almost lifting Newt off the ground. But he hung on.