“I believe I embarrassed your friend by accusing him of being a whorer—would you say I did?” she asked.
“Yes, but it don’t take much to embarrass Woodrow Call,” he said. “He’s still stiff as a poker when it comes to women.”
“Stiff as a poker—do you mean that anatomically, sir?” Madame Scull asked, with a little laugh.
An old man with a rag was polishing the big brass knocker on the mansion’s front door. The old man looked drunk, but he straightened up promptly when he saw Madame Scull.
“Hello, Ben, this is Captain McCrae, he’s going to find Captain Scull and fetch him home,” she said. “We’ll be having tea in an hour—tell Felice we might appreciate a biscuit as well.”
Augustus thought that was odd. Why would it take an hour to make tea? Once in the door, though, he forgot about it; he had never supposed he would be in such a grand establishment—everything in the house excited his curiosity. Just inside the door was a great hollowed-out foot of some kind that held umbrellas and parasols and canes and walking sticks.
“I sure wouldn’t want to get stomped by a foot this big,” he said.
“No, you wouldn’t . . . it’s an elephant’s foot,” Madame Scull said. “That tusk over the mantel came from the same beast.”
Sure enough, a gleaming ivory tusk, a little yellowish and taller than a man, was mounted over the mantel. The whole house was full of curious objects and gadgets that he would have liked to look at, but Madame Scull gave him only a moment. In the next room a lovely yellow girl was polishing a long dining table with a cloth. He smiled at the girl but she didn’t acknowledge his smile.
“Don’t bring the tea into the bedroom, Felice, just leave it outside my door,” Inez said. “And don’t rush us, please. Captain McCrae and I have some serious matters to discuss. Do you take jam with your biscuits, Mr. McCrae?”
“Why, yes, I’d approve a little jam, if it’s no trouble,” he said.
“Why would it be trouble?” Madame Scull said. “Let us have a few dollops of jam, Felice.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the girl said.
Augustus wondered what it would be like to work with a blunt woman such as Madame Scull, but he was allowed no time to do more than nod at the girl. Madame Scull was ascending the long staircase and she seemed to expect him to follow.
On the second floor there was a long hall with high windows at both ends. A yellow bench stood against one wall. Gus was doing his best to hobble down the hall in his awkward boots when Madame Scull pointed at the bench and ordered him to sit.
“I’ve had enough of your hobbling, Captain, or may I call you Gus?” she asked.
“ ‘Gus’ will do, ma’am,” he said, taking the seat she pointed to.
“Let’s get those boots off—I can’t stand a hobbler,” Madame Scull said.
“I can take ’em off, ma’am, but it won’t be quick,” he said, a little surprised. “They’re tight as gloves.”
“I’ll help you, Gus . . . stick out your leg,” the lady said.
“What, ma’am?” he asked, confused.
“Stick out your leg, sir,” Inez demanded; when he obeyed she turned her back to him, straddled his leg, and took his boot in both hands.
“Now push,” she demanded. “Push with your other foot.”
Augustus did nothing of the sort; he was intensely embarrassed. Of course the rangers often helped one another off with recalcitrant boots by using that method—with a little pushing on the helpful ranger’s backside, the boot would usually come off.
But Madame Scull wasn’t a helpful ranger—she was the wife of Captain Scull. Besides, she was a female and a lady: he couldn’t stick up a dusty boot and push on her backside.
“Ma’am, I can’t, I’d be embarrassed,” he said.
Inez Scull showed no inclination to relinquish the foot she held between her legs. Her black skirt was bunched up around Gus’s ankle. Gus was so embarrassed he was blushing, but Inez Scull had her back to him and didn’t see the blush.
“Push with your other foot and push now!” she demanded. “I’m damned if I’ll tolerate any guff from you, Gus. I’ve helped Inish off with his boots a thousand times in this way. He says I’m better than a bootjack and I expect I am—so push!”
Gus wiped his foot a few times on the floor and gingerly set it against Madame Scull’s backside. He pushed as commanded, but not very hard, as Madame Scull tugged.
“You’re right, they’re a close fit, push harder,” Inez said.
Gus pushed harder, and Madame Scull tugged. To his relief the boot finally came off. She dropped his foot and he immediately withdrew his leg.
“The other one don’t fit as close—I can get it off myself,” he said.
Madame Scull was looking at him boldly—he had never had a woman look at him with quite such boldness.
“Give me the other foot and shut up!” she demanded. “Stick your leg out—let’s have it!”
Again, she straddled his leg. Since he had only a sock on his other foot now, Augustus was not quite so reluctant to push—he thought the best thing to do was finish the business of the boot removal and hope it would soon be time for tea.
He pushed, and Madame Scull quickly got the second boot off and dropped it beside its mate. She didn’t release his foot or his leg, though—not this time. Instead she held his foot tightly and began to rub herself against the leg that was now between hers. Augustus couldn’t see her face, but, again, he was deeply embarrassed. Why would the woman forget herself in that way?
He didn’t say a word. He preferred to pretend that his officer’s wife wasn’t astraddle him, rubbing his bony leg against herself. It was a predicament so unexpected that he could not think clearly.
Madame Scull continued with her activity for what seemed like several minutes. Gus began to hope, desperately, that a servant would wander upstairs on some chore, in which case surely she would stop her rubbing.
Just when he thought Madame Scull might be ready to stop she suddenly peeled off his sock. Once she had it off she stroked his bare foot for a minute and then threw the sock across the room.
“That sock’s too filthy to wash,” she said. “I’ll give you a pair of Inish’s, when you leave.”
“Well, I guess I ought to get along and help Woodrow, pretty soon, ma’am,” Gus said. He was beginning to be actively fearful, his suspicion being that Madame Scull was a madwoman—no doubt that was why Captain Scull had decided to leave.
Inez Scull didn’t reply. Instead, to his horror, she pulled his bare foot up under her skirt and began to rub it against herself. Then she reached back, grasped his other foot, peeled the sock off, and stuck that foot under her too. She began to sway from side to side, rubbing herself with first one foot and then the other. Gus couldn’t see her face, but he could hear her breathing, which was hoarse and raw.
Then Madame Scull dropped his feet and whirled on him. He had been pulled half off the bench by her exertions already. Before he could scoot back Madame Scull grabbed his belt and began to yank at it. She was breathing hoarsely and there was sweat on her forehead and cheeks.
“You said your friend Captain Call was stiff as a poker with the ladies—now let’s see about you,” she said.
Augustus suddenly realized what Inez Scull had been talking about when she made that remark in the yard. He felt feverish with embarrassment as Madame Scull proceeded to unbutton his pants. What would Clara think, if she knew?
But then, as Madame Scull opened his pants and began to probe in his long johns, Augustus remembered that Clara was getting married. In only two days she would be Clara Allen. What he did with Madame Scull or any woman would not be something she would want to know. The thought filled him with hopelessness, but, hopeless or not, Madame Scull was still there, hoarse and insistent. When he slipped down to the floor he thought, for a moment, that she might smother him with her skirts. But Clara was gone—gone forever. He had no reason to resist—in any case it was too late. Madame S
cull managed to scoot them over onto a big green rug in front of a closet of some kind.
“This will be better, Gussie,” she said. “We won’t be bumping our knees on this hardwood floor.”
“What about . . . ?” Gus said—he was still nervous about the servants; but he never got farther with his question. Madame Scull overrode it.
“Hush up, Gussie, let’s trot!” she said. “Just be my ranger boy, and let’s trot!”
35.
CALL WAS AT A LOSS to know what could be detaining Augustus. He had got himself well barbered, haircut and shave, and had a dentist look at a back tooth that had been bothering him from time to time. The dentist wanted to pull the tooth immediately, but Call decided to take his chances and keep it. He waited in Gus’s favorite saloon for two hours, hoping Gus would appear and they could decide what men to take on their search for Captain Scull.
Mrs. Scull had said she might require Augustus to have tea with her—but why would it be taking so long to sip tea? He inquired of the old Dutch bartender, Liuprand, how long tea took to make, thinking there might be some ceremony involved, one he didn’t understand.
“Tea . . . why, five minutes, if it’s a big pot,” Liuprand said. He was a small man with no skill at fisticuffs—in the course of trying to subdue unruly customers his nose had been broken so many times that it now bore some resemblance to the fat end of a squash.
Call had already decided that he wanted to take the black man, Deets, who had been the most useful member of the company on the recent trip north. Deets could cook and sew and even doctor a little, and had shown himself able to work whatever the weather.
He knew he could not linger over his choosing too much longer. The sun was setting; the men chosen would be expected to leave when it rose at daybreak. He wanted to ask Long Bill Coleman to go with them—there was no steadier man available than Long Bill Coleman—but he had just been reunited with his wife, Pearl, and might not feel like leaving her again, so abruptly. Even if Long Bill wanted to go, Pearl might not be willing to relinquish him again, so soon.
No more, for that matter, would Maggie want to see him leave again, so quickly. He dreaded having to go inform her of the order. She had brought up the subject of a baby, a problem he would hardly have time to consider, given all he had to do before leaving. In fact, he would have liked to linger with Maggie a few days and let her indulge him and feed him beefsteak. His dread at having to tell her the Governor was sending them off again was so strong that he had three whiskeys, an unusual thing for him. It was not something he would have done had Gus McCrae come promptly.
Call’s suspicion was that Augustus was somewhere in the Forsythe store, spooning with Clara. It was a strong enough suspicion that he went outside and sent Pea Eye Parker across the street to check. Pea Eye had few friends; he was merely sitting in front of the barbershop when Call sent him on the errand. Call liked the tall lanky boy; he thought he might take him with them if Gus had no objection.
Pea Eye was back in the saloon before Call had had much time to even lift his glass.
“Nope, he ain’t in the store—I asked the lady,” Pea Eye said. “She ain’t seen him since the two of you left for the Governor’s, that’s what she said to tell you.”
“Now, this is a dern nuisance,” Call said. “I need to pick the men and get them together. How can I make decisions with Captain McCrae if he’s disappeared?”
Jake Spoon wandered into the saloon about then and heard the discussion.
“Maybe he got kidnapped,” he said, mainly in jest.
“He just went to take tea with Madame Scull, I can’t imagine what’s detaining him.”
“Oh,” Jake said. He got a kind of funny look on his face.
“What’s wrong, Jake? You look like you et a bug,” Pea Eye said.
Jake was thinking that he knew exactly what Captain McCrae was doing, if he was with Madame Scull. He remembered his own hot actions with her, in the closet, all too well—the memories of their active lust were a torment to him at night.
“I ain’t et no bug—I ain’t that green,” Jake replied. “I just swallowed wrong.”
“But you ain’t eating nothing,” Pea Eye persisted. “What did you swallow, anyway?”
“Because I had air in my mouth, you fool,” Jake said, irritated by Pea Eye’s questioning.
“Captain, if you’re going off again, can I go?” Jake asked, boldly. “There ain’t much to do in town, with the boys gone.”
The question took Call unprepared. In fact, the new assignment took him unprepared. The Governor, mainly to placate Madame Scull, had given them a task that seemed more ridiculous the longer he thought about it. There were thousands of miles to search, and the man they were looking for had the tracker with him. Captain Scull’s departure had been wild folly to begin with, and now he and Augustus were being asked to compound the folly.
“I’ll discuss it with Captain McCrae, Jake,” Call said.
“I’m anxious to go if there’s a place,” Jake said. He thought it unjust that Pea Eye had got to go on the last expedition, while he had had to stay and run errands for Stove Jones and Lee Hitch, two rangers who had both suffered broken limbs from trying to ride half-broken horses. Though unable to travel, the two men were easily able to come up with twenty or thirty errands a day that they demanded Jake run. Mainly, they themselves stayed in their bunks and drank whiskey. On occasion they even tried to get him to fetch them whores.
Now there was another expedition forming, and Jake was determined to go; life in Austin had become so boresome that he’d even put his scalp at risk rather than stay. If the captains wouldn’t take him, he meant to quit the rangers and try to get on as a cowboy on one of the big ranches down south of San Antonio.
Call grew more and more vexed. He was also a little drunk, thanks to Gus’s lagging, and needed to get on with their decision making. He got up and left the barroom, meaning to walk up to Long Bill Coleman’s house—or rather, Pearl’s. Long Bill never had a cent to his name, but Pearl had been left a good frame house by her father, a merchant who had been ambushed and killed by the Comanches while on a routine trip to San Antonio. Call was on his way to see whether Long Bill had the appetite for more travel when he happened to spot Augustus, coming down the street in the deep dusk. Augustus usually strolled along at a brisk pace, but now he was walking slowly, as if exhausted. Call wondered if his friend had fallen ill suddenly—in the Governor’s office he had been somber, but not sick.
“Where have you been? We need to be choosing our men and getting them ready,” Call said, three hours of frustration bursting out of him.
“You choose, Woodrow, all I want is a bottle and a pallet,” Augustus said.
“A pallet? Are you sick?” Call asked. “It’s not even good dark.”
“Yes, sick of Austin,” Gus said. “I wish we were leaving right this minute.”
Call was puzzled by the change in his old friend. All energy and spirit seemed to have drained out of him—and Gus McCrae was a man who could always be counted on for energy and spirit.
“You didn’t say where you’d been,” Call said.
Augustus turned and pointed up the hill, toward the Scull castle, its turrets just visible in the darkening sky.
“Up there—that’s where I’ve been,” Augustus said.
“Gus, it’s been three hours—you must have drunk a fine lot of tea,” Call remarked.
“Nope, we never got around to the tea,” Augustus said. “Not the tea and not the biscuits, either. And while we’re on the subject I don’t think we ought to bring the Captain back.”
“Why not?” Call asked. “That’s the only reason we’re going, to bring him back. Of course, we’ve got to find him first.”
“You don’t know Madame Scull, Woodrow,” Gus said. “I’d say running off might be the Captain’s only chance.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Call said. “I’ve no doubt they squabble, but they’ve been marrie
d nearly twenty-five years—the Captain told me that himself.”
“He’s a better man than me, then,” Augustus said. “I wouldn’t last no twenty-five years. Twenty-five days would put me under.”
Then, without more comment, he walked off toward the bunkhouse, leaving Woodrow Call more puzzled than he had been before.
36.
WHEN CALL CAME IN with his saddlebags over his shoulder, Maggie’s spirits sank. She was too disappointed to speak. Woodrow only brought his saddlebag into her rooms when he was leaving early—he was meticulous about checking his gear and would spend an hour or more at his task whenever he had to leave.
“You’ve only been here a day,” she said sadly. “We haven’t even talked about the baby.”
“Well, you ain’t having it tomorrow, and this may be a short trip,” he said, not unkindly. “I expect we can discuss it when I come back.”
What if you don’t come back? she thought, but she didn’t say it. If she spoke it would only anger him and she would risk losing the little sweet time they might have. Austin was full of widows whose husbands had ridden off one morning, like Pearl Coleman’s father, and never come back. What Maggie felt was the fear any woman felt when her man had to venture beyond the settled frontier; and even the settled frontier was far from being really safe. Every year, still, settlers were killed and women and children stolen from their cabins, almost within sight of Austin. There was not much safety in town, but there was no safety where Woodrow had to go.
Worry about him sank deep in Maggie’s gut, where it mixed with another grave worry: the question of what she would do if Woodrow refused to marry her, or accept her child as his. A woman with a child born out of wedlock had no hope of rising, not in Austin. If she wanted to raise the child properly she would have to move to another town and try to pass herself off as a widow. It would be hard, so hard that Maggie feared to think about it. Unless Woodrow helped her she would be as good as lost, and the child as well.
The Lonesome Dove Chronicles (1-4) Page 72
