The Lonesome Dove Chronicles (1-4)

by Larry McMurtry

  Never before had she given any thought to marrying a man. It had not seemed a likely thing. She had had enough of the kind of men who came into the saloons. Some of them wanted to marry her, of course—young cowboys, mostly. But she didn’t take that seriously. Gus was different. He had never said he wanted to marry her, but he was handier than most at complimenting her on her beauty. He complimented her still, almost every day, telling her she was the most beautiful woman on the plains. They got along well; they didn’t quarrel. To her, it all said that he might want to marry her, when they stopped. She was glad he had waved the boy over for breakfast. The boy was harmless, even rather sweet and likable. If she was friendly to the boy, it might make Gus think better of her as a wife-to-be. Though he had still not approached her, she felt him stirring when they slept close at night, and she meant to see that he did approach her before they got to Ogallala. She meant to do what she could to make him forget the other woman.

  When Newt rode back to the herd he practically floated over the ground, he felt so happy. The death of Mouse was forgotten in the pleasure of remembering Lorena. She had smiled at him as he was mounting to leave.

  It was not lost on the cowboys that Newt had secured a rare invitation. As he loped back to the drags, many heads were turned his way. But the drive had started, and no one got much of a chance to question him until that evening, when they were all getting their grub.

  Dish, the friend who had relieved him of the burden of killing his own horse, was the most curious.

  “Did you get to see Lorie?” Dish asked point-blank. He still felt such love for Lorie that even speaking her name caused him to feel weak sometimes.

  “I seen her, she was drinking coffee,” Newt said.

  “Yes, she always took coffee in the morning,” Lippy said, demonstrating a familiarity with Lorena’s habits that offended Dish at once.

  “Yes, and I’m sure you spied on her every opportunity you got,” he said hotly.

  “It didn’t take no spying, she took it right in the saloon,” Lippy said. “It was watch or go blind.”

  He was aware, as all the hands were, that Dish was mighty in love, but Dish was not the first cowboy to fall in love with a whore, and Lippy didn’t feel he had to make too many concessions to the situation.

  “Dish don’t allow low types like us the right even to look at the girl,” Jasper remarked. He had met with nothing but rejection at the hands of Lorena, and was still bitter about it.

  “I bet Newt got a good look,” Soupy said. “Newt’s getting to an age to have an eye for the damsels.”

  Newt kept silent, embarrassed. He would have liked to brag a little about his visit, perhaps even repeat one of the remarks Lorena had made, but he was aware that he couldn’t do so without causing Dish Boggett to feel bad that it wasn’t him who had got the visit.

  “Is Lorie still pretty or has all this traveling ruint her looks?” Needle Nelson asked.

  “As if it could,” Dish said angrily.

  “She’s real pretty still,” Newt said. “Mr. Gus did most of the talking.”

  “Oh, Gus always does the most of it,” Pea Eye said. “If they’d just pitch their tent a little closer, we could all hear it. Gus has a loud voice.”

  “I wouldn’t care to listen,” Dish said. It rankled him continually that Gus had all of Lorena’s company, day after day.

  “I never seen such a jealous bug as you are, Dish,” Jasper said.

  Call had eaten quickly and left with Deets—the Arkansas was only a few miles away and he wanted to have a look at the crossing. They loped up to the river through the long prairie dusk and sat on the riverbank awhile. Even in the moonlight they could see that the current was strong.

  “I’ve always heard the Arkansas was swift,” Call said. “Did you try it?”

  “Oh, yes,” Deets said. “It took me down aways.”

  “It comes out of the same mountains as the Rio Grande,” Call said. “Just a different side.”

  “Reckon we’ll ever get back, Captain?” Deets asked. He had not planned to ask, but at mention of the Rio Grande he felt a sudden homesickness. He had been back and forth across the Rio Grande for so many years that it made him sad to think he might never see it again. The Rio Grande was shallow and warm, and no trouble to cross, whereas the farther north they went, the colder and swifter the rivers became.

  Call was surprised by the question. “Why, some of the boys will be going back, I guess,” he said. “I doubt that I’ll return myself,” he added, and hoped that Deets wouldn’t want to go either. He relied on Deets too much. None of the other hands had his judgment.

  Deets said no more about it, but his heart was heavy with a longing for Texas.

  Call looked up the river toward Colorado. “That dern bandit’s up there somewhere,” he said. “I wish Gus had got him.”

  Deets could tell by the grim way the Captain was looking toward the mountains that he wished he could go after the man. Pursuit was what he and the Captain did best, and now he was wishing he could pursue Blue Duck.

  Thinking to turn the Captain’s mind from the outlaw, Deets mentioned something he had considered keeping to himself. It was something he had noticed the day before while scouting to the east a few miles.

  “Wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Jake is around,” he said.

  “Jake?” Call asked. “Why would he be around?”

  “Might not be him, but his horse is around,” Deets said. “I crossed the track yesterday. It was that pacing horse he come home on.”

  “I’ll swear,” Call said. “Are you sure about the horse?”

  “Oh, yes,” Deets said. “I know the track. Four other horses with him. I guess Mr. Jake could have sold the horse.”

  “I doubt he would,” Call said. “Jake likes a pacer.”

  He thought the information over as they trotted back toward the herd. He had meant it when he told Gus he wanted no more to do with Jake Spoon. Jake had only come back to Lonesome Dove to use them for support, and no doubt he would try to do it again if he got in trouble. This time it would probably be worse trouble, too. Once a man like Jake—who had got by on dash and little else all his life—started sliding, he might slide faster and faster.

  “Oh, well,” Call said, “we ain’t far from Dodge. He may just be looking for a summer of gambling. Keep your eye out, though,” he added. “If you strike his track again, let me know.”

  Deets went on back to camp, but Call stopped a mile away and staked his mare. He considered riding over to see Gus and passing on the news, but decided it could wait until morning. News of Jake might disturb the girl. If he was right, and Jake was just headed for Dodge, there was nothing to worry about.

  He sat up much of the night, listening to the Irishman sing to the cattle. As he was listening, a skunk walked between him and the mare. It nosed along, stopping now and then to scratch at the dirt. Call sat still and the skunk soon went on its way. The Hell Bitch paid it no mind. She went on quietly grazing.

  71.

  “I’LL BE GLAD to get to Dodge,” Jake said. “I’d like a bath and a whore. And a good barber to shave me. There’s a barber there named Sandy that I fancy, if nobody ain’t shot him.”

  “You’ll know tomorrow, I guess,” Dan Suggs said. “I’ve never liked barbers myself.”

  “Dan don’t even like whores,” Roy Suggs said. “Dan’s hard to please.”

  Jake was cheered by the thought that Dodge was so close. He was tired of the empty prairie and the sullen Suggses, and was looking forward to jolly company and some good card games. He had every intention of wiggling loose from the Suggses in Dodge. Gambling might be his ticket. He could win a lot of money and tell them he’d had enough of the roving life. They didn’t own him, after all.

  It was a sunny day, and Jake rode along happily. Sometimes he got a lucky feeling—the feeling that he was meant for riches and beautiful women and that nothing could keep him down for long. The lucky feeling came to him as he rode, and the
main part of it was his sense that he was about to get free of the Suggs brothers. They were hard men, and he had made a bad choice in riding with them, but nothing very terrible had come of it, and they were almost to Dodge. It seemed to him he had slid into bad luck in Arkansas the day he accidentally shot the dentist, and now he was about to slide out of it in Kansas and resume the kind of enjoyable life he felt he deserved. Frog Lip was riding just in front of him, and he felt how nice it would be not to have to consort with such a man again. Frog Lip rode along silently, as he had the whole trip, but there was menace in his silence, and Jake was ready for lighter company—a whore, particularly. There were sure to be plenty of them in Dodge.

  In the afternoon, though, Dan Suggs, the man who was hard to please, saw something he liked: a herd of about twenty-five horses being driven south by three men. He rode over to a ridge and inspected the horses through his spyglasses. When he came back he had a pleased look on his face. At the sight of it Jake immediately lost his lucky feeling.

  “It’s old Wilbarger,” Dan said. “He’s just got two hands with him.”

  “Why, I’ve heard of him,” Jake said. “We returned some of his horses to him, out of Mexico. Pedro Flores had them. I never met Wilbarger myself.”

  “I’ve met him, the son of a bitch,” Dan said. “I rode for him once.”

  “Where’s he goin’ with them horses, back to Texas?” Roy asked.

  “He’s probably sold his lead herd in Dodge and has got another bunch or two headed for Denver. He’s taking his boys some fresh mounts.”

  Wilbarger and his horses were soon out of sight, but Dan Suggs made no move to resume the trip to Dodge.

  “I guess Dan’s feeling bloody,” Roy said, observing his brother.

  “I thought Wilbarger was rough,” little Eddie said.

  “He is, but so am I,” Dan Suggs said. “I never liked the man. I see no reason why we shouldn’t have them horses.”

  Roy Suggs was not greatly pleased by his brother’s behavior. “Have ’em and do what with ’em?” he asked. “We can’t sell ’em in Dodge if Wilbarger’s just been there.”

  “Dodge ain’t the only town in Kansas,” Dan said. “We can sell ’em in Abilene.”

  With no further discussion, he turned and rode southwest at a slow trot. His brothers followed. Jake sat for a moment, his lucky feeling gone and a sense of dread in its place. He thought maybe the Suggs brothers would forget him and he could ride on to Dodge, but then he saw Frog Lip looking at him. The black man was impassive.

  “You coming?” he asked—the first time on the whole trip that he had spoken to Jake directly. There was an insolence in his voice that caused Jake to flare up for a moment despite himself.

  “I guess if you watch you’ll find out,” Jake said, bitter that the man would address him so.

  Frog Lip just looked at him, neither smiling nor frowning. The insolence of the look was so great that for a moment Jake contemplated gunplay. He wanted to shoot the look off the black man’s face. But instead he touched his horse lightly with the spurs and followed the Suggs brothers across the plain. He felt angry—the barber and the whore he had been looking forward to had been put off. Soon he heard the black man’s horse fall in behind him.

  Dan Suggs traveled at a leisurely pace; they didn’t see Wilbarger or his horses again that day. When they spotted a spring with a few low trees growing by it, Dan even stopped for a nap.

  “You don’t want to steal horses in the daytime,” he remarked when he awoke. “It works better at night. That way you can put it off on Indians, if you’re lucky.”

  “We better pull the shoes off these horses then,” Roy Suggs said. “Indians don’t use horseshoes much.”

  “You’re a stickler for details, ain’t you?” Dan said. “Who’s gonna track us?” He lay back in the shade and put his hat over his eyes.

  “Wilbarger might, if he’s so rough,” little Eddie said.

  Dan Suggs just chuckled.

  “Hell, I thought we come up here to rob banks and regulate settlers,” Jake said. “I don’t remember hiring on to steal horses. Stealing horses is a hanging crime, as I recall.”

  “I never seen such a bunch of young ladies,” Dan said. “Everything’s a hanging crime up here in Kansas. They ain’t got around to making too many laws.”

  “That may be,” Jake said. “Horse stealing don’t happen to be my line of work.”

  “You’re young, you can learn a new line of work,” Dan said, raising up on an elbow. “And if you’d rather not learn, we can leave you here dead on the ground. I won’t tolerate a shirker.” With that he put his hat back over his face and went to sleep.

  Jake knew he was trapped. He could not fight four men. The Suggs brothers all took naps, but Frog Lip sat by the spring all afternoon, cleaning his guns.

  Late in the afternoon Dan Suggs got up and took a piss by the spring. Then he lay down on his belly and had a long drink of water. When he got up, he mounted his horse and rode off, without a word to anyone. His brothers quickly mounted and followed him, and Jake had no choice but to do the same. Frog Lip, as usual, brought up the rear.

  “Dan’s feeling real bloody,” little Eddie said.

  “Well, he gets that way,” Roy said. “I hope you don’t expect me to preach him a sermon.”

  “He don’t want them horses,” little Eddie said. “He wants to kill that man.”

  “I doubt he’ll turn down free horses, once he has them,” Roy said.

  Jake felt bitter that the day had turned so bad. It was his bad luck again—he couldn’t seem to beat it. If Wilbarger had been traveling even half a mile farther west, they would never have seen him and his horses, and they would be in Dodge, enjoying the comforts of the town. On that vast plain, spotting three men and some horses was a mere accident—as much a matter of luck as the bullet that killed Benny Johnson. Yet both had happened. It was enough to make a man a pessimist, that such things had started occurring regularly.

  They soon struck Wilbarger’s trail and followed it west through the sunset and the long dusk. The trail led northwest toward the Arkansas, easy to follow even in the twilight. Dan Suggs never slowed. They struck the river and swam it by moonlight. Jake hated to ride sopping wet, but was offered no choice, for Dan Suggs didn’t pause. Nobody said a word when they came to the river; nobody said one afterward. The moon was well over in the west before Dan Suggs drew rein.

  “Go find them, Frog,” he said. “I doubt they’re far.”

  “Do I shoot or not?” the black man asked.

  “Hell, no, don’t shoot,” Dan said. “Do you think I’d ride all this way and swim a river just to miss the fun? Come on back when you find ’em.”

  Frog Lip was back in a few minutes.

  “We nearly rode into them,” he said. “They’re close.”

  Dan Suggs had been smoking, but he quickly put his smoke out and dismounted.

  “You hold the horses,” he said to little Eddie. “Come on once you hear the shooting.”

  “I can shoot as good as Roy,” little Eddie protested.

  “Hell, Roy couldn’t hit his foot if it was nailed to a tree,” Dan said. “Anyway, we’re gonna let Jake shoot them—he’s the man with the reputation.”

  He took the rifle and walked off. Jake and the others followed. There was no sign of a campfire, no sign of anything but plains and darkness. Though Frog Lip had said the men were close, it seemed to Jake they walked a long time. He didn’t see the horses until he almost bumped into one. For a moment he thought of trying to grab a horse and run away bareback. The commotion would warn Wilbarger, and maybe one or two of the Suggs boys would get shot. But the horse quickly stepped away from him and the moment passed. He drew his pistol, not knowing what else to do. They had found the horses, but he didn’t know where the camp was. Frog Lip was near him, watching, Jake supposed.

  When the first shot came, he didn’t know who fired it, though he saw a flash from a rifle barrel. It seemed so far away
that he almost felt it must be another battle. Then gunfire flared just in front of him, too much to be produced by three men, it seemed. So much shooting panicked him for a second and he fired twice into the darkness, with no idea of what he might be shooting at. He heard gunfire behind him—it was Frog Lip shooting. He began to sense running figures, although it was not clear to him who they were. Then there were five or six shots close together, like sudden thunder, and the sound of a running horse. Jake could see almost nothing—once in a while he would think he saw a man, but he couldn’t be sure.

  “Frog, did you get him?” he heard Dan Suggs ask.

  “No, he got me, damn him,” he heard the black man say.

  “I swear I put three into him but he made it to that horse anyway,” Dan said. “You alive, Roy?”

  “I’m alive,” Roy Suggs said, from back near the horse herd.

  “Well, what are you doing over there?” Dan wanted to know. “The damn fight was over here.”

  “We want the horses, don’t we?” Roy asked, anger in his voice.

  “I wanted that goddamn Wilbarger worse,” Dan said. “What about you, Spoon?”

  “Not hurt,” Jake said.

  “Hell, you and Roy might as well have stayed in Dodge, for all the good you are in the dark,” Dan said.

  Jake didn’t answer. He was just glad he had not been forced to shoot anybody. It seemed ridiculous, attacking men in the dark. Even Indians waited until sunup. He took some hope from the fact that Frog Lip claimed to have been hit, though how anybody knew where to shoot was a mystery to him.

  “Where’s that goddamn kid?” Dan asked. “I told him to bring them horses. Old Wilbarger’s getting away. Where’d you get hit, Frog?”

  Frog Lip didn’t answer.

  “Goddamn the old son of a bitch,” Dan said. “I guess he’s killed Frog. Go get Eddie, Roy.”

  “You told him to come, I guess he’ll come,” Roy said.