The Lonesome Dove Chronicles (1-4)

by Larry McMurtry

  Dan and Roy Suggs were sitting with their backs to the creek, each with a jug between their legs. They were caught cold, their rifles propped on their saddles well out of reach.

  “Sit still, boys,” Call said, as soon as the crack of the shot died. Deets, who had the best angle, had shot little Eddie.

  Dan Suggs leaped to his feet and turned to see the bright sun glinting on three rifle barrels.

  “Who are you?” he asked. “We’re horse traders, so hold your damn fire.”

  He realized it would be suicide to draw and decided a bluff was his best chance, though the shock, plus the whiskey he had just drunk, made him unsteady for a moment. It was a moment too long, for a black man with a rifle stepped behind him and lifted his pistol. Roy Suggs was sitting where he was, his mouth open, too surprised even to move. Little Eddie lay flat on his back, stunned by his shoulder wound.

  Augustus took little Eddie’s pistol as he stepped over him, and in a moment had Roy’s. Deets got the rifles. Call kept his gun trained right on Dan Suggs, who, because of the sun, still could not see clearly whom he faced.

  Deets, with a downcast look, picked up Jake’s gun belt.

  “Why, Deets, do you think I’d shoot you?” Jake asked, though he knew too well where he stood, and if he had moved quicker would have shot, whatever the cost. A clean bullet was better than a scratchy rope, and his old partners could shoot clean when they wanted to.

  Deets, without answering, removed the rifle from Jake’s saddle scabbard.

  “Get your boots off, boys,” Call said, coming closer.

  “Goddamned if we will,” Dan Suggs said, his anger rising. “Didn’t you hear me? I told you we were horse traders.”

  “We’re more persuaded by that dead fellow over there,” Augustus said. “He says you’re murderers. And Mr. Wilbarger’s good horses says you’re horsethieves to boot.”

  “Hell, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dan Suggs said. He was genuinely furious at having been taken without a shot, and he used his anger to try and carry the bluff.

  “I bought these horses from Wilbarger,” he said. “I gave him thirty dollars apiece.”

  “You’re a black liar,” Augustus said calmly. “Take off your boots, like Captain Call said. It’s time to collect the boot guns.”

  Dan Suggs stood quivering, for it galled him to be caught and galled him more to be coolly given orders, even if it was Augustus McCrae who was giving them. Besides, he had a derringer in his right boot, and knew it was his last hope. One of his brothers was shot and the other too drunk and too stunned to take in what was happening.

  “I’ll be damned if I’ll go barefoot for you or any man,” Dan said.

  Augustus drew his big dragoon Colt and jammed the barrel into Dan’s stomach.

  “You can keep your socks, if you’re that refined,” he said.

  Call quickly knelt behind Dan Suggs and got the derringer.

  “Just ask Jake if we didn’t buy these horses,” Dan said. “Jake’s a friend of yours, ain’t he?”

  “Did you buy that old man?” Call asked. “Did you buy them two farmers you burned? Did you buy Wilbarger and his man and that boy?”

  Little Eddie sat up. When he saw that his shirt was drenched with blood, his face went white. “I’m bleeding, Dan,” he said.

  Jake looked at Call and Augustus, hoping one or the other of them would show some sign of concern, but neither would even look at him. Call covered Roy Suggs while Deets tied his hands with his own saddle strings. Augustus stood calmly, the barrel of the big Colt still stuck into Dan Suggs’s stomach. Dan’s face was twitching. Jake could see he longed to go for his gun—only he had no gun. Jake thought Dan might go anyway, his whole frame was quivering so. He might go, even if it meant getting shot at point-blank range.

  “This gun leaves a hole the size of a tunnel, Mr. Suggs,” Augustus said. “If you’d like to land in hell with a tunnel through you, just try me.”

  Dan quivered, his eyes popping with hatred. When Deets came over with some rawhide strings he snarled at him, baring his teeth. “Don’t you tie me, nigger boy,” he said. “I’ll not forget you if you do.”

  “You’re dying to try it, ain’t you?” Augustus said. “Go on. Try it. See what you look like with a tunnel through your ribs.”

  Dan held back, though he shook and snarled, while Deets tied him securely.

  “Tie Jake,” Call said, when Dan was secure. Augustus grinned and put the Colt back in its holster.

  “I guess you ain’t as hard as you talk, Mr. Suggs,” he said.

  “You sneaking son of a bitch, who do you think you are?” Dan said.

  “Deets don’t need to tie me,” Jake said. For a moment his spirits rose, just from the sound of Gus’s voice. It was Call and Gus, his old compañeros. It was just a matter of making them realize what an accident it had been, him riding with the Suggses. It was just that they had happened by the saloon just as he was deciding to leave. If he could just get his head clear of the whiskey he could soon explain it all.

  Little Eddie could not believe that he was shot and his brother Dan tied up. He was white and trembling. He looked at Dan in disbelief.

  “You said there wasn’t a man in Kansas that could take you, Dan,” Eddie said. “Why didn’t you fight?”

  Augustus went over and knelt by little Eddie, tearing his shirt so he could look at the wound.

  “You oughtn’t to listened to your big brother, son,” he said. “He was plumb easy to catch. This is just a flesh wound—the bullet went right through.”

  Call went over to Jake. Deets seemed hesitant to tie him, but Call nodded and covered Jake with his rifle while Deets tied his hands. As he was doing it Pea Eye and Newt came over the hill with the horses.

  “Call, he don’t need to tie me,” Jake said. “I ain’t done nothing. I just fell in with these boys to get through the Territory. I was aiming to leave them first chance I got.”

  Call saw that Jake was so drunk he could barely sit up.

  “You should have made a chance a little sooner, Jake,” Augustus said. “A man that will go along with six killings is making his escape a little slow.”

  “I had to wait for a chance, Gus,” Jake said. “You can’t just trot off from Dan Suggs.”

  “You shut your damn mouth, Spoon,” Dan Suggs said. “These friends of yours are no more than rank outlaws. I don’t see no badges on them. They got their damn gall, taking us to jail.”

  Pea Eye and Newt stopped and dismounted. Newt saw that Jake was tied like the rest.

  “Saddle these men’s horses,” Call said to the boy. Then he walked off toward the nearest trees.

  “Where’s he going?” Roy Suggs asked, finding his voice at last.

  “Gone to pick a tree to hang you from, son,” Augustus said mildly. He turned to Dan Suggs, who looked at him with his teeth bared in a snarl. “I don’t know what makes you think we’d tote you all the way to a jail,” Gus said.

  “I tell you we bought them horses!” Dan said.

  “Oh, drop your bluff,” Augustus said. “I buried Wilbarger myself, not to mention his two cowboys. We buried them farmers and we’ll bury that body over there. I imagine it’s all your doings, too. Your brothers don’t look so rough, and Jake ain’t normally a killer.”

  Augustus looked at Jake, who was still sitting down. “What’s the story on that one, Jake?” he asked.

  “Why, I merely said hello to a girl,” Jake said. “I didn’t know she was anybody’s wife, and the old bastard knocked me down with a shotgun. He was gonna do worse, too. It was only self-defense. No jury will hang you for self-defense.”

  Augustus was silent. Jake got to his feet awkwardly, for his hands were tied behind him. He looked at Pea Eye, who was standing quietly with Deets.

  “Pea, you know me,” Jake said. “You know I ain’t no killer. Old Deets knows it too. You boys wouldn’t want to hang a friend, I hope.”

  “I’ve done a many a thing I didn’
t want to do, Jake,” Pea Eye said.

  Jake walked over to Augustus. “I ain’t no criminal, Gus,” he said. “Dan’s the only one that done anything. He shot that old man over there, and he killed them farmers. He shot Wilbarger and his men. Me and the other boys have killed nobody.”

  “We’ll hang him for the killings and the rest of you for the horsetheft, then,” Augustus said. “Out in these parts the punishment’s the same, as you well know.

  “Ride with an outlaw, die with him,” he added. “I admit it’s a harsh code. But you rode on the other side long enough to know how it works. I’m sorry you crossed the line, though.”

  Jake’s momentary optimism had passed, and he felt tired and despairing. He would have liked a good bed in a whorehouse and a nice night’s sleep.

  “I never seen no line, Gus,” he said. “I was just trying to get to Kansas without getting scalped.”

  Newt had saddled the men’s horses. Call came back and took the ropes off the four saddles.

  “We’re lucky to have caught ’em by the trees,” he said. Newt felt numb from all that he had seen.

  “Have we got to hang Jake too?” he asked. “He was my ma’s friend.”

  Call was surprised by the remark. Newt was surprised too—it had just popped out. He remembered how jolly Jake had been, then—it was mainly on Jake’s visits that he had heard his mother laugh. It puzzled him how the years could have moved so, to bring them from such happy times to the moment at hand.

  “Yes, he’s guilty with the rest of them,” Call said. “Any judge would hang him.”

  He walked on, and Newt put his cheek for a moment against the warm neck of the horse he had just saddled. The warmth made him want to cry. His mother had been warm too, in the years when they first knew Jake. But he couldn’t bring any of it back, and Jake was standing not twenty yards away, weaving from drink, his hands tied, sad-looking. Newt choked back his feelings and led the horses over.

  The men had to be helped onto the horses because of the way their hands were tied. Little Eddie had lost a lot of blood and was so weak he could barely keep his seat.

  “I’ll lead yours, Jake,” Newt said, hoping Jake would realize he meant it as a friendly gesture. Jake had several days’ stubble on his face and looked dirty and tired; his eyes had a dull look in them, as if he merely wanted to go to sleep.

  Call took the rein of Dan Suggs’s horse, just in case Dan tried something—though there was little he could try. Augustus walked behind and Pea Eye led the other two horses. Deets went ahead to fix the nooses—he was good with knots.

  “Dan, ain’t you gonna fight?” little Eddie kept asking. He had never seen his brother tied up and could not quite believe it. That Dan had been outsmarted and taken without a battle shocked him more than the fact that he himself was about to be hung.

  “Shut up, you damn whining pup,” Dan said. “If you’d been standing guard this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “You never told him to,” Roy Suggs said. He too was in a daze, the result of shock and whiskey, but it annoyed him that Dan would try to put the blame on little Eddie.

  “Well, do I have to do everything?” Dan said. He was watching, hoping to get Call to relax a minute—he meant to kick the horse and try to run over him. It might startle everyone long enough that he could jump the horse down into the creekbed, where he would be hard to hit. He had said what he had merely to distract the crowd, but it didn’t work. Call kept the horse under tight control and in no time they came to the tree with the four dangling nooses.

  It took a while for Deets to fix the knots to his satisfaction. The twilight began to deepen into dusk.

  Jake tried to get his mind to work, but it wouldn’t snap to. He had the feeling that there ought to be something he could say that would move Call or Gus on his behalf. It made him proud that the two of them had caught Dan Suggs so easily, although it had brought him to a hard fix. Still, it cut Dan Suggs down to size. Jake tried to think back over his years of rangering—to try and think of a debt he could call in, or a memory that might move the boys—but his brain seemed to be asleep. He could think of nothing. The only one who seemed to care was the boy Newt—Maggie’s boy, Jake remembered. She had fat legs, but she was always friendly, Maggie. Of all the whores he had known, she was the easiest to get along with. The thought crossed his mind that he ought to have married her and not gone rambling. If he had, he wouldn’t be in such a fix. But he felt little fear; just an overpowering fatigue. Life had slipped out of line. It was unfair, it was too bad, but he couldn’t find the energy to fight it any longer.

  Deets finally got the nooses done. He mounted and rode behind each man, to carefully set the knots. Little Eddie submitted quietly, but Dan Suggs shook his head and struggled like a wildcat when Deets came to him.

  “Nigger boy, don’t you get near me,” he said. “I won’t be hung by no black nigger.”

  Call and Augustus had to grab his arms and hold him steady. Dan dug his chin into his chest, so that Deets had to grab his hair and pull his head back to get the rope around his neck.

  “You’re a fool, Suggs,” Augustus said. “You don’t appreciate a professional when you see one. Men Deets hangs don’t have to dance on the rope, like some I’ve seen.”

  “You’re yellowbellies, both of you, or you would have fought me fair,” Dan Suggs said, glaring down at him. “I’ll fight you yet, barehanded, if you’ll just let me down. I’ll fight the both of you right now, and this nigger boy too.”

  “You’d do better to say goodbye to your brothers,” Call said. “I expect you got them into this.”

  “They’re not worth a red piss and neither are you,” Dan said.

  “I’ll say this for you, Suggs, you’re the kind of son of a bitch it’s a pleasure to hang,” Augustus said. “If guff’s all you can talk, go talk it to the devil.”

  He gave Dan Suggs’s horse a whack with a coiled rope and the horse jumped out from under him. When Dan’s horse jumped, little Eddie’s bolted too, and in a moment the two men were both swinging dead from the limb.

  Roy Suggs looked pained. A brother dangled on either side of him. “I ought to have been second,” he said. “Little Eddie was the youngest.”

  “You’re right and I’m sorry,” Augustus said. “I never meant to scare that boy’s horse.”

  “That horse never had no sense,” Roy Suggs remarked. “If I was little Eddie I would have got rid of him long ago.”

  “I guess he waited too long to make the change,” Augustus said. “Are you about ready, sir?”

  “Guess so, since the boys are dead,” Roy Suggs said. “Right or wrong, they’re my brothers.”

  “It’s damn bad luck, having a big brother like Dan Suggs, I’d say,” Augustus said.

  He walked over to Jake and put a hand on his leg for a moment.

  “Jake, you might like to know that I got Lorie back,” he said.

  “Who?” Jake asked. He felt very dull, and for a second the name meant nothing to him. Then he remembered the young blond whore who had been so much trouble. She had put him off several times.

  “Why, Lorie—have you had so many beauties that you’ve forgotten?” Augustus said. “That damn outlaw took her away.”

  To Jake it seemed as remote as his rangering days—he could barely get his mind back to it. Call walked over. Now that they were about it he felt a keen sorrow. Jake had ridden the river with them and been the life of the camp once—not the steadiest boy in the troop, but lively and friendly to a fault.

  “Well, it’ll soon be dark,” he said. “I’m sorry it’s us, Jake—I wish it had fallen to somebody else.”

  Jake grinned. Something in the way Call said it amused him, and for a second he regained a bit of his old dash.

  “Hell, don’t worry about it, boys,” he said. “I’d a damn sight rather be hung by my friends than by a bunch of strangers. The thing is, I never meant no harm,” he added. “I didn’t know they was such a gun outfit.”

&nb
sp; He looked down at Pea Eye and Deets, and at the boy. Everyone was silent, even Gus, who held the coiled rope. They were all looking at him, but it seemed no one could speak. For a moment, Jake felt good. He was back with his old compañeros, at least—those boys who had haunted his dreams. Straying off from them had been his worst mistake.

  “Well, adiós, boys,” he said. “I hope you won’t hold it against me.”

  He waited a moment, but Augustus seemed dumbstruck, holding the rope.

  Jake looked down again and saw the glint of tears in the boy’s eyes. Little Newt cared for him, at least.

  “Newt, why don’t you take this pony?” he said, looking at the boy. “He’s a pacer—you won’t find no easier gait. And the rest of you boys divide what money’s in my pocket.”

  He smiled at the thought of how surprised they would be when they saw how much he had—it was that lucky week in Fort Worth he had to thank for it.

  “All right, Jake, many thanks,” Newt said, his voice cracking.

  Before he got the thanks out, Jake Spoon had quickly spurred his pacing horse high back in the flanks with both spurs. The rope squeaked against the bark of the limb. Augustus stepped over and caught the swinging body and held it still.

  “I swear,” Pea Eye said. “He didn’t wait for you, Gus.”

  “Nope, he died fine,” Augustus said. “Go dig him a grave, will you, Pea?”

  They buried Jake Spoon by moonlight on the slope above the creek and, after some discussion, cut down Roy Suggs and little Eddie, plus the old man Dan Suggs had killed, a drummer named Collins with a wagonful of patent medicines. There was a good lantern in the wagon, which, besides the medicines, contained four white rabbits in a cage. The old man had run a medicine show, evidently, and did a little magic. The wagon contained a lot of cheaply printed circulars which advertised the show.

  “Headed for Denver, I guess,” Call said.

  Dan Suggs they left hanging. Augustus took one of the circulars and wrote “Dan Suggs, Man Burner and Horsethief” on the back of it. He rode over and pinned the sign to Dan Suggs’s shirt.