Lonesome Dove - By Larry McMurtry Page 0,114

named Greasy, and the smaller, a bay, they called Kick Boy, out of respect for his lightning rear hooves. They had not been worked very much, there seldom having been a need to take the wagon anywhere. It was theoretically for rent, but rarely got rented more than once a year. Greasy and Kick Boy were an odd-looking team, the former being nearly four hands higher than the latter. Augustus hitched them to the wagon, while Call went to inspect the remuda, meaning to weed out any horses that looked sickly.

“Don’t weed out too many,” Augustus said. “We might need to eat ’em.”

Dish Boggett, who had had little sleep and had not enjoyed the little, found the remark irritating.

“Why would we need to eat the dern horses, with three thousand cattle right in front of us?” he asked. He had spent hours riding around the herd, with a tight wad of anger in his breast.

“I can’t say, Dish,” Augustus said. “We might want to change our fare, for all I know. Or the Sioux Indians might run off the cattle. Of course, they might run off the horses too.”

“Happened to us in that Stone House fight,” Pea remarked. “They set fire to the grass and I couldn’t see a dern thing.”

“Well, I ain’t you,” Dish informed him. “I bet I could see my own horse, fire or no fire.”

“I’m going to town,” Augustus said. “You boys will stand and jabber all day. Any of you want anything brought? It has to be something that will fit in this wagon.”

“Bring me five hundred dollars, that’ll fit,” Jasper said.

There was general laughter, which Augustus ignored. “What I ought to bring is a few coffins,” he said. “Most of you boys will probably be drownt before we hit the Powder River.”

“Bring a few jugs, if you see any,” Jasper said. The fear of drowning was strong in him, and Gus’s remark spoiled his mood.

“Jasper, I’ll bring a boat if I notice one,” Augustus said. He caught Bolivar staring at him malevolently.

“Come on, if you’re coming, Bol,” he said. “No reason for you to go north and drown.”

Bol was indeed feeling terrible. They only talked of going, not of coming back. It might be he would never see Mexico again, or his lovely daughters, if he left. And yet, when he looked across the river and thought of his village, he just felt tired. He was too tired to deal with a disappointed woman, and much too tired to be a bandit.

Instead of climbing in the wagon, he turned away and sat down near the pigs. They had found a cool spot where the water barrel had dripped, and were lying on their stomachs, watching the proceedings alertly.

“If I ain’t back in a month, you girls feel free to start without me,” Augustus said. Then he drove off, amused that Dish Boggett looked so out of sorts just from being in love with a woman who didn’t want him. It was a peril too common to take seriously.

A half mile from the main camp he came upon the very woman who had given Dish the pain. She was attempting to cook some fryback, and was getting no help from Jake Spoon, who hadn’t even provided her with a good fire. Jake was sitting on his bedding, his hair sticking up in back, trying to dig a thorn out of his hand with a pocketknife.

Augustus stopped the team and got down to chat a minute.

“Jake, you look like you slept standing on your head,” he said. “Is that a bullet you’re digging out? Has she shot you already?”

“Who invited you to breakfast?” Jake said.

“I’ve et,” Augustus said. “I just stopped by to set the table, so you two could dine in style.”

“Hello, Gus,” Lorie said.

“Don’t start no conversation, else he’ll stay all day,” Jake said. “I’d forgotten what a pest you are, Gus.”

He had got the thorn in his thumb hobbling the horses the night before, and had been unable to get it out in the dark. Now his thumb was swollen to twice its size, for a green mesquite thorn was only slightly less poisonous than a rattlesnake. Besides, he had slept badly on the stony ground, and Lorie had refused him again, when all he wanted was a little pleasure to take his mind off his throbbing thumb. They were camped only two miles from town and could easily have ridden back and slept comfortably in the Dry Bean, but when he suggested