all the way to Canada.”
“He likes to watch the grass,” Newt explained. “He’s always finding stuff. He’ll cook most anything he picks up.”
“Does he cook grass?” Lorena asked, interested. She had never seen Po Campo close up but was intrigued by the sight of the tiny figure walking day after day across the great plain.
“No, but he cooks things like grasshoppers once in a while,” Newt said.
Lorena laughed—a delightful sound to Newt.
As she blew on her coffee, she looked at Gus. She had spent many hours looking at him since he had rescued her. It was comfortable traveling with him, for he never got angry or scolded her, as other men had. In the weeks when she trembled and cried, he had expressed no impatience and made no demands. She had become so used to him that she had begun to hope the trip would last longer. It had become simple and even pleasant for her. No one bothered her at all, and it was nice to ride along in the early summer sun, looking at the miles and miles of waving grass. Gus talked and talked. Some of what he said was interesting and some of it wasn’t, but it was reassuring that he liked to talk to her.
It was enough of a life, and better than any she had had before. But she could not forget the other woman Gus had mentioned. The other woman was the one thing he didn’t talk about. She didn’t ask, of course, but she couldn’t forget, either. She dreaded the day when they would come to the town where the other woman lived, for then the simple life might end. It wouldn’t if she could help it, though. She meant to fight for it. She had decided to tell Gus she would marry him before they got to the town.
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