Lonesome Dove - By Larry McMurtry Page 0,413

was a cattleman’s paradise, and they were the only cattlemen in it. The grassy plains seemed limitless, stretching north. It was strange that they had seen no Indians, though. Often he mentioned this to Augustus.

“Custer didn’t see them either,” Augustus pointed out. “Not till he was caught. Now that we’re here, do you plan to stop, or will we just keep going north till we get into the polar bears?”

“I plan to stop, but not yet,” Call said. “We ain’t crossed the Yellowstone. I like the thought of having the first ranch north of the Yellowstone.”

“But you ain’t a rancher,” Augustus said.

“I guess I am now.”

“No, you’re a fighter,” Augustus said. “We should have left these damn cows down in Texas. You used them as an excuse to come up here, when you ain’t interested in them and didn’t need an excuse anyway. I think we oughta just give them to the Indians when the Indians show up.”

“Give the Indians three thousand cattle?” Call said, amazed at the notions his friend had. “Why do that?”

“Because then we’d be shut of them,” Augustus said. “We could follow our noses, for a change, instead of following their asses. Ain’t you bored?”

“I don’t think like you do,” Call said. “They’re ours. We got ’em. I don’t plan on giving them to anybody.”

“I miss Texas and I miss whiskey,” Augustus said. “Now here we are in Montana and there’s no telling what will become of us.”

“Miles City’s up here somewhere,” Call said. “You can buy whiskey.”

“Yes, but I’ll have to drink it indoors,” Augustus complained. “It’s cool up here.”

As if to confirm his remark, the very next day an early storm blew out of the Bighorns. An icy wind came up and snow fell in the night. The men on night herd wrapped blankets around themselves to keep warm. A thin snow covered the plains in the morning, to the amazement of everyone. The Spettle boy was so astonished to wake and see it that he refused to come out of his blankets at first, afraid of what might happen. He lay wide-eyed, looking at the whiteness. Only when he saw the other hands tramping in it without ill effect did he get up.

Newt had been curious about snow all the way north, but he had lost his jacket somewhere in Kansas, and now that snow had actually fallen he felt too cold to enjoy it. All he wanted was to be warm again. He had taken his boots off when he lay down to sleep, and the snow had melted on his feet, getting his socks wet. His boots were a tight fit, and it was almost impossible to get them on over wet socks. He went over to the fire barefoot, hoping to dry his socks, but so many of the cowboys were huddled around the fire that he couldn’t get a place at first.

Pea Eye had scooped up a handful of snow and was eating it. The Rainey boys had made snowballs, but all the cowboys were stiff and cold and looked threatening, so the Raineys merely threw the snowballs at one another.

“This snow tastes like hail, except that it’s soft,” Pea Eye observed.

The sun came out just then and shone so brightly on the white plains that some of the men had to shield their eyes. Newt finally got a place by the fire, but by then the Captain was anxious to move on and he didn’t get to dry his socks. He tried to pull his boots on but had no luck until Po Campo noticed his difficulty and came over with a little flour, which he sprinkled in the boots.

“This will help,” he said, and he was right, though getting the boots on still wasn’t easy.

The sun soon melted the thin snow, and for the next week the days were hot again. Po Campo walked all day behind the wagon, followed by the pigs, who bored through the tall grass like moles—a sight that amused the cowboys, although Augustus worried that the pigs might stray off.

“We ought to let them ride in the wagon,” he suggested to Call.

“I don’t see why.”

“Well, they’ve made history,” Augustus pointed out.

“When?” Call asked. “I didn’t notice.”

“Why, they’re the first pigs to walk all the way from Texas to Montana,” Augustus said. “That’s quite a feat for a pig.”

“What will it get them?” Call inquired. “Eaten by a bear if they ain’t careful, or eaten by us if they are. They’ve had a