Lonesome Dove - By Larry McMurtry Page 0,63

had no sooner spoken than he heard three horses coming from the north.

“If that ain’t them, we’re under attack,” Jake said.

“It’s them,” Augustus said. “A scout like you, who’s traveled in Montana, ought to recognize his own men.”

“Gus, you’d exasperate a preacher,” Jake said. “I don’t know what your dern horses sound like.”

It was an old trick of theirs, trying to make him feel incompetent—as if a man was incompetent because he couldn’t see in the dark, or identify a local horse by the sound of its trot.

“’I god, you’re techy, Jake,” Augustus said, just as Call rode up.

“Is this all there is or did you trot in and run the rest off?” he asked.

“Do them horses look nervous?” Augustus asked.

“Dern,” Call said. “Last time we was through here there was two or three hundred horses.”

“Maybe Pedro’s going broke,” Augustus said. “Mexicans can go broke, same as Texans. What’d you do with the vaqueros?”

“We didn’t find none. We just found two Irishmen.”

“Irishmen?” Augustus asked.

“They just lost,” Deets said.

“Hell, I can believe they’re lost,” Jake said.

“On their way to Galveston,” Newt said, thinking it might help clarify the situation.

Augustus laughed. “I guess it ain’t hard to miss Galveston if you start from Ireland,” he said. “However, it takes skill to miss the dern United States entirely and hit Pedro Flores’ ranch. I’d like to meet men who can do that.”

“You’ll get your chance,” Call said. “They don’t have mounts, unless you count a mule and a donkey. I guess we better help them out of their fix.”

“I’m surprised they ain’t naked, too,” Augustus said. “I’d had thought some bandit would have stolen their clothes by now.”

“Have you counted these horses, or have you been sitting here jawing?” Call said brusquely. The night was turning out to be more complicated and less profitable than he had hoped.

“I assigned that chore to Dish Boggett,” Augustus said. “It’s around forty.”

“Not enough,” Call said. “You take two and go back and get the Irishmen.”

He took his rope off his saddle and handed it to the boy.

“Go catch two horses,” he said. “You better make hackamores.”

Newt was so surprised by the assignment he almost dropped the rope. He had never roped a horse in the dark before—but he would have to try. He trotted off toward the horse herd, sure they would probably stampede at the sight of him. But he had a piece of luck. Six or eight horses trotted over to sniff at his mount and he easily caught one of them. As he was making a second loop and trying to lead the first horse over to Pea, Dish Boggett trotted over without being asked and casually roped another horse.

“What are we gonna do, brand ’em?” he asked.

Newt was irritated, for he would have liked to complete the assignment himself, but since it was Dish he said nothing.

“Lend ’em to some men we found,” he said. “Irishmen.”

“Oh,” Dish said. “I hate to lend my rope to an Irishman. I might be out a good rope.”

Newt solved that by putting his own rope on the second horse. He led them back to where the Captain was waiting. As he did, Mr. Gus began to laugh, causing Newt to worry that he had done something improperly after all—he couldn’t imagine what.

Then he saw that they were looking at the horse brands—H I C on the left hips.

“It just goes to show that even sinners can accomplish Christian acts,” Augustus said. “Here we set out to rob a man and now we’re in a position to return valuable property to a man who’s already been robbed. That’s curious justice, ain’t it?”

“It’s a wasted night, is what it is,” Call said.

“If it was me I’d make the man pay a reward for them horses,” Jake said. “He’d never have seen them agin if it hadn’t been for us.”

Call was silent. Of course they could not charge a man for his own horses.

“That’s all right, Call,” Augustus said. “We’ll make it up off the Irishmen. Maybe they got rich uncles—bank directors or railroad magnates or something. They’ll be so happy to see those boys alive again that they’ll likely make us partners.”

Call ignored him, trying to think of some way to salvage the trip. Though he had always been a careful planner, life on the frontier had long ago convinced him of the fragility of plans. The truth was, most plans did fail, to one degree or another, for one reason or another. He had survived as a