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Chapter 22
WELL, I’M GOING TO MISS WANZ,” Augustus said, as he and Call were eating their bacon in the faint morning light. “Plus I already miss my Dutch ovens. You would want to move just as my sourdough got right at its prime.” “I’d like to think there’s a better reason for living in a place than you being able to cook biscuits,” Call said. “Though I admit they’re good biscuits.” “You ought to admit it, you’ve et enough of them,” Augustus said. “I still think we ought to just hire the town and take it with us. Then we’d have a good barkeep and someone to play the pianer.” With Call suddenly determined to leave that very day, Augustus found himself regretful, nostalgic already for things he hadn’t particularly cared for but hated to think of losing. “What about the well?” he asked. “Another month and we’d have it dug.” “We?” Call asked. “W
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Lonely Dove Chapter 23
ALTHOUGH HE KNEW they wouldn’t leave until the heat of the day was over, Newt felt so excited that he didn’t miss sleep and could hardly eat. The Captain had made it final: they were leaving that day. He had told all the hands that they ought to see to their equipment; once they got on the trail, opportunities for repair work might be scarce. In fact, the advice only mattered to the better-equipped hands: Dish, Jasper, Soupy Jones and Needle Nelson. The Spettle brothers, for example, had no equipment at all, unless you called one pistol with a broken hammer equipment. Newt had scarcely more; his saddle was an old one and he had no slicker and only one blanket for a bedroll. The Irishmen had nothing except what they had been loaned. Pea seemed to think the only important equipment was his bowie knife, which he spent the whole day sharpening. Deets merely got a needle and some pieces of rawhide and sewed a few rawhide patches on his old quilted pants. When they saw Mr. Augustus ride u
Lonely Dove Chapter 24
IN THE LATE AFTERNOON they strung a rope corral around the remuda, so each hand could pick himself a set of mounts, each being allowed four picks. It was slow work, for Jasper Fant and Needle Nelson could not make up their minds. The Irishmen and the boys had to take what was left after the more experienced hands had chosen. Augustus did not deign to make a choice at all. “I intend to ride old Malaria all the way,” he said, “or if not I’ll ride Greasy.” Once the horses were assigned, the positions had to be assigned as well. “Dish, you take the right point,” Call said. “Soupy can take the left and Bert and Needle will back you up.” Dish had assumed that, as a top hand, he would have a point, and no one disputed his right, but both Bert and Needle were unhappy that Soupy had the other point. They had been with the outfit longer, and felt aggrieved. The Spettle boys were told to help Lippy with the horse herd, and Newt, the Raineys and the Irishmen were left with the drags. Call saw t
Lonely Dove Chapter 25
JULY JOHNSON HAD BEENRAISED not to complain, so he didn’t complain, but the truth of the matter was, it had been the hardest year of his life: a year in which so many things went wrong that it was hard to know which trouble to pay attention to at any given time. His deputy, Roscoe Brown—forty-eight years of age to July’s twenty-four—assured him cheerfully that the increase in trouble was something he had better get used to. “Yep, now that you’ve turned twenty-four you can’t expect no mercy,” Roscoe said. “I don’t expect no mercy,” July said. “I just wish things would go wrong one at a time. That way I believe I could handle it.” “Well, you shouldn’t have got married then,” Roscoe said. It struck July as an odd comment. He and Roscoe were sitting in front of what passed for a jail in Fort Smith. It just had one cell, and the lock on that didn’t work—when it was necessary
Lonely Dove CHAPTER 1
“You pigs git,” Augustus said, kicking the shoat. “Head on down to the creek if you want to eat that snake.” It was the porch he begrudged them, not the snake. Pigs on the porch just made things hotter, and things were already hot enough. He stepped down into the dusty yard and walked around to the springhouse to get his jug. The sun was still high, sulled in the sky like a mule, but Augustus had a keen eye for sun, and to his eye the long light from the west had taken on an encouraging slant. Evening took a long time getting to Lonesome Dove, but when it came it was a comfort. For most of the hours of the day—and most of the months of the year—the sun had the town trapped deep in dust, far out in the chaparral flats, a heaven for snakes and horned toads, roadrunners and stinging lizards, but a hell for pigs and Tennesseans. There was not even a respectable shade tree within twenty or thirty miles; in fact, the actual l
Lonely Dove CHAPTER 2
Of course, real scouting skills were superfluous in a place as tame as Lonesome Dove, but Call still liked to get out at night,sniff the breeze and let the country talk. The country talked quiet; one human voice could drown it out, particularly if itwas a voice as loud as Augustus McCrae’s. Augustus was notorious all over Texas for the strength of his voice. On a stillnight he could be heard at least a mile, even if he was more or less whispering. Call did his best to get out of range ofAugustus’s voice so that he could relax and pay attention to other sounds. If nothing else, he might get a clue as to whatweather was coming—not that there was much mystery about the weather around Lonesome Dove. If a man lookedstraight up at the stars he was apt to get dizzy, the night was so clear. Clouds were scarcer than cash money, and cashmoney was scarce enough.There was really little in the way of a threat to be looked for, either. A coyote might sneak in and s
Lonely Dove CHAPTER 3
it was her one aim. It seemed to her she had learned to sweat atthe same time she had learned to breathe, and she was still doing both. Of all the places she had heard men talk about,San Francisco sounded the coolest and nicest, so it was San Francisco she set her sights on.Sometimes it seemed like slow going. She was nearly twenty-four and hadn’t got a mile past Lonesome Dove, whichwasn’t fast progress considering that she had only been twelve when her parents got nervous about Yankees and leftMobile.That much slow progress would have discouraged most women, but Lorena didn’t allow her mind to dwell on it. She hadher flat days, of course, but that was mostly because Lonesome Dove itself was so flat. She got tired of looking out thewindow all day and seeing nothing but brown land and gray chaparral. In the middle of the day the sun was so hot theland looked white. She could see the river
Lonely Dove CHAPTER 4
The border nights had qualities that he had come to admire, different as they were from the qualities of nights in Tennessee. In Tennessee, as he remembered, nights tended to get mushy, with a cottony mist drifting into the hollows. Border nights were so dry you could smell the dirt, and clear as dew. In fact, the nights were so clear it was tricky; even with hardly any moon the stars were bright enough that every bush and fence post cast a shadow. Pea Eye, who had a jumpy disposition, was always shying from shadows, and he had even blazed away at innocent chaparral bushes on occasion, mistaking them for bandits. Augustus was not particularly nervous, but even so he had hardly started down the street before he got a scare: a little ball of shadow ran right at his feet. He jumped sideways, fearing snakebite, although his brain knew snakes didn’t roll like balls. Then he saw an armadillo hustle past his feet. Once he saw
Lonely Dove CHAPTER 5
“A man that sleeps all night wastes too much of life,” he often said. “As I see it the days was made for looking and the nights for sport.” Since sport was what he had been brooding about when he got home, it was still in his thoughts when he arose, which he did about 4 A.M., to see to the breakfast—in his view too important a meal to entrust to a Mexican bandit. The heart of his breakfast was a plenitude of sourdough biscuits, which he cooked in a Dutch oven out in the backyard. His pot dough had been perking along happily for over ten years, and the first thing he did upon rising was check it out. The rest of the breakfast was secondary, just a matter of whacking off a few slabs of bacon and frying a panful of pullet eggs. Bolivar could generally be trusted to deal with the coffee. Augustus cooked his biscuits outside for three reasons. One was because the house was sure to heat up well enough anyway during th
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