Larry McMurtry - Lonesome Dove

By the time he lay down to sleep he was more than half convinced that Roscoe knew the truth and would put his mind at ease. Even so, as it was, his mind was far from at ease. He was tense with anger at Peach for being so open with her opinions, particularly the one about Ellie being gone for good.

Joe was sleeping with his mouth open, snoring softly. July wondered that he could sleep so soundly with his mother missing.

The stars were out and July lay awake all night, looking at them and wondering what to do. It occurred to him that Ellie was probably camped under the same stars, the same sky. He began to have strange thoughts. The stars looked so close together. As a boy he had enjoyed good balance and could cross creeks by stepping on stones and rocks. If only he could be in the sky and use the stars like stepping-stones. In no time he could find Ellie. If she went toward Kansas, then she was only a few stars to the north, and yet, on the earth, it would take him days to get to her.

The plains were still and silent, so silent that July felt that if he spoke Ellie ought to be able to hear him. If she was watching the stars, as he was, why wouldn't she know that he was thinking of her?

The longer he lay awake, the stranger he felt. He felt he was probably going crazy from all the strain. Of course the stars couldn't help. They were stars, not mirrors. They couldn't show Ellie what he was feeling. He dozed for a little while and had a dream that she had come back. They were sitting in the loft of their little cabin and she was smiling at him.

When he awoke and realized the dream wasn't true, he felt so disappointed that he cried. It had seemed so real, and Ellie had even touched him, smiling. He tried to go back to sleep so the dream would return, but he couldn't. The rest of the night he lay awake, remembering the sweetness of the dream.

IN THE MORNING, when July was making coffee, they began to hear the sounds of cattle. They were camped near a little creek and the flats were misty, so he couldn't see much, but over the mists he could hear cattle bawling and cowboys hollering at them. Probably a herd had been bedded nearby and the boys were trying to get them moving.

Joe was yawning and trying to get awake. The hardest part of traveling was trying to start early. Just when he was sleeping best, July would get up and start saddling his horse.

By the time the sun was beginning to thin out the mists, they had had their coffee and a bite of bacon and were horseback. The herd was in sight, spread out over the plain for three or four miles, thousands of cattle in it. Neither July nor Joe had ever seen a herd so large, and they paused for a moment to look at it. The morning plains were still dewy.

"How many is it?" Joe asked. He had never dreamed there could be so many cattle in one place.

"I don't know. Thousands," July said. "I've heard south Texas is nothing but cattle."

Though the herd was in progress, the camp crew wasn't. The cook was packing his pots and skillets into a wagon.

"I guess we ought to ask them if they've seen Roscoe," July said. "He could be south of us. Or they might have news of Jake."

They loped over to the wagon just as the wrangler turned loose the horse herd. The horses, fifty or sixty of them, were jumping and frisking, kicking up their heels and nickering at one another, glad to be moving. July and Joe waited until the wrangler had them headed north before trotting on toward the wagon. The cook wore an old black hat, and had a long, dirty beard.

"You're too late, boys," he said. "The hands just et me out of breakfast."

"Well, we've et," July said, noticing for the first time a man sitting on a tarp by the ashes of the campfire. The unusual thing about the man was that he was reading a book. His horse, a fine-looking black, was saddled and grazing a few yards away.

"Where would I find the boss?" July asked, addressing himself to the old cook.

"I'm the boss, that's why I've got time to read," the reading man said. "My name's Wilbarger." He wore iron-rimmed spectacles.

"I like to snatch a minute for Mr. Milton, and the morning's my only hope," Wilbarger added. "At night I'm apt to be in a stampede, and you can't read Mr. Milton during a stampede-not and take his sense. My days are mostly taken up with lunkheads and weather and sick horses, but I sometimes get a moment of peace after breakfast."

The man looked at them sternly through his glasses. Joe, who had hated what little schooling he'd had, was at a loss to know why a grown man would sit around and read on a pretty day.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you," July said.

"Are you a lawman?" Wilbarger asked in his impatient way.

"I am," July said.

"Then you're going to have to listen to some complaints about the law in this state," Wilbarger said. "I've never seen a place with less law. The farther south you go, the worse the horsethieves get. Along that border they're thicker than ticks."

"Well, I ain't from Texas, I'm from Arkansas," July said.

"It's a weak excuse," Wilbarger said, marking his place with a grass blade and standing up. "I didn't notice much law in Arkansas either. There's law of sorts in New Orleans, but out here it's every man for himself."

"Well, there's Texas Rangers but I guess they mostly fight the Indians," July said, wondering where the conversation would end.

"Yes, I met a couple," Wilbarger said. "They were excellent horsethieves themselves. They stole my remuda back from some sly Mexicans. Are you looking for a killer or what?"

"Yes, a man named Jake Spoon," July said. "He killed a dentist in Fort Smith."

Wilbarger tucked his book carefully into his bedroll and tossed the bedroll in the back of the wagon.

"You've overshot Mr. Spoon," he said. "He was recently seen in the town of Lonesome Dove, where he won twenty dollars from a hand of mine. However, he's headed this way. He partnered up with the gentlemen who got my horses back. If I were you I'd camp here and put this boy in school. They'll be along in two or three weeks."

"I thank you for the information," July said. "I don't suppose you've run across a man named Roscoe Brown along the trail."

"Nope, who'd he kill?" Wilbarger asked.

"Nobody," July said. "He's my deputy. It may be that he's lost."

"The name Roscoe don't inspire confidence," Wilbarger said. "People named Roscoe ought to stick to clerking. However, it's summertime. At least your man won't freeze to death. Any more people you're looking for?"

"No, just them two," July said, refraining from mentioning Elmira.

Wilbarger mounted. "I hope you hang Spoon promptly," he said. "I expect he's a card cheat, and card cheats undermine society faster than anything. If you find your deputy, see if you can't steer him into clerking."

With that he trotted over to the cook. "Are you coming with us, Bob?" he asked.

"No," the cook said. "I'm planning to marry and settle down here in north Texas."

"I hope you marry somebody who can cook," Wilbarger said. "If you do, let me know. When she gets ready to leave you, I'll hire her."

He looked around at Joe. "Need a job, son?" he asked. "We need a boy that don't ask questions and is handy with an ax. I don't know about your chopping skills, but you ain't asked a question yet."

Wilbarger seemed serious, and July was tempted to let Joe do it. Going north with a herd would be good experience for him. The main advantage, though, was that he himself could then travel alone, with just his thoughts. Without Joe to look after, he could better accomplish the main task ahead, which was to find Elmira.

Joe was startled. He had never expected to he offered a job with a cow outfit, and hearing the words was a thrill. But of course he couldn't take it-he had been assigned to July.