Larry McMurtry - Lonesome Dove

There were nearly forty soldiers. The ponies in the remuda began to nicker at the sight of so many strange horses. Call and Augustus loped out and met them a half mile away, for the herd was looking restive at the sight of the riders.

The leader of the troop was a small man with a gray mustache, who wore a Captain's bars. He seemed irritated at the sight of the herd. It was soon plain that he was drunk.

Beside him rode a large man in greasy buckskins, clearly a scout. He was bearded and had a wad of tobacco in his jaw.

"I'm Captain Weaver and this is Dixon, our scout," the Captain said. "Where the hell do you men think you're taking these cattle?"

"We thought we were headed for Montana," Augustus said lightly. "Where are we, Illinois?"

Call was irritated with Gus. He would make a joke.

"No, but you'll wish you were if Red Cloud finds you," Captain Weaver said. "You're in the middle of an Indian war, that's where you are."

"Why in hell would anybody think they wanted to take cattle to Montana?" Dixon, the scout, said. He had an insolent look.

"We thought it would be a good place to sit back and watch 'em shit," Augustus said. Insolence was apt to bring out the comic in him, as Call knew too well.

"We've heard there are wonderful pastures in Montana," Call said, hoping to correct the bad impression Gus was giving.

"There may be, but you cowpokes won't live to see them," Dixon said.

"Oh, well," Augustus said, "we wasn't always cowpokes. We put in some twenty years fighting Comanches in the state of Texas. Don't these Indians up here fall off their horses like other Indians when you put a bullet or two in them?"

"Some do and some just keep coming," Captain Weaver said. "I didn't come over here to talk all morning. Have you men seen any sign?"

"Our scout didn't mention any," Call said, waving to Deets.

"Oh, you've got a nigger for a scout," Dixon said. "No wonder you're lost."

"We ain't lost," Call said, annoyed suddenly, "and that black man could track you across the coals of hell."

"And bring you back on a pitchfork, if we asked him too," Augustus added.

"What makes you think you can say things like that to us?" Captain Weaver said, flushing with anger.

"Ain't it still a free country?" Augustus asked. "Who asked you to ride up and insult our scout?"

Deets came loping up and Call asked him if he had seen Indian sign.

"None between here and the river," Deets said.

A pale-looking young lieutenant suddenly spoke up.

"I thought they went east," he said.

" We went east," Weaver said. "Where do you think we've been for the last week?"

"Maybe they went farther and faster," Augustus said. "Indians usually do. From the looks of those nags you're riding they could probably outrun you on foot."

"You're a damn impertinent man," Weaver said. "Those Indians killed a buffalo hunter and a woman, two days ago. Three weeks ago they wiped out a family southeast of here. If you see them you'll wish you'd kept your damn beeves in Texas."

"Let's go," Call said, abruptly turning his horse.

"We need horses," Captain Weaver said. "Ours are about ridden down."

"Ain't that what I said that you thought was so impertinent?" Augustus remarked.

"I see you've got extras," Weaver said. "We'll take 'em. There's a man who sells horses west of Ogallala. You can buy some more there and send the Army a bill."

"No, thanks," Call said. "We like the ones we've got."

"I wasn't asking," Weaver said. "I'm requisitioning your horses."

Augustus laughed. Call didn't. He saw that the man was serious.

"We need 'em," Dixon said. "We've got to protect this frontier."

Augustus laughed again. "Who have you protected lately?" he asked. "All you've told us about are people you didn't protect."

"I'm tired of talking," Weaver said. "Go get the horses, Jim. Take a couple of men and pick out good ones."

"You can't have any horses," Call said. "You have no authority to requisition stock from us."

"By God, I'll have those horses or I'll have your hides," Weaver said. "Go get 'em, Jim."

The young lieutenant looked very nervous, but he turned as if to ride over to the herd.

"Hold on, son, the argument ain't over," Augustus said.

"You'd defy an officer of the U.S. Army?" Weaver asked.

"You're as close to that horse trader in Ogallala as we are," Call pointed out.

"Yes, but we're going the other way," Weaver said.

"You were headed this way when you spotted us," Augustus said. "When'd you change your mind?"

Dixon, the big scout, was listening to the conversation with contempt in his expression. The contempt was as much for Weaver as for them.

Captain Weaver turned to the young man. "I gave you an order. These men are all bluff. They're just cowboys. Go get the horses."

As the young man passed, Augustus reached down and caught his bridle.

"If you want them horses, why don't you go get 'em?" he said. "You're the Captain."

"I call this treason," Weaver said. "You men can be hung for treason."

Call had been looking over the rest of the troop. Throughout his career in the Rangers he had been bothered by how sluggishly the cavalry performed, and the troop he saw watching the proceedings looked more sluggish than most. Half the men had gone to sleep in their saddles the moment the column stopped, and the horses all looked as if they needed a month off on good grass.

"How far is Ogallala?" Call asked.

"I'm not interested in Ogallala," Weaver said. "I'm interested in Red Cloud."

"We don't know this Red Cloud," Augustus said. "But if he's much of a war chief you better hope you don't catch him. I doubt an Indian would even consent to eat them ponies you're riding. I never saw a worse-mounted bunch of men."

"Well, we've been out ten days, and it's none of your concern," Weaver said, trembling with indignation. Although Augustus was doing most of the talking, it was Call whom he looked at with hatred.

"Let's go," Call said. "This is pointless talk." He saw that the little Captain was keyed up to the point where it wouldn't take much to provoke him into an explosion.

"Jim, get them horses," Weaver said.

"No," Call said. "You can't have our horses. And I'll give you some advice, too. Your troop's exhausted. If you was to find Indians you'd be the one's massacred, most likely. You don't just need fresh horses, you need fresh men."

"What I don't need is advice from a goddamn cowboy," Weaver said.

"We've fought Comanches and Kiowas and Mexican bandits for twenty years and we're still here," Call said. "You'd do well to listen."

"If I see you in town I'll box your goddamn ears," Dixon said, addressing himself to Call.

Call ignored the man. He turned and started to ride away. Augustus released the young lieutenant's bridle.

"Leave me that nigger," Weaver said. "I've heard they can smell Indians. They're just red niggers, anyway."

"No," Call said. "I'd be afraid you'd mistreat him."

They went to the wagon. When they turned to look, the cavalry troop was still sitting there.

"Reckon they'll charge?" Augustus asked.

"Charge a cow herd?" Call said. "I wouldn't think so. Weaver's mad, but not that mad."

They waited, but the cavalry merely sat on the ridge for a few minutes and then turned and rode away.

THAT AFTERNOON they crossed the Platte River just east of Ogallala and turned the herd northwest. From the slopes north of the river they saw the little collection of shacks and frame buildings that made up the town. The cowboys were so entranced by the sight that they could hardly keep their minds on their business long enough to drive the cattle to a good bed-ground.

Call tried to caution them a little, mentioning that there were said to be Indians on the rampage, but the men scarcely heard him. Even Dish Boggett was in a fever to go. Call let six men go in first: Dish, Soupy, Bert, Jasper, Needle and the Irishman. They all put on fresh shirts and raced away as if a hundred Comanches were after them.