Larry McMurtry - Lonesome Dove

Only Po Campo seemed to thrive in the weather. He still relied largely on his serape, plus an old scarf he had found somewhere, and he annoyed the men by nagging them to go shoot a bear. His theory was that bear meat would help them get used to the weather. Even if it didn't, a bearskin might come in handy.

"Yes, and them dern bears probably think a little man meat would come in handy," Soupy observed.

Pea Eye, the tallest man in the group, had developed a new fear, which was that he would be swallowed up in a snowdrift. He had always worried about quicksand, and now he was in a place where all he could see, for miles around, was a colder version of quicksand.

"If it was to cover you up, I reckon you'd freeze," he said, over and over, until the men were tired of hearing it. Most of the men were tired of hearing one another say anything-the complaints characteristic of each had come to bore them thoroughly as a group.

Newt found that he had no urge either to talk or listen, but he did have an urge to stay warm, and he spent as much time by the fire as he honorably could. The only parts of his body that he was still conscions of were his hands, feet and ears, all of which were dreadfully cold. When the storm abated and they rode out to check the cattle he tied an old flannel shirt over his ears and they still felt frozen.

The livestock weathered the storm fairly well, although some of the cattle had drifted far south and had to be pushed back toward the Milk.

Even so, within ten days of the blizzard, a sizable rough log house had been built, complete with fire place and chimney, both the work of Po Campo. He took advantage of a few days' thaw to make a great quantity of mud bricks, all of which froze hard with the next freeze. The roof had hardly been on the cabin a day when the next blizzard hit. This time, though, the men were comparatively warm.

To their amazement, Captain Call refused to live in the house. He set up the old tent of Wilbarger's in a sheltered spot on the creek, and spent his nights in it, sometimes building a small fire in front of it.

Every morning, the men expected to come out and find him frozen; instead, he came in every morning and found them sleeping too late, reluctant to leave their blankets for the chill.

But there were still corrals to build, and a smokehouse, and improvements on the cabin. Call saw that the men stayed at work while he himself did most of the checking on the livestock, sometimes taking Newt with him on his rounds. He killed several buffalo and taught Newt how to quarter them.

Old Hugh Auld came and went at will on his spotted pony. Though he talked constantly while he was with the crew, he often developed what he called lonesome feelings and disappeared for ten days at a time. Once in a prolonged warm spell he came racing in excitedly and informed Call that there was a herd of wild horses grazing only twenty miles to the south.

Since the Hat Creek remuda was not in the best of shape, Call decided to go see about the horses. They had a great stroke of luck and caught them in a box canyon only fifteen miles from the headquarters. The horses were smallish, but still fat from a summer's grazing. Bert Borum, the best roper in the outfit, caught eighteen of the horses and they were brought back, hobbled, to the remuda.

True to his word, Dish Boggett drew his wages and left the day after they caught the wild horses. Call had assumed the blizzards would have taught the young man the folly of leaving, and was annoyed when Dish asked for his pay.

"It's no time to be traveling in country you don't know," Call said.

"I pointed that herd the whole way up here," Dish said stubbornly. "I guess I can find my way back. Besides, I got a coat."

Call had little money on him, but he had arranged for credit in the little bank in Miles City and he wrote Dish out an order for his wages, using the bottom of a frying pan to rest his tablet on. It was just after breakfast and a number of the hands were watching. There had been a light snowfall the night before and the plains were white for miles around.

"Dern, we might as well hold the funeral right now," Soupy said. "He won't even make it to the Yellowstone, much less to Nebraska."

"It's that whore," Jasper said. "He's in a hurry to get back before somebody beats his time."

Dish reddened and whirled on Jasper. "She ain't a whore," he said. "You take that back or I'll box your dern ears."

Jasper was appalled at the challenge. His feet were cold and he knew he couldn't cut much of a figure in a fight with Dish. His hands were cold too-they were usually cold-and the thought of having to strike someone with a hard head with one of them was not pleasant.

"Well, I meant she was in her younger days," Jasper said. "I don't know what she does for a living now."

Dish stalked off in a cold silent fury. He had resented many of the men throughout the whole trip because of their casual talk about Lorie and saw no reason for elaborate goodbyes. Po Campo hung him with so many provisions that he could scarcely mount.

Dish thought them unnecessary. "I got a rifle," he reminded Po. "There's plenty of game."

"You may not want to hunt in the blizzards," Po Campo said.

Before Dish left, Call told him to take an extra horse. Dish had mainly ridden Sugar all the way north and planned to ride him all the way back, but Call insisted that he take a little buckskin for insurance.

"A horse can always go lame," he said.

All the men were standing around, disturbed that Dish was leaving. Newt felt like crying. Leavings and dyings felt a lot alike.

Dish, too, at the last moment, felt a powerful ache inside him at the thought of leaving the bunch. Though most of the hands were disgraceful, rude and incompetent, they were still his compañeros . He liked young Newt and enjoyed teasing Jasper. He even had a sneaking fondness for Lippy, who had appointed himself cook's helper and seldom got far from the big fireplace.

But Dish had gone too far to stop. He had no fear at all of the dangers. He had to go see Lorena, and that was that. He mounted and took the lead rope of the little buckskin.

Pea Eye, who had been off near the lots trying to loosen his bowels-the main effect on Montana had been to constipate him-missed the preparations for leave-taking. He had been in a sorrowful mood ever since the report had come back on Gus, and the sight of Dish ready to ride off, upset him all over again.

"Well, I swear, Dish," he said. Tears welled in his eyes and he could say no more. Several of the men were disturbed by the sight, fearing that they might behave no better. Dish shook hands quickly all around.

"So long, boys," he said. "Look for me south of the Brazos if you ever get home." Then he touched Sugar with his spurs and was soon only a black speck on the snow.

Call had debated giving him the letters Gus had written to the women, but thought better of it. If Dish was lost, and probably he would be, the letters would be lost too, and they were Gus's last words. Better to keep them and deliver them himself-though the thought didn't cheer him.

Sitting in his tent that night, he pondered the change in himself. He had let the young man override his warning and leave. He could have ordered him to stay and put a little more of himself into the order, as he often had at times when men were unruly. Dish had been determined, but not determined enough to buck a forceful command. As Captain he had given such commands many times and never had one failed to be obeyed.

But in this case he lacked the interest. When it came time to summon the force, he hadn't. He admired Dish Boggett, who indeed had held a true point for three thousand miles; he had also often proved himself the best man to break a stampede. But Call had let him go, and didn't really care. He knew that he wouldn't care if they all went, excepting Pea and the boy. He had no impulse to lead the men another step.