Larry McMurtry - Lonesome Dove

"You better leave," she said. "I don't want Jake to catch you up here. He might shoot you."

"No!" Xavier exclaimed. "I will shoot him ! I have a shotgun. I will shoot him when he comes back if you don't let me in."

Lorena hardly knew what to think. It was crazy behavior. Xavier didn't seem to want to budge from the stairs. He did own a shotgun. It was not likely Jake would let someone as pitiful as Xavier shoot him, but then if he shot Xavier, that would be almost as bad. He already had his Arkansas trouble from shooting someone. They might not get to leave if there was a shooting, and Xavier looked desperate enough to do anything.

Then Xavier began to pull money out of his pocket. It was hard to say how much he held out to her, but it was a good deal more than fifty dollars. It might even be a hundred dollars. The sight of it made her feel tired. No matter what plans she made or how she tried to live, some man would always be looking at her and holding out money. Without giving it much thought, Mosby had started something that nothing seemed to stop. She thought Jake had stopped it, but he hadn't. His talk about killing men was just talk. If he had cared that much he would have shot Gus, friend or no friend. It was hard to believe he would even shoot Xavier-probably he would just give her another slap and forget about it.

"Please," Xavier said. "Please. I need you."

At least it might calm him down, she thought, opening the door. Also, he was usually quick as a rabbit when he came to her.

"I ain't messin' this bed," she said. "It's the last sheet."

Xavier didn't care. He put the money on her little chest of drawers and turned to her. Lorie shut the door and leaned against it, lifting her shift. With a grateful look Xavier dropped his pants. Soon his legs were trembling so she was afraid he would collapse before he was done. But he didn't. When he finished he put his head against her bosom for a moment, wetting her breasts with his tears even as she felt his drip on her thigh.

Then he stepped back and pulled up his pants.

"Goodbye," he said.

"Well, I ain't left yet," she said. "We're not going till afternoon."

Xavier looked at her once more, and left. His look startled her. It was like the look in her Pa's eyes, when he died in Baton Rouge. She watched him go down the stairs. He went slowly, as if feeling for each stair. He had scarcely been in her room two minutes, but her shift was wet with his tears. Men were all strange, but Xavier was stranger than many.

When he finally made it to the bottom she turned and hid the money. It was just one more secret she had from Jake.

LATE THAT AFTERNOON, as the boys were sitting around Bolivar's cook fire, getting their evening grub, Augustus looked up from his plate and saw Jake and Lorena ride into camp. They were riding two good horses and leading a pack horse. The most surprising thing was that Lorena was wearing pants. So far as he could remember, he had never seen a woman in pants, and he considered himself a man of experience. Call had his back turned and hadn't seen them, but some of the cowboys had. The sight of a woman in pants scared them so bad they didn't know where to put their eyes. Most of them began to concentrate heavily on the beans in their plates. Dish Boggett turned white as a sheet, got up without a word to anybody, got his night horse and started for the herd, which was strung out up the valley.

It was Dish's departure that got Call's attention. He looked around and saw the couple coming.

"We got you to thank for this," he said to Gus.

"I admit I was inspired," Augustus said. He knew his friend was in a silent fury, but he himself thought the visit might provide a little amusement. It had been in short supply lately. The only thing there had been to laugh at was Allen O'Brien getting pitched into a pile of prickly pears by a bronc. When he emerged he even had thorns in his beard.

But that was a normal hazard, the horses being unreliable and the prickly pear abundant.

A woman in pants was far more unusual. Jake rode right up to the cook fire, though Augustus could tell from his manner that he was nervous.

"Howdy, boys," he said. "Mind if we make a meal?"

"Course not, you're as welcome around here as money, Jake," Augustus said. "You and Lorie too."

Call watched the proceedings silently, unable to decide who he was more aggravated at, Gus or Jake. Surely the latter knew better than to bring a woman into a cow camp. It was difficult enough to keep men peaceful even if they didn't have a woman to argue about.

"Woodrow, you know Lorie, I reckon," Jake said, although he knew it wasn't true. Call's silence had always made him nervous.

"We've not met," Call said, touching his hat but not looking at the woman. He didn't want to get angry at Jake in front of all the hands, and all but Dish and the two Rainey boys were lounging around eating their evening meal. Or, at least, they had been lounging. Now they were sitting as stiffly as if they were in church. Some looked paralyzed. For a moment the only sound in the camp was the jingle of a bit as the woman's horse slung its head.

Augustus walked over to help Lorena dismount. The sight of the boys all sitting like statues made him want to laugh. The sudden appearance of a Comanche would not have affected them as much.

He recognized the brown mare Lorie rode as having belonged to Mary Pumphrey, the young widow.

"I would not have thought Mary would give up her mare," he said.

"Jake bought her," Lorena said, grateful that Gus had come over to offer her help. Jake had not so much as looked at her since they rode into camp. She had never seen Captain Call up close before, but she could tell Jake was mighty uneasy about him.

It depressed her a little that she was left to depend on Gus's courtesy from the very outset. He took her over to the cook fire and saw that she got a good helping of food, talking casually all the while, mainly about the qualities of the Pumphrey mare. Jake followed and got some grub but he was silent when he did it.

Still, it had felt good to ride out of Lonesome Dove. She had not seen Xavier again. The Dry Bean had been empty as they made their preparations. The pants had been Jake's idea. He had known a woman mule skinner in Montana who had worn pants.

While Jake had been fixing the pack horse Lippy had come out on the steps of the saloon and waved his lip at her one more time.

"I never tolt on you, Lorie," he said. He looked like he might cry too. You'll just have to cry, she thought. He took his bowler off and turned it around and around in his hand until it made her nervous.

"You'll have to pardon the grub," Augustus said. "Bol has learned to season but he forgot to learn to cook."

Bolivar was resting comfortably against a wagon wheel and ignored the sally. He was wavering in his mind whether to stay or go. He did not like travel-the thought of it made him unhappy. And yet, when he went home to Mexico he felt unhappy too, for his wife was disappointed in him and let him know it every day. He had never been sure what she wanted-after all, their children were beautiful-but whatever it was, he had not been able to give it to her. His daughters were his delight, but they would soon all marry and be gone, leaving him no protection from his wife. Probably he would shoot his wife if he went home. He had shot an irritating horse, right out from under himself. A man's patience sometimes simply snapped. He had shot the horse right between the ears and then found it difficult to get the saddle off, once the horse fell. Probably he would shoot his wife in the same way, if he went home. Many times he had been tempted to shoot one or another of the members of the Hat Creek outfit, but of course if he did that he would be immediately shot in return. Every day he thought he might go home, but he didn't. It was easier to stay and cut up a few snakes into the cook pot than to listen to his wife complain.