Larry McMurtry - Lonesome Dove

"Dern, it's hot," he said, when she stopped for a minute to look at his hand. "I wonder where the boys are camped tonight. We might go over and get up a game of cards."

"You'd lose," she said. "You're too drunk to shuffle."

There was a flash of anger in Jake's eyes. He didn't like being criticized. But he made no retort.

"I'm going to have a wash," Lorena said.

"Don't drown," he said. "Be a pity if you was to drown on your way to San Francisco."

It was clear he was angry-he hated to be denied, or to see her take the lead over him in anything. Lorena met his anger with silence. She knew he couldn't stay mad very long.

The river was green and the water cold underneath the surface. She waded in and stood chest-deep, letting the water wash away the layers of dust and sweat. As she was wading out, feeling clean and light, she got a scare: a big snapping turtle sat on the bank right where she had entered the river. It was big as a tub and so ugly Lorena didn't want to get near it. She waded upstream, and just as she got out heard a shot-Jake was shooting his pistol at the turtle. He walked down to the water, probably just because he liked to see her naked.

"You are a sight," he said, grinning. Then he shot at the turtle again and missed. He shot four times, all the bullets plopping into the mud. The turtle, unharmed, slid off into the water.

"I was never no shot with my left hand," Jake said.

Lorena sat down on a grassy place in the sun and let the water drip off her legs. As soon as she sat down Jake came over and began to rub her back. He had a feverish look in his eye.

"I don't know where I got such a fancy for you," he said. "You are a sight to see."

He stretched out beside her and pulled her back. It was odd to look up beyond his head and see the white sky above them instead of the cracked boards in the ceiling above her head in the Dry Bean. More than usual, it made her feel not there-far from Jake and what he was doing. Crowded up in a room, it was difficult for her to keep herself-on the grass, with the sky far above, it was easy.

But it was not easy for Jake to finish-he was sicker than she had suspected. His legs were trembling and his body strained at hers. She looked in his face and saw he was frightened-he groaned, trying to grip her shoulder with his sore hand. Then, despite himself, he slipped from her; he tried to push back in, but kept slipping away. Finally he gave up and collapsed on her, so tired that he seemed to pass out.

When he sat up, she eased out from under him. He looked around with no recognition. She dressed and helped him dress, then got him propped against a big shade tree. She made a little fire, thinking some coffee might help him. While she was getting the pot out of the pack she heard a splashing and looked up to see a black man ride his horse into the river from the other side. Soon the horse was swimming, but the black man didn't seem frightened. The horse waded out, dripping, and the black man dismounted and let it shake itself.

"How do, miss," the black man said. Jake had fallen into a drowse and didn't even know the man was there.

"Mister Jake taking a nap?" he asked.

"He's sick," Lorena said.

The man walked over and squatted by Jake a moment, then gently lifted his hand. Jake woke up.

"Why, it's old Deets," he said. "We're all right now, Lorie. Deets will see us through."

"I been looking for a good place to cross the herd," Deets said. "Captain made me the scout."

"Well, he's right," Jake said. "We'd all have been lost twenty years ago if it hadn't been for you."

"You full of fever," Deets said. "Let me get that sticker out of your hand."

"I thought I got it all the other day," Jake said. "I'd as soon have you cut my hand off as dig around in there."

"Oh, no," Deets said. "You got to keep your hand. Might need you to shoot a bandit if one gets after me."

He went back and rummaged in his saddlebag, bringing out a large needle.

"I got to keep a needle," he said to Lorena. "Got to sew my pants from time to time."

Then, after heating the needle and letting it cool, he carefully probed the swelling at the base of Jake's thumb. Jake yelped when he began, and then yelped again a little later, but he didn't resist.

"Goddamn the dern thorns," he said weakly.

Then, with a wide grin, Deets held up the needle. The tiny yellow tip of the thorn was on it. "Now you be cuttin' the cards agin," he said.

Jake looked relieved, though still flushed with fever.

"I'll play you right now, Deets," he said. "You're the only one in the whole dern outfit with any money."

The black man just grinned and returned the needle to the little packet in his saddlebag. Then he accepted the cup of coffee which Lorie offered.

"Miss, you oughta get him on across the river," he said, when he handed back the coffee cup.

"Why?" Lorena asked. "We done made camp. He'll want to rest."

"Rest on the other side," Deets said. "Gonna come a storm tonight. The river be up tomorrow."

It seemed hard to believe. There was not a cloud in the sky. But the man had spoken in a tone that indicated he knew what he was talking about.

The girl looked sad, Deets thought. He glanced at the sun, which was dropping.

"I can help," he said. "I'll get you settled." The black man had them packed in no time, tying their bedrolls high so as to keep them out of the river.

"Dern, we didn't use this camp much," Jake said, when he realized they were moving. But when Deets mentioned the storm, he simply mounted and rode into the river. He was soon across.

It was a good thing Deets had offered to help. Lorena's mare balked and wouldn't take the water. She would go in chest-deep and then whirl and climb back up the bank, showing the whites of her eyes and trying to run. Despite herself, Lorena felt her fear rising. Once, already, the mane had nearly fallen. She might really fall, tnapping Lorena beneath the green water. She tried to control her fear-she would have to get across many rivers if she was to get to San Francisco-but the mare kept flouncing and trying to turn and Lorena couldn't help being afraid. She could see Jake on the other bank. He didn't look very concerned.

The third time the mare turned, the black man was suddenly beside her. "Let me have her," he said.

When he took the reins Lorena felt a deeper fright than she had ever known. She gripped the horse's mane so tightly the honsehairs cut into her hands. Then she shut her eyes-she couldn't bear to see the water coming over her. The mare took a leap, and there was a different feeling. They were swimming. She heard the black man's voice talking soothingly to the mare. The water lapped at her waist, but it came no higher; after a moment she opened her eyes. They were nearly across the river. The black man was looking back watchfully, lifting her reins a bit so as to keep the horse's head out of the water. Then there was the suck of the water against her legs as they started to climb out of the river. With a smile, the black man handed her back her wet reins. She was gripping the mane so tightly it took an act of will to turn her hands loose.

"Why, she's a fine swimmer," Deets said. "You be fine on this horse, Miss."

Lorena had clenched her teeth so tightly she couldn't even speak to thank the man, though she felt a flush of gratitude. Had it not been for him she felt sure she would have drowned. Jake by this time had untied his bedroll and thrown it down under a big mesquite. It had been nothing to him, her having to cross the river. Though the fright had begun to relax its grip, Lorena still didn't feel that she had control of her limbs so that she could simply step off the horse and walk as she had always walked. She felt angry at Jake for taking it all so lightly.

Deets smiled at Lorena tolerantly and turned his own horse back toward the river.