Larry McMurtry - Comanche Moon

"Why, in heaven I expect, sir," Captain King said. "Herman preached his last sermon about five years ago. He thought he had a nice crowd of vaqueros but in fact it was Ahumado and some of his men who stopped to listen.

As soon as Herman said "Amen"' they shot him dead and took everything he had." Captain King fell silent for a moment, and so did the rangers. Mention of the Black Vaquero reminded them of their dangerous mission.

"But they still call it Lonesome Dove--the name stuck," Call said.

"Yes sir, that's true," Captain King said. "The preacher's gone, but the name stuck. It's curious, ain't it, what sticks and what don't?

"I better get after those carpenters," he went on. "I need to get a roof on this saloon.

There's a fine crossing of the river, there--I can do some business in this town, once it gets built.

We need that roof--otherwise it will shower one of these days, and if Xavier ain't quick it will get his tablecloth wet." Augustus looked at the small man in the black coat, sitting stiffly with the bottle of whiskey, at the one table.

"What's he need a tablecloth for?" he asked. "Why worry about a tablecloth if you ain't even got walls or a roof?" "He's French, sir," Captain King said.

"They order things differently in France." Without further explanation he turned his horse and rode off.

"I wish he could have waited until we talked to him about the cattle," Call said, disappointed.

"I don't," Augustus said.

"Why not?" Call asked. "We've been at this two weeks and we don't have a single cow.

We need to get some and go." "ally need to, Woodrow," Gus said. "I don't. All I need is to see if that fellow with the tablecloth will sell this thirsty bunch some whiskey." Call was annoyed with Captain King for leaving before they could discuss the business at hand, and annoyed, as well, with Gus McCrae, for being so quick to seize every opportunity to loaf.

All the rangers dismounted and the older men headed for the roofless bar.

On impulse, Call loped after Captain King, thinking perhaps they could negotiate for the cattle while looking for the carpenters--it might speed things up a little.

Lee Hitch and Stove Jones began to feel anxious when they saw Call leaving.

"Now Woodrow's leaving ... what'll we do, Gus?" Lee asked.

"I'd like to get drunk, myself ... I suppose you can do as you like, Lee," Gus said.

It occurred to Lee that there weren't many of them.

What if the pistoleros who finished the preacher came back and went for them? With Call gone and Gus drunk, they might all be massacred.

"Yes, but then what?" he asked.

"Why, then, nothing, Lee," Gus said. "I guess we can all sit around and watch that French pig eat snakes."

"Inish Scull's just a Yankee adventurer," Richard King said directly, when Call overtook him. "He went up against Ahumado once with a strong force and he lost.

What the hell made him go back alone?" "I can't say, Captain," Call admitted. "We were on our way home and he just peeled off, with the tracker--the next thing we heard he was captured." "Speaking of peeling, what do you think of Madame Inez?" Captain King asked. "I hear she peels the pants off the lads quicker than I could core an apple." Call had managed to depart Austin without having accepted Madame Scull's invitation to tea.

He knew what Maggie thought about her, but what Madame Scull did was none of his business.

He had no intention of gossiping about her with Captain Richard King.

"I scarcely know her," Call said. "I believe the Governor introduced us once. I suppose she's anxious to have her husband back." "Possibly," Captain King said, eyeing Call closely. "Possibly not. As long as she has lads to peel she might not care. You're a circumspect man, ain't you, Captain?" Call was not familiar with the ^w.

"Means you don't gossip about your superiors, Captain--t's a rare trait," Captain King said. "I wish you'd quit the rangers and work for me. I need a circumspect man with ability, and I believe you have ability to go with your circumspection." Call was surprised by the statement. He knew little about Captain King just that he owned a vast stretch of land, south along the coast. The two of them had met scarcely an hour ago. Why would the man try to hire him on such short acquaintance?

Captain King, though, did not seem to expect a reply, much less an acceptance. The trail narrowed, as it entered the thick mesquite. The two of them had been riding side by side, but that soon ceased to be possible. Call fell in behind the Captain, who kept a brisk pace, ducking under the larger limbs and brushing aside the smaller. Call, less experienced in brush, twice had his hat knocked off. He had to dismount to retrieve it and in the process fell some ways behind Captain King. Fortunately the trail was well worn. He pressed on, as fast as he could, but, despite his best efforts, could not draw in sight of the Captain, or hear him, either. He was beginning to feel anxious about it--perh the trail had forked and he had missed the fork. Then he heard shouts from his left. Suddenly a large form came crashing at him, through the brush.

His horse reared and threw him against the base of a mesquite tree just as Solomon, Captain King's great brown bull, passed in front of them with a snort. Call just managed to hang on to his rein and stop his horse from bolting up the trail. As he fell a thorn had caught his shirt and ripped it almost off him, leaving a cut down one side. The cut didn't worry him but it was a nuisance about the shirt because he only had one other with him. The shirt was so badly torn he didn't think it could be mended, even though Deets was adept with needle and thread.

The great bull had passed on, its head up, its testicles swinging. The trees over the trail were so low that Call didn't immediately remount. He walked, leading his horse. Then he heard a sound and turned in time to see the old vaquero Captain King had put in charge of the bull slipping through the brush, in close pursuit of the great animal.

It was all puzzling to him: why would anyone try to raise cattle in a place where you could scarcely see twenty feet? Even if you owned ten thousand cattle, what good would it do if you couldn't find them? He wondered why Texas had bothered taking such brushy country back from Mexico. In his years of rangering he had become competent, or at least adequate, in several environments. He could ranger on the plains, or in the hills, or even in the desert; but now he had been thrust into yet another environment, one he was not competent in at all.

Captain King could move through the brush, the vaqueros could move through it, Solomon, the great bull, could move through it, but so far all he had done was get lost and ruin his shirt. He would have done better to have stayed with Gus and got drunk.

Just as Call was beginning to wonder if he should try to retrace his steps and at least get back to Lonesome Dove, he heard voices ahead of him. He went toward the voices and soon came into a sizable clearing. Captain King was there, talking to four black men who were sitting on the thick lower limb of a big live oak, their feet dangling.

"Why, there you are, Captain, what happened to your shirt?" Captain King asked.

"Thorns," Call said. "Are these the lost carpenters?" "Yes, Solomon kindly treed them for me," Captain King said. "They're not eager to come down while Solomon's in the vicinity. They don't think the treeing was kindly meant." "I don't blame them," Call said. "He nearly treed me." "Nonsense, that bull is gentle as a kitten most of the time," Captain King said. "I expect it was those Mexican heifers that stirred him up.

Anyway, Juan is taking him home. It's unfortunate about your shirt, Captain." The black men did not seem at all inclined to leave their limb. While they watched, Solomon trotted quickly through the clearing, with the old vaquero, Juan, right behind him. The bull did not look their way.