Larry McMurtry - Comanche Moon

Long Bill Coleman, an experienced man, had told him there were procedures for every eventuality, in rangering.

Pea Eye meant to do all he could to avoid a scalping, but in the event that one occurred he wanted to know what steps he should take--or not take.

"Just sit there calmly and bite a stick," Gus told him, doing his best to keep a straight face. "Somebody will come and sew up your head as soon as there's a lull in the killing." "Why'd you tell him that?" Call asked later, when he and Augustus were cleaning their weapons. "Of course he'll yowl if he gets scalped." "No he won't, because I instructed him not to," Augustus said. "But if I get scalped you'll hear some fine yowling, I bet." On the trek north Pea Eye's job was to inspect the horses' feet every night, to see that no horses had picked up thorns or small rocks that might cause lameness. In the event of a chase a lame horse would put its rider in serious jeopardy; Pea Eye inspected every hoof at night and made sure that the horses were well secured.

Then the sleet came and he had a hard time looking close. In the worst of the storm he could barely see his horse; at night he had to deal with the horses' feet mostly by feel. His hands got so cold when he worked that he was afraid he might have missed something in one hoof or another; but none of the horses went lame.

Deets, the black man, seeing Pea Eye try to inspect the hooves in the dark, brought him a light and stayed with him while he went down the line of horses, picking up their hooves one by one. It was a kind thing, which Pea Eye never forgot. Most of the men stayed as close to the fire as they could get, but Deets left the warmth and came to help him make sure that the horses' feet were sound.

On the fourth day of cold, Pea Eye began to wish Mr. Call had just left him in the cornfield. Proud as he was to be a ranger, he didn't know if he could survive the cold. He got so cold at night and in the bitter mornings that he even forgot to be afraid of scalping Indians, or even death. All he could think of was how nice it would be to be in a cabin with a big fireplace and a roaring fire. It was so cold his teeth ached--he began to try to sneak food into his mouth in small quick bites, so the cold wouldn't get in and freeze his teeth worse than they already were.

Augustus McCrae, who seemed able to ignore the cold, noticed Pea sneaking in the tiny bites and decided a little more joshing wouldn't hurt.

"You ought to duck your chin down into your shirt, if you're going to try and eat in this breeze," he said. "If you ain't careful your tongue will freeze and snap off like you'd snap a stick." "Snap off?" Pea Eye asked, horrified. "How could it snap off?" "Why, from talking," Gus said, with a grin.

"All you have to do is ask for a cup of coffee and your tongue's liable to fall right into the cup." Later Pea Eye told Deets what Mr.

McCrae had said and they debated the matter quietly. Pea was so cautious about opening his mouth that he could barely make himself heard.

"Your tongue's inside your head," Deets pointed out. "It's got protection. Ain't like your finger. Now a finger might snap off, I expect, or a toe." Pea Eye's fingers were so cold he almost wished they would snap off, to relieve the pain, but they didn't snap off. He had been blowing on his fingers, blowing and blowing, hoping to get a little warmth into them, when the Indians attacked and killed Ranger Watson. Pea Eye had been about to step right past the man, in order to take cover behind some saddles, when he heard Jimmy Watson give a small grunt--j a small quick grunt, and in that instant his life departed.

If Pea Eye had not moved just when he did, making for the saddles, the bullet might have hit him --x passed just behind his leg and went only another yard or more before striking Jim Watson dead.

No one in the troop was as glad to see the sun shine, the morning they finally headed south, as Pea Eye Parker.

"The dern old sun, it's finally come out again," he said, to Long Bill Coleman.

To Pea Eye's surprise, he almost cried, so happy was he to see the familiar sun. He had always despised cloudy weather, but he had never despised it as much as he had during the recent days of cold.

Fortunately Long Bill Coleman took no interest in Pea Eye's remark and didn't see him dash away a tear. Long Bill was attempting to shave, using a bowl of water so cold that it had a fine skim of ice on it; he considered the whole trip an intolerable waste of time--in that it was no different from most expeditions against the Comanches, only, in this instance, colder.

"Me, I'll take Mexico over these dern windy plains," he told Augustus McCrae, when the troop was on the move South.

"Me too, Billy--there's plenty of whores in Mexico, and pretty ones, too," Gus remarked.

"Now, Gus, I'm married, don't be reminding me of the temptations of the flesh," Long Bill admonished. "I got enough flesh right there at home--there's no shortage of flesh on Pearl." Augustus thought the comment dull, if not foolish.

"I know you've got a fat wife, Billy," he said. "What's your point about Mexico? I thought that was what we were talking about." "Why, the point is, it's convenient," Long Bill said. "In Mexico there's Mexicans." The remark seemed even duller to Augustus than the one before it. Since marriage to Pearl, Long Bill had lost much of his liveliness, in Gus's opinion. He had grown dull, cautious, and even pious. His wife, Pearl, was a large woman of little attraction, a bully and a nag. Had he himself been married to Pearl he would have endeavoured to spend as much time as possible in the nearest bordello.

"In Mexico there's usually someone to ask where the bandits are," Long Bill went on. "And there's trees to hang them from, once we corner them. Out here on the plains there's no one to ask directions from, and if we do see an Indian he's apt to be way down in the canyon, where you'd have to scramble to get at him." Augustus didn't answer. The fact was, he missed Clara. No amount of easily located bandits, or hanging trees, made up for that one fact. A good two-week jaunt on the prairies always lifted his spirits, but then, inevitably, there'd come a night by the campfire or a groggy morning when he'd remember his old, sweet love and wonder if he'd been foolish to let his long courtship lapse, just for the sake of adventure. Despite her standoffish ways, Augustus felt, most of the time, that there was little likelihood that Clara would actually marry anyone but himself; at other times, though, the demon of doubt seized him and he was not so sure.

Pea Eye found Mr. McCrae puzzling-- Mr. Call he was more comfortable with, because Mr.

Call only spoke to him of practical matters. Mr. McCrae sounded convincing, when he talked, but a good deal of what he said was meant in jest, like the business about his tongue snapping off.

The hardest part of Pea Eye's job, as the company farrier, was to see that the Captain's big horse, Hector, did not get anything wrong with his feet. Pea Eye had never seen an elephant, but he doubted that even an elephant had feet as heavy and hard to work with as Hector.

The Captain had to have special horseshoes forged, to fit the big horse's feet. When Pea Eye did manage to lift one of Hector's hooves the big horse would immediately let his weight sag onto Pea Eye--he could just support the weight, but it left him no strength with which to clean out the hoof. Several times Deets, seeing his plight, had come over and helped him support the big horse long enough that his feet could be properly cleaned.

"Much obliged," Pea Eye always said, when Deets helped him.

"Welcome, sir," Deets would reply.

It unnerved Pea Eye to be addressed as "sir," though he knew that was how black people normally addressed white people. He didn't know if it would be correct just to ask Deets to call him by his name; he intended to discuss the point with Mr. Call when the time was right.