Larry McMurtry - Comanche Moon

"The Great Waterffwas he yelled. "We are going to the Great Water, and we are going now!" Six hundred braves rode out of the canyon behind him, the sun glinting on their lances. When sound came back to the camp it was the sound women make, talking to one another as they cooked and did chores. A few babies cried, a few dogs barked, the old men smoked. By the time the moon rose Buffalo Hump and his warriors were already miles to the south.

"Hector leaves a damn large track," Scull said to Famous Shoes, after they had been walking for four days. "If we had some form of torch I believe I could track him at night." "We don't have a torch," Famous Shoes pointed out. They were in country where there was little wood. When they made little fires to cook the game they killed, jackrabbits mostly, they had to use the branches of creosote bushes or chaparral.

"Hector will probably be slimmed down a little when I catch him," Scull said. "There's not much fodder out here." "They may have to eat him soon," Famous Shoes warned.

"I doubt that," Scull said. "I don't think Kicking Wolf stole him to eat. I expect he stole him mainly to embarrass me.

I'm for walking all night if you think we can stay with the track." Famous Shoes thought Scull was crazy. The man wanted to walk forever, without sleep. Kicking Wolf, the man they were following, was crazy too.

He was taking the horse straight to Mexico, which made no sense--Kicking Wolf's people did not live in Mexico. They lived in the other direction.

He himself was growing tired of being a scout for the whites. One crazy man was chasing another crazy man, with his help. Famous Shoes decided it must be the tobacco Scull chewed all day that made him able to walk so far. He did not want to sleep long at night, and grew restless when there were clouds over the moon, so Famous Shoes could not track. On those nights Scull sat by the fire and talked for hours. He said there were forests to the south so thick that little beasts called monkeys could live their whole lives in the trees, never touching the ground. Famous Shoes didn't believe the story--he had never seen trees that thick. He had begun to think of walking away some night, leaving Scull while he napped. After all, he had not yet got to visit his grandmother in her new home on the Arkansas.

He could understand Scull's anger at Kicking Wolf for stealing his horse, but the decision to follow on foot was more evidence of Scull's insanity. Kicking Wolf travelled hard. They were not going to catch him on foot, not unless he got sick and had to stop for a few days.

The evidence of the tracks was plain. Kicking Wolf and Three Birds would soon be in Mexico. Though he and Scull were walking exceptionally fast, they only had two legs, whereas the horses they were following had four.

Famous Shoes told Scull as much, but Scull would not give up, not even when they reached the desolate country where the Pecos angled toward the Rio Grande. In that country the water was so bitter from the white soil that one's turds came out white--a very bad thing. White turds meant that they were in the wrong place, that was how Famous Shoes felt. He was thinking more about walking off, but Scull had quickly mastered tracking and might follow him and shoot him if he left. He did not want to get shot by Scull's big rifle. He had begun to hope they would run into some bandits or some Indians, anything that might distract Scull long enough that he could slip away. But even if there was a fight, escape would still be risky. Who knew what a crazy man such as Big Horse Scull might do?

When they were only a day away from the Rio Grande, Famous Shoes noticed a curious thing about the tracks they were following. He did not mention it at first, but he might as well have mentioned it because Scull was such a good tracker now that he noticed it too. Scull stopped and squatted down, so as to study the tracks better. When he spat tobacco juice he spat it carefully to the side, so as not to blur the message of the tracks.

"By God, he knows we're following him," Scull said. "He's sent Mr. Three Birds back, to spy on us--now Three Birds has marked us and gone back to report.

Am I right, Professor?" That was exactly correct, so correct that Famous Shoes did not feel the need to reply.

Three Birds had come back and spied on them.

"He marked us and he's gone," Scull said.

"I expect he's reported to his boss by now." "Kicking Wolf is not his boss," Famous Shoes corrected. "Three Birds travels where he pleases." Scull got up and walked around for a few minutes, thinking.

"I wonder if there's a big camp of Indians down there somewhere that he's taking my horse to," he said.

"No, there is no camp," Famous Shoes assured him. "Comanches won't camp where their shit is white." "I don't care for this country much myself," Scull said. "Let's get out of it." The next day, at a winter sunset, they came to the Rio Grande. Scull stopped for a minute, to look north toward a long curve of the river. The water was gold with the thin sunset. There was no sign of Hector or the two Indians, but to his surprise he saw an old man, walking slowly along the riverbank, going south.

A large dog walked beside him.

"Now there's somebody--who would it be, walking this river alone this time of year?" he asked.

When Famous Shoes saw the old man coming he gave a start; though he had never seen the old man before he knew who he was.

"He is the Old One Who Walks By The River," Famous Shoes said. "He lives in a cave where the river is born. The river is his child. Every year he walks with it down to its home in the Great Water. Then he goes back to his cave, where the river is born, high in the Sierra. His wolf walks with him and kills his food." "His wolf?" Scull said, looking more closely. "I took it for a dog." "He has been here forever," Famous Shoes said. "The Apaches believe that if you see him you will die." "Well, I've seen him and I ain't dead," Scull commented. "I just hope that wolf don't bite." "If I had known I would see the Old One I would not have come with you," Famous Shoes said.

"I need to see my grandmother, but now I don't know if I will be living long enough to find her." Scull had to admit that the sight of the lone figure coming along the river at dusk was a little eerie. Certainly it was not an ordinary thing.

They went on to the river and waited for the old man to come. When he appeared the wolf had vanished. The old man came slowly.

His white hair hung to his waist and he wore buckskin clothing.

"I think he has stopped speaking because he is so old," Famous Shoes said.

"I'll try him with a little Yankee English-- he might want to stop and sup with us," Scull said. Earlier in the day he had shot a small owl --his plan for dinner was to have owl soup.

"Hello, sir, this is a welcome surprise," Inish said, when the old man came to where they waited. "My name is Inish Scull-- I'm a Bostoner--and this is Famous Shoes, the great professor of tracking. If you'd care to join us in a meal, we're having owl soup." The old man fixed Scull with a lively blue eye.

"You've spit tobaccy juice up and down the front of yourself," the old man said, in a voice far from weak. "I'll have a chaw of tobaccy if you've any left after all your wasteful spitting." Scull reached in his pocket and pulled out his plug, by then so diminished that he simply handed it to the old man, who had spoken as matter-of-factly as if they had met on Boston Common.

"It's true I'm reckless with my spittles," Scull said. "You're welcome to this tobacco--how about the owl soup?" "I'll pass--c't digest owls," the old man said. He carried a long rifle, the stock of which he set against the ground; then he leaned comfortably on his own weapon.

"I fear it's a weak offering but we have nothing else," Scull admitted.