Lonesome Dove

The Hacienda Flores was the largest ranch in Coahuila. It was there when the Rio Grande was just a river, not a boundary; the vaqueros would cross that river as casually as they crossed any stream. Millions of acres that had once been part of the Hacienda were now part of Texas, but vaqueros still crossed the river and brought back cattle and horses. They were, in their view, merely bringing back their own. The ranch headquarters was only thirty miles away and it was there that they kept the main part of a horse herd several hundred strong, with many of the horses wearing Texas brands.

"If I didn't know better I'd say you were trying to scare up a war," Augustus said. "Old Pedro Flores ain't go

"Everything's got its risks," Call said.

"Yeah, and you're as fond of risk as Jake is of women," Augustus said. "Suppose we get away with the horses. What then?"

"Sell Wilbarger forty and keep the rest," Call said. "Pick up some cattle and head north."

"Head north who with?" Augustus asked. "We don't exactly add up to a cattle crew."

"We can hire cowboys," Call said. "There's plenty of young cowhands around here."

Augustus sighed again and stood up. It looked like the easy life was over for a while. Call had idled too long, and now he was ready to make up for it by working six times as hard as a human should work.

On the other hand it would be satisfying to run off some of Pedro's horses. Pedro was an old rival, and rivalry still had its interest.

"Jake would have done better to let them hang him," he said. "You know how he suffers when he has to work."

"Where are you going?" Call asked, when Augustus started to walk off.

"Why, down to tell Jake the news," Augustus said. "He might want to oil his gun."

"I guess we'll take the boy," Call said. He had been thinking about it. If they were going to get a hundred horses they would need every hand.

"Why, good," Augustus said. "I'll tell Newt. He'll probably be so pleased he'll fall off the fence."

But Newt wasn't sitting on the fence when he heard the news. He was standing in the sandy bottom of Hat Creek, listening to Dish Boggett vomit. Dish was upstream a little ways, acting very sick. He had come walking up from the saloon with Jake Spoon and Mr. Gus, not walking too straight but on his feet. Then he had stumbled over to the edge of the creek and started vomiting. Now he was down on his hands and knees, still vomiting. The sounds coming out of him reminded Newt of the sucking sound a cow makes pulling her foot out of a muddy bog.

Newt had been sick at his stomach a few times, but never that sick, and he was worried. Dish sounded like he was going to die. Newt would have not have thought anybody could get so sick in such a short space of time. Mr. Jake and Mr. Gus didn't seem worried, though. They stood on the banks of the creek, chatting amiably, while Dish hung his head and made the sound like the bogged cow.

With Dish in such trouble, Newt could hardly enjoy the good news Mr. Gus had told him-though it was news he had waited for for years. Instead of floating with happiness, he was too worried about Dish to feel much of anything else.

"Want me to go get Bolivar?" he asked. Bolivar was the house doctor.

Mr. Gus shook his head. "Bolivar can't get a man over being drunk," he said. "Call should have kept you boys working. If Dish had stayed down in that well he never would have been tempted."

"A fish couldn't drink no faster than that boy drank," Jake said. "If fishes drink."

"They don't drink what he drunk," Augustus said. He knew perfectly well that Dish had been love-smitten, and that it had been his undoing.

"I hope the Captain don't see him," Newt said. The Captain was intolerant of drinking unless it was done at night and in moderation.

No sooner had he said it than they saw the Captain come out of the house and walk toward them. Dish was still on his hands and knees. About that time Bolivar began to beat the di

Jake looked at Augustus. "Call's apt to fire him," he said. "Ain't there any excuses we can make for him?"

"Dish Boggett is a top hand," Augustus said. "He can make his own excuses.

Call walked up and looked at the stricken cowboy, whose stomach was still heaving. "What happened to him?" he asked, frowning.

"I didn't see it," Augustus said. "I think he may have swallowed a hunk of barbed wire."

Dish meanwhile heard a new voice above him and turned his head enough to see that the Captain had joined the group of spectators. It was an eventuality he had been dreading, even in his sickness. He had no memory of what had happened in the Dry Bean, except that he had sung a lot of songs, but even in the depths of his drunke

Call stepped close enough to the young cowboy to smell whiskey and realized he was only sick drunk. It was the last thing he had expected, and his immediate impulse was to fire the boy on the spot and send him back to Shanghai Pierce, who was said to be tolerant of the bottle. But before he opened his mouth to do it he happened to note that Gus and Jake were gri

Dish meanwhile had gained the top of the bank and made it to his feet. When he stood up, his head cleared for a moment and he felt a wild optimism-maybe he was over being drunk. A second later his hopes were shattered. He started to walk off toward the lots to saddle his horse, stubbed his toe on a mesquite root that poked up through the dirt and fell flat on his face.

Newt's hopes had risen too, when Dish stood up, and he was horribly embarrassed when his friend sprawled in the dirt. It was a mystery to him how Dish could get so drunk in such a short space of time, and why he would do it, with such an important night ahead. Bolivar was still banging the bell with the crowbar, making it that much more difficult to think.

Jake Spoon was unaccustomed to Bolivar's habits and grimaced unhappily as the banging continued.