Streets Of Laredo

Later, though, Call realized that he had no need to mount a horse, and nowhere to go on one, if he did mount it. Teresa was telling him one of her spider stories, when the realization struck him.

Sometimes, for a minute or two, Teresa would draw Call into one of her stories. He would begin to be interested in the spider or the lizard or the rabbit Teresa was talking about. It was only a brief relief from thinking about his failure, but even a brief relief was welcome. He lived, or at least he breathed; yet he had no idea what his life would be. Listening to Teresa's stories was better than thinking about the disgrace of his failed attempt to catch Joey Garza, or about the two pointless deaths, or about the indignity of the future. Pea Eye had said he could come and live on the farm, with himself and Lorena and their children.

Call didn't want it. Yet, he had to live somewhere.

"I doubt I could be much help," he said, when Pea Eye made the offer.

Pea Eye doubted it too, but he didn't voice his doubts.

"You don't have to be, Captain--not for a while," Pea Eye told him.

Famous Shoes stayed in Ojinaga for a week.

He wanted the great eye, which was still tied to Joey Garza's saddle. The saddle was in a small shed behind Maria's house. Billy Williams kept an eye on the shed, for he was afraid that people would try to steal anything they could find that had belonged to Joey. Joey was a famous bandit; people would be looking for souvenirs.

Famous Shoes wanted the great eye badly.

He knew that such an instrument, which allowed one to study the plains on the moon, must be very valuable. Yet he had done considerable tracking for the white men, and had only been paid the five dollars that Pea Eye gave him. That came under a different account, in Famous Shoes' reckoning. Pea Eye had given him the five dollars to show him where the big shotgun lay. The wages they owed him for tracking had not been paid.

Captain Call was sick; his mind was not on the debt. No one's mind was on the debt except his own. Billy Williams was grieving for Maria, and he drank too much whiskey. Olin Roy had left. Billy Williams's eyesight was failing. Probably he would want to keep the great eye for himself, if it was called to his attention.

The old Indian waited several days, trying to decide who he should approach about the great eye.

He was tempted to steal it, but white men sometimes became crazy when things they weren't using were stolen from them. They might follow him and shoot him. The saddle had belonged to Joey, Maria's son, and both of them were dead. The great eye belonged to no one, as far as Famous Shoes could see. Taking it would not be stealing; still, he did not want to do anything that would make the white men crazy.

Captain Call did not want to talk to anyone except the little blind girl. He had never liked Famous Shoes anyway, and would find reasons to deny him the great eye if he was asked.

He would say it was worth too much, or that Famous Shoes didn't have that much wages coming.

One day, Famous Shoes decided to approach Pea Eye, who was outside mending a stirrup.

"I want to go to the Madre and visit the eagles," Famous Shoes told him. "If you don't want to pay me my wages in money, I will take the great eye instead." "The great what?" Pea Eye asked.

"The great eye that Joey used," Famous Shoes replied. "It is tied to his saddle." "Oh, that old spyglass," Pea Eye said.

"Nobody's using it--I sure don't want to drag that thing around. I guess you can just have it, if that's what you want." Famous Shoes could scarcely believe his good fortune. Billy Williams was at the cantina.

Lorena had gone to the river with Rafael and Teresa to wash clothes. He went at once to the little shed and took the great eye.

Captain Call had his eyes shut, and he breathed hard, like a sick calf. White men had the habit of staying alive too long, in Famous Shoes' opinion. Captain Call ought to send his spirit on, now. It was time for him to visit the other place. He might find his leg and his arm, if he went there.

Without delay Famous Shoes left for the Madre, carrying the great eye. Now he would be able to see as well as the eagles; now he could track them through the sky.

Pea Eye was through with his crutch before the Captain attempted to use his for the first time.

Call was so sad that it was hard to be around him.

Lorena finally cleaned out the little room that had been Maria's, and made him a bed in there. Too much had to be done, in the other room. She had to cook and clean, tend to the two children, feed Billy and Pea and the Captain--when the Captain would eat.

Having to walk around the silent, suffering old man every time she needed to do something was begi

Once she installed him in Maria's bedroom, things were better. Teresa became his sole attendant: she didn't like for anyone but herself to go into Call's room, and Call didn't welcome others, either. Pea Eye would come in once in a while and attempt to talk to him, but Call scarcely responded. The events of the past weeks were twisted in his mind, like a rope that had not been coiled properly. He wanted to remember things clearly, to backtrack through the pursuit of Joey Garza until he located the moment of failure. But the effort was discouraging; he had followed up the available clues and deployed his resources in what seemed like an intelligent way. Perhaps he should not have let himself be distracted by Mox Mox. If he hadn't, though, Jasper Fant's two children would have died, and others as well, very likely. By most reckonings, Mox Mox was worse than Joey Garza had been.

What it came down to, Call concluded, was this: on the morning when he was injured, his eyesight had failed him. He hadn't once suspected that the buckskin horse was hobbled. He ought to have been alert to that possibility, but all he had seen were two horses grazing. His eyes had simply failed him. Horses moved differently, when they were hobbled. Earlier in his life, his eyes would have detected the difference. As it was, they hadn't.

He should have had spectacles, but it had never occurred to him that his vision had fallen off so. He had always trusted his senses and had not expected any of them to fail him. To reflect that a cheap pair of spectacles might have prevented the loss of his arm and his leg was bitter knowledge, and he could not stop himself from brooding about it. His eyes had cost him himself: that was how he came to view it.