Comanche Moon (36 page)

"I don't want him going to heaven with his face so black," Pearl said suddenly. "They'll take him for a nigger." Maggie didn't answer. The undertaker had been killed in the raid--funerals since then had been hasty and plain.

Call and Gus caught their horses and rode on to the Governor's. Though the distance was not great, both felt too weak to walk that far.

"What are we going to say to the Governor, now that this has happened?" Augustus asked.

"He's the Governor, I guess he can do the talking." Call said, as they rode up the street.

When informed of the tragedy, Governor Pease shook his head and stared out the window for several minutes. A military man was with him when the two captains came in, a Major Nettleson of the U.S. Cavalry.

"That's three suicides since the raid," Governor Pease said. "Raids on that scale have a very poor effect on the nerves of the populace. Happens even in the army, don't it, Major?" "Why, yes, we sometimes have a suicide or two, after a violent scrap," the Major said.

He looked at the rangers impatiently, either because they were late or because they were interrupting his own interview with the Governor.

"Bill Coleman had been with us through it all, Governor," Call said. "We never expected to lose him that way." Governor Pease turned from the window and sighed. Call noticed that the Governor's old brown coat was stained; since the raid he had often been seen in an untidy state. He had grown careless with his tobacco juice, too.

Judging from the carpet, he missed his spittoon about as often as he hit it.

"It's one more murder we can charge to Buffalo Hump," the Governor said. "A people can only tolerate so much scalping and raping. They get nervous and start losing sleep. The lack of sound sleep soon breaks them down. The next thing you know they start killing themselves rather than worry about when the Comanches will show up again." Just then Inez Scull came striding into the room. Major Nettleson, who had been sitting, hefted himself up--he was a beefy man.

Madame Scull merely glanced at him, but her glance caused the Major to flush. Augustus, who was merely waiting dully for the interview to be over, noted the flush.

"Why, there you are, Johnny Nettleson," Inez said. "Why'd you leave so early? I rather prefer for my house guests to stay around for breakfast, though I suppose that's asking too much of a military man." "It's my fault, Inez," the Governor said quickly. "I wanted a ^w with the Major--since he's leaving, I thought we'd best meet early." "No, Johnny ain't leaving, not today," Madame Scull said. "I've planned a picnic and I won't allow anything to spoil it.

It's rare that I get a major to picnic with." Then she looked at Governor Pease defiantly. The Governor, surprised, stared back at her, while Major Nettleson, far too embarrassed to speak, stared solemnly at his own two feet.

Augustus suspected that it was stout Major Nettleson that Madame Scull was trotting with now; the picnic she was anxious not to have spoiled might not be of the conventional kind. But this suspicion only registered with him dully. His mind was on the night before, most of which, as usual, he had spent drinking with Long Bill Coleman. It was a close night, and the saloon an immoderately smelly place. During the raid a bartender had been stabbed and scalped in a rear corner of the barroom; the bartender had been murdered, and so had the janitor, which meant that the bloody corner had been only perfunctorily cleaned. On close nights the smells made pleasant drinking difficult, so difficult that Gus had left a little early, feeling that he needed a breath of river air.

"Come along, Billy, it's late," he said to Long Bill.

"Nope, I prefer to drink indoors, Gus," Long Bill replied. "I'm less tempted to seek whores when I drink inside." Augustus took the comment for a joke and went on out into the clean air, to nestle comfortably by the riverbank all night. But now the remark about whores, the last ^ws he would ever hear from Long Bill Coleman, came back to mind. Had Bill, so deeply attached to Pearl, really been seeking whores; or was it, as he had supposed, a joke?

He didn't know, but he did know that he hated being in the Governor's office, listening to Inez Scull banter with her new conquest, Major Nettleson. Long Bill's death was as much a shock as Clara's marriage. It left him indifferent to everything. Why was he there? What did he care about rangering now? He'd never stroll the streets of Austin again, either with the woman or the friend; at the thought, such a hopeless sadness took him that he turned and walked out the door, passing directly in front of the Governor, the Major, and Madame Scull as he went.

"I'll say, now where's McCrae going?" the Governor said in surprise. "The two of you have just got here. I haven't even had a moment to bring up the business at hand." "I expect he's sad about our pard--he'd ridden with the man for many years," Call said.

"Well, but he was your friend too, and you ain't walked out," Governor Pease said.

"No," Call said, though he wished the Governor would get down to business. He thought he knew how Gus felt, when he walked out.

The Governor seemed momentarily thrown off by Gus's departure--he bent right over the spittoon but still managed to miss it with a stream of tobacco juice. Madame Scull had relaxed, but Major Nettleson hadn't.

"Was there something in particular, Governor?" Call asked finally. "Long Bill will be needing a funeral and a burial soon. I'd like to arrange it nice, since he was our friend." "Of course, excuse me," Governor Pease said, coming back to himself. "Arrange it nice and arrange it soon. There's work waiting, for you and McCrae and whatever troop you can round up." "What's the work?" Call asked.

"Ahumado has Captain Scull," the Governor said. "He's offered to exchange him for a thousand cattle, delivered in Mexico.

I've consulted the legislature and they think we better comply, though we know it's a gamble." "The U.S. Army cannot be involved--not involved!" Major Nettleson said, suddenly and loudly. "I've made that plain to Governor Pease and I'll make it plain to you. I'm trying to train three regiments of cavalry to move against the Comanche and finish them. I've no men to spare for Mexico and even if I did have men, I wouldn't send them below the border--now that there is a border, more or less. Not a man of mine will set foot across the Rio Grande--not a man. I must firmly decline to be involved, though of course I'd be happy to see Captain Scull again if he's alive." Both the Governor and Call were nonplussed by this stream of talk. Madame Scull, however, was merely amused.

"Oh, shut up, Johnny, and stop telling lies," she said, with a flirtatious toss of her head.

"What lies? I'm merely pointing out that the U.S. Army can't put itself out every time a bandit demands a ransom." "No, the lie was that you'd be happy to see Inish again," Madame Scull said. "You weren't happy to see him when he was your commanding officer, I seem to recall." "Not happy ... I fail to understand .

really, Madame," Major Nettleson protested, turning cherry red from embarrassment.

"Inish always thought you were a fat-gutted fool," Mrs. Scull said. "He said as much many times.

The only man in the whole army Inish thought had any sense was Bob Lee, and Bob Lee's a little too stiff necked for my taste." Then she looked at Governor Pease, who was staring at her as if she was insane.

"Close your mouth, Ed, before a bug flies down your gullet," she said. "I'm taking Johnny off to our picnic now. I've managed to find virtues in him that Inish never suspected." As Madame Scull was about to leave she paused a moment and looked at Call.

"A thousand cattle is a good deal more than Inish is worth," she said. "I wouldn't give three cats for him myself, unless the cats were mangy. If you see that yellow gal of mine while you're looking for Inish, bring her back too. I have yet to find a match for that yellow gal. She had the Cuba touch." "I doubt we'll spot her, ma'am," Call said. "The Comanches went north and we're going south." "And you think life is that simple, do you, Captain?" Inez Scull said, with more than a little mockery in her tone. "You think it's just a matter of plain north or south, do you?" Call was perplexed. He could not clear his mind of the image of Long Bill Coleman, hanging dead by his own hand from a live oak limb. More than ten years of his life had been bound up with Long Bill Coleman--now he was dead. He found it hard to attend to the mocking woman in front of him--his mind wanted to drift backward down the long river of the past, to the beginning of his rangering days. He wished Madame Scull would just go away and not be teasing him with questions.

"I hope you'll come to tea with me before you leave, Captain," Madame Scull said. "I might be able to teach you that there's more to life than north and south." With that she turned on her heels and left.

"Can't interfere with Mexico, not the U.S.

Cavalry," Major Nettleson said. Then he left, putting on his military hat as he went through the door.

Governor Pease spat once more, inaccurately, at the brass spittoon.

"If I had a wife like that I'd run farther than Mexico," the Governor said, quietly.

His own wife had only raised her voice to him once in twenty years of marriage, and that was because the baby was about to knock the soup pot off the table.

Call didn't know what to say. He thought he had best stick to simple, practical considerations and not let himself be sidetracked by what Madame Scull felt, or didn't feel, about her husband.

"You mentioned a thousand head of cattle, Governor," Call said.

"Yes, that's the demand," Governor Pease said, in a slow, weary voice. "A thousand head --we have a month to make the delivery." "What if the Captain's already dead?" Call asked.

"Why, that's the gamble," the Governor said.

"The man might take our cattle and send us Inish's head in a sack." "Or he might just take the cattle and vanish," Call said.

"Yes, he might--but I have to send you," the Governor said. "At least I have to ask you if you'll go--I'm not forgetting that I just sent you off on a wild-goose chase just when we needed you here the most. But Ahumado has Inish and he's set a price on him. Inish is still a hero. They'll impeach me if I don't try to get him back." "Where will we get the cattle?" Call asked.

"Why, the legislature will vote the money for the cattle, I'm sure," the Governor said.

Call started to ask a practical question, only to have his mind stall. He saw Long Bill's black face again and couldn't seem to think beyond it.

The Governor talked and the Governor talked, but Call was simply unable to take in what he was saying, a fact Governor Pease finally noticed.

"Wrong time--y've got your friend to bury," he said. "We can talk of these arrangements tomorrow, when your sad duty has been done." "Thanks," Call said. He turned and was about to leave, but Governor Pease caught his arm.

"Just one more thing, Captain Call," he said.

"Inez mentioned having you to tea--don't go. The state of Texas needs you more than she does, in this troubled hour." "Yes sir, I expect it does," Call said.

When Call got back to the ranger corrals he heard the sound of hammering from behind the barn.

Ikey Ripple, the oldest ranger left alive, was making Long Bill a coffin--or, at least, he was supervising. Ikey had never advanced much in the ranks of the rangers due to his taste for supervising, as opposed to actually working.

He and Long Bill had been sincere friends, though, which is why he stood beside Deets to supervise the sawing of every plank and the driving of every nail.

"Billy was particular and he'd want to be laid out proper," Ikey said, when Call joined the group, which consisted of the entire ranger troop, such as it then was.

Augustus sat on one end of the wagon that was to haul Long Bill to his grave: he was silent, somber, and drunk. Deets put the coffin together meticulously, well aware that he was being watched by the whole troop. Lee Hitch and Stove Jones had spent a night of insobriety in a Mexican cantina; they were so hung over as to be incapable of carpentry. Stove Jones was bald and Lee Hitch shaggy--they spent their evenings in the cantina because they had ceased to be able to secure adequate credit in the saloons of Austin. Call noticed that neither man was wearing a sidearm.

"Where's your guns?" he asked them.

Lee Hitch looked at his hip and saw no pistol, which seemed to surprise him as much as if his whole leg were missing.

"Well, where is it, damn it?" he asked himself.

"I don't require you to swear," Call said. "We've a mission to go on soon and you'll need you your weapons. Where's yours, Stove?" Stove Jones took refuge in deep, silent solemnity when asked questions he didn't want to answer. He stared back at Call solemnly, but Call was not to be bluffed by such tactics, forcing Stove to rack his brain for a suitable answer.

"I expect it's under my saddle," he said finally.

"They pawned their guns, Woodrow," Augustus said. "I say just let them fight the Comanches with their pocketknives. A man who would sink so low as to pawn his own pistol deserves a good scalping, anyway." "It's not the Comanches," Call told him.

"It's Ahumado. He's got Captain Scull and he's offered to ransom him for a thousand cattle." "That lets me out--I ain't got a thousand cattle," Gus said.

"The state will buy the cattle. We have to deliver them and bring back the Captain," Call told him.

"Well, that still lets me out because I ain't a cowboy," Gus said. "I have no interest in gathering cattle for some old bandit. Let him just come and steal them. He can leave off the Captain if he wants to." Call noted that the coffin was almost finished. He saw no reason to pursue an argument with Gus at such a time. In his present mood Gus would easily find a reason to disagree with anything he might say. The men were all stunned by Long Bill's suicide. The best procedure would probably be to go on and hold the funeral, if the women were up to it. With no undertaker and no preacher, funerals were rude affairs, but they were still funerals. The womenfolk could sing, and the ceremony would draw the men away from the saloons for a few minutes. Once their old compa@nero was laid to rest there would be time to consider the matter of Ahumado and the thousand cattle.