Dead Man's Walk Read Free Page B

the Mexican mare saddled, but everyone in camp was lying behind sandhills with their rifles ready. Even Gus had grabbed his old gun and taken cover.

Major Chevallie was attempting to unhobble his horse, but he had no dexterity and was making a slow job of it.

"You boys, come help me!" he yelled--from the precipitate behaviour of Shadrach and Bigfoot, the most experienced men in the troop, he assumed that the camp was in danger of being overrun.

Gus and Call ran to the Major's aid. The wind was so cold that Gus even thought it prudent to button the top button of his flannel shirt.

"Goddamn this wind!" the Major said. During breakfast he had been rereading a letter from his dear wife, Jane. He had read the letter at least twenty times, but it was the only letter he had with him and he did love his winsome Jane. When the business about Gomez and Buffalo Hump came up he had casually stuffed the letter in his coat pocket, but he didn't get it in securely, and now the whistling wind had snatched it. It was a long letter--his dear Jane was lavish with detail of circumstances back in Virginia--and now several pages of it were blowing away, in the general direction of Mexico.

"Here, boys, fetch my letter!" the Major said. "I can't afford to lose my letter.

I'll finish saddling this horse." Call and Gus left the Major to finish cinching his saddle on his big sorrel and began to chase the letter, some of which had sailed quite a distance downwind. Both of them kept looking over their shoulders, expecting to see the Indians charging.

Call had not had time to fetch his rifle--his only weapon was a pistol.

Thanks to his efforts with the mare, the talk of torture and suicide had been hard to follow.

Call liked to do things correctly, but was in doubt as to the correct way to dispatch himself, should he suddenly be surrounded by Comanches.

"What was it Bigfoot said about shooting out your brains?" he asked Gus, his lanky pal.

Gus had run down four pages of the Major's lengthy letter. Call had three pages. Gus didn't seem to be particularly concerned about the prospect of Comanche capture-- his nonchalant approach to life could be irksome in times of conflict.

"I'd go help Matty clean her turtle if I thought she'd give me a poke," Gus said.

"Gus, there's Indians coming," Call said.

"Just tell me what Bigfoot said about shooting out your brains.

"That whore don't need no help with that turtle," he added.

"Oh, you're supposed to shoot through the eyeball," Gus said. "I'll be damned if I would, though. I need both eyes to look at whores." "I should have kept my rifle handier," Call said, annoyed with himself for having neglected sound procedure. "Do you see any Indians yet?" "No, but I see Josh Corn taking a shit," Gus said, pointing at their friend Josh.

He was squatting behind a sage bush, rifle at the ready, while he did his business.

"I guess he must think it's his last chance before he gets scalped," Gus added.

Major Chevallie jumped on his sorrel and started to race after Shadrach, but had scarcely cleared the camp before he reined in his horse.

Call could just see him, in the swirling dust--the plain to the north of the camp had become a wall of sand.

"I wonder how we can get some money--I sure do need a poke," Gus said. He had turned his back to the wind and was casually reading the Major's letter, an action that shocked Call.

"That's the Major's letter," he pointed out.

"You got no business reading it." "Well, it don't say much anyway," Gus said, handing the pages to Call. "I thought it might be racy, but it ain't." "If I ever write a letter, I don't want to catch you reading it," Call said. "I think Shad's coming back." His eyes were stinging, from staring into the dust.

There seemed to be figures approaching camp from the north. Call couldn't make them out clearly, and Gus didn't seem to be particularly interested. Once he began to think about whores he had a hard time pulling his mind off the subject.

"If we