Mcmurtry Larry - Dead Man's Walk стр 2.

You better turn that mare loose for awhile, Gus advised. Mattys coming with that big turtle—I dont know what she means to do with it.

Cant turn loose, Call said, but then he did release the mare, jumping sideways just in time to avoid her flailing front hooves. It was clear to him that Gus had no intention of trying to saddle the mare, not anytime soon. When there was a naked whore to watch, Gus was unlikely to want to do much of anything, except watch the whore.

Major, what about payday? Long Bill inquired again.

Major Chevallie cocked an eyebrow at Long Bill Coleman, a man noted for his thorough laziness.

Why, Bill, the mails undependable, out here beyond the Pecos, the Major said. We havent seen a mail coach since we left San Antonio.

That whore with the dern turtle wants to be paid now, one-eyed Johnny Carthage speculated.

Ive never seen a whore bold enough to snatch an old turtle right out of the Rio Grande river, Bob Bascom said. In his opinion, it had been quite unmilitary for the Major to allow Matilda Roberts to accompany them on their expedition; though how he would have stopped her, short of gunplay, was not easy to say. Matilda had simply fallen in with them when they left the settlements. She rode a large grey horse named Tom, who lost flesh rapidly once they were beyond the fertile valleys. Matilda had no fear of Indians, or of anything else, not so far as Bob Bascom was aware. She helped herself liberally to the Rangers grub, and conducted business on a pallet she spread in the bushes, when there were bushes. Bob had to admit that having a whore along was a convenience, but he still considered it unmilitary, though he was not so incautious as to give voice to his opinion.

Major Randall Chevallie was of uncertain temper at best. Rumour had it that he had, on occasions, conducted summary executions, acting as his own firing squad. His pistol was often in his hand, and though his leadership was erratic, his aim wasnt. He had twice brought down running antelope with his pistol—most of the Rangers couldnt have hit a running antelope with a rifle, or even a Gatling gun.

That whore didnt snatch that turtle out of the river, Long Bill commented. I seen that turtle sleeping on a rock, when I went to wash the puke off myself. She just snuck up on it and picked it off that rock. Look at it snap at her. Now shes got it mad!

The snapper swung its neck this way and that, working its jaws; but Matilda Roberts was holding it at arms length, and its jaws merely snapped the air.

What next? Gus said, to Call.

I dont know what next, Call said, a little irritated at his friend. Sooner or later they would have to have another try at saddling the mare—a chancy undertaking.

Maybe she means to cook it, Call added.

I have heard of slaves eating turtle, Gus said. I believe they eat them in Mississippi.

Well, I wouldnt eat one, Call informed him. Id still like to get a saddle on this mare, if you aint too busy to help.

The mare was snubbed to a low mesquite tree—she wound herself tighter and tighter, as she kicked and struggled.

Lets see what Matildas up to first, Gus said. We got all day to break horses.

All right, but youll have to take the ears, this time, Call said. Ill do the saddling.

Matilda swung her arm a time or two and heaved the big turtle in the general direction of a bunch of Rangers—the boys were cleaning their guns and musing on their headaches. They scattered like quail when they saw the turtle sailing through the air. It turned over twice and landed on its back, not three feet from the campfire.

Bigfoot Wallace squatted by the fire—he had just finished pouring himself a cup of coffee. It was chickory coffee, but at least it was black. Bigfoot paid the turtle no attention at all—Matty Roberts had always been somewhat eccentric, in his view. If she wanted to throw snapping turtles around, that was her business. He himself was occupied with more urgent concerns, one of them being the identity of the three warriors who had tortured the Mexican to death. A few hours after coming across their tracks he had dozed off and dreamed a disturbing dream about Indians. In his dream Buffalo Hump was riding a spotted horse, while Gomez walked beside him. Buffalo Hump was the meanest Comanche anyone had ever heard of, and Gomez the meanest Apache. The

fact that a Comanche killer and an Apache killer were traveling together, in his dream, was highly unpleasant. Never before, that he could remember, had he had a dream in which something so unlikely happened. He almost felt he should report the dream to Major Chevallie, but the Major, at the moment, was distracted by Matilda Roberts and her turtle.

Good morning, Miss Roberts, is that your new pet? the Major inquired, when Matilda walked up.

Nope, thats breakfast—turtle beats bacon, Matilda said. Has anybody got a shirt I can borrow? I left mine out by the pallet.She had strolled down to the river naked because she felt like having a wash in the coldwater. It wasnt deep enough to swim in, but she gave herself a good splashing. The old snapper just happened to be lazing on a rock nearby, so she grabbed it. Half the Rangers were scared of Matilda anyway, some so scared they would scarcely look at her, naked or clothed. The Major wasnt scared of her, nor was Bigfoot or young Gus; the rest of the men, in her view, were incompetents, the kind of men who were likely to run up debts and get killed before they could pay them. She sailed the snapper in their direction to let them know she expected honest behaviour. Going naked didnt hurt, either. She was big, and liked it; she could punch most men out, if she had to, and sometimes she had to; her dream was to get to California and own a fine bordello, which was why she fell in with the first Ranger troop going west. It was a scraggly little troop, composed mostly of drunks and shiftless ramblers, but she took it and was making the best of it. The alternative was to wait in Texas, get old, and never own a bordello in California.