lances. But the strange, high song seemed to come with Kicking Wolf, to ring in the air like an old witch woman’s curse. Some of the Comanches began to be a little apprehensive?they looked to their war chief, who sat as he was. It was only when Kicking Wolf ran up and Buffalo Hump saw the terror in his face, that he knew it was not a ruse. Kicking Wolf was fearless in battle?he would attack anyone, and had once killed six Pawnees in a single battle. Yet, now he was so frightened that he had cactus thorns sticking through his foot and blood on his moccasins, and he was still running. He ran right past Buffalo Hump without stopping?also, Buffalo Hump saw that Kicking Wolf had even dropped his bow; not since Kicking Wolf was a boy had he seen him without his bow in his hand.
Buffalo Hump had been listening to the death song with admiration?he had never heard one so loud before. The song came back off the distant hills, as if the singer’s ghost were already there, calling for the singer to come. But something was wrong?Kicking Wolf was terrified, and the ringing, echoing death song was causing panic among his warriors. Then Buffalo Hump saw Death Woman, with her rotting black body; he saw the great snake, twisting its head above her horse’s neck. He was so startled that he lifted his lance, but didn’t throw it. Behind Death Woman, at the far back, was a naked black woman with a lifted sword; the black woman led a white mule.
At the sight of Death Woman, with her great serpent, the Comanche warriors broke, but Buffalo Hump held his ground. Worse even than the snake twisted around the shoulders of Death Woman was the white mule that followed the tall black woman with the sword. Long ago his old grandmother, who was a spirit woman, had told him to flee from a woman with a white mule; for the coming of the white mule would mean catastrophe for the Comanche people. The great snake he didn’t fear; he could kill any snake. But there before him was the white mule of his grandmother’s spirit prophecy: he could not kill a prophecy.
It was doom, he knew. His warriors were fleeing; Kicking Wolf had fled. Buffalo Hump lowered his lance, but he did not flee. He could not kill the Texans, not even Gun-In-The-Water, not then; they were under the protection of Death Woman. But they would not escape him; he would kill them later, when Death Woman was sleeping and when the white mule was gone.He rode a little higher on the hill and waited. If Death Woman tried to come at him, he would fight, and if he could keep his face toward her he might win, for there was a prophecy, too, that he could only be killed by a lance that pierced him through his hump. He must not let the woman with the white mule and the flashing sword get behind him. As long as his hump was protected, even Death Woman could not kill him.
“Don’t look at him,” Call said, as he and Gus walked slowly past. “She’s spooked most of them, but she ain’t spooked him. Just don’t look at him. If he comes at us, the rest of them might come back, and we ain’t no match for twenty Comanches, even if they’re scared.”
Slowly, not looking up, the Texans and the women passed the ridge where Buffalo Hump sat. Lady Carey sang even louder as they passed almost beneath the great humpbacked Comanche. Her voice rose so high, it was as if she were trying to cast it into the clouds. She draped her reins over her horse’s neck, and spread her arms as she sang.
Buffalo Hump sat above them, immobile, the desert wind blowing the feathers he had tied to his lance. Call did not look up, but he felt the war chiefs hatred, as he passed below him. He tensed himself, in case the lance came flying as it had at Gus, on a stormy night not far to the south.
When they had passed the ridge and deemed it safe to stop, Lady Carey dismounted. Matilda brought her clothes. The men dropped their eyes, while she dressed. The boa, Elphinstone, was returned to its basket on the donkey. Emerald put her cloak back on, and returned Lord Carey’s sword to its fine sheath. During the excitement the donkey had managed to pull Mrs. Chubb’s straw bonnet out of the baggage pack, and had eaten half of it.
“There, who says opera isn’t useful?” Lady Carey asked, when she remounted. “I shall have to write Signor Verdi and tell him his arias were not appreciated by the wild Comanche.”
When they resumed their journey they saw a strange thing: Buffalo Hump was backing his horse, step by step, across the desert toward the north. His warriors were nowhere in sight, but he had not turned his horse to go and find them. His face was still toward the Texans?step by step, he backed his horse.
“We didn’t kill him,” Call said. “We should have.”
“That’s right,” Gus said. “We should have. He’s still out there?I reckon he’ll be back.”
“If he does come back, he won’t find me,” Long Bill said. “If I ever get to a town, I aim to take up carpentry and sleep someplace where I can lock my doors. I’ve had enough of this sleeping outside.”
“I wonder why he’s backing his horse?” Call said. “We got no gun that could shoot that far. We couldn’t hit him if we tried.”
“Go ask him, Woodrow, if you’re that curious,” Gus said.
WHEN THEY RODE IN at dusk to San Antonio, two barefoot friars were bringing a little herd of goats within the walls of the old mission by the river. Somewhere within the walls, another priest was singing.
“Why, it’s vespers,” Lady Carey said. “Isn’t it lovely, Mrs. Chubb? It rather reminds me of Rome.”
“A plain English hymn will do for me,” Mrs. Chubb said.
“A plain English hymn and no donkeys,” she added, a bit later. “I’m afraid I will never be reconciled to donkeys.”
Ten days later, on a pier in Galveston, Mrs. Chubb was still complaining of donkeys, to any sailor who would listen.
“Not only did it bite my toe, it ate my best bonnet,” she said, but no one listened.
Lady Carey paid the Texans one hundred dollars each, a sum so large that none of the four could quite grasp that they had it. She gave Matilda two hundred dollars, a sum that made Gus jealous? after all, what had Matilda done that he hadn’t? Then, as Call and Gus, Matilda, Wesley, and Long Bill stood on the pier in the warm salty breeze, the English party boarded a boat whose mast was taller than most trees. Young Willy waved, and Lady Carey, still triply veiled, waved her hand. Mrs. Chubb was gone, still complaining, and Emerald, the tall Negress, looked at the shore but did not wave.
The Texans stood watching as the boat pulled away and began its journey across the great grey plain of the sea. Gus was talking of whores again, as the boat pulled away, but Call was silenced by the immense sweep of the water. He had not expected the sea to be so large: soon the boat containing Lady Carey and her party began to disappear, as a wagon might as it made its way across a sea of grass.
Woodrow Call could be subdued by the ocean if he wanted to? Gus McCrae, for his part, had never felt happier: he was rich, he was safe, and the port of Galveston virtually teemed with whores. He had already visited five.
“I guess this is where I quit the rangering, boys,” Long Bill said, with a sigh. “It’s rare sport, but it ain’t quite safe.”
Woodrow Call said nothing; the little ship had vanished. He was watching the sea.
Wesley Buttons knew that he could no longer avoid going home and telling his mother that his two brothers were dead, killed by Mexican soldiers in New Mexico.
Matilda Roberts was thinking that she was farther from California than ever?but at least she had money in her pocket.
“Now, Woodrow, come on,” Gus said, taking his friend’s arm. “Let’s whore a little, and then lope up to Austin.”
“Austin?why?” Call asked.
“So I can see if that girl in the general store still wants to marry me,” Gus said.
End
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