He had his big lance in his hand.
'Slow Tree heard me tell you to leave the Kickapoo alone,' Buffalo Hump said.
'He did not want to assist you in your disobedience.
Now I am telling you to go. You have never been obedient and I have no time to argue with you or to correct your ways. If you stay I will kill you soon, because of what is in you that will not obey. You have courage but you are rude. Take the five horses and go away now. Any warrior who sees you near this camp after today has a duty to kill you.' Blue Duck had not expected such a terrible judgment to fall on him so quickly. Yet it had fallen. Though he didn't really like many people in their band, it was the camp where he had always lived. He had always been where the tribe was; his roaming had seldom lasted more than a week. When he could not kill game there would be food in the camp. He felt a terrible anger at the Kickapoo, for having brought such a judgment on him. The next time he saw Famous Shoes he would kill him, and he would also like to kill Slow Tree, the fat chief who had been unwilling to torture Famous Shoes merely because Buffalo Hump had forbidden it.
But he could not think much about such things, not then, when his father still stood before him. He had his rifle in his hand; perhaps he should shoot his father right there. But he didn't shoot, or do anything at all. As always, when confronting his father, he felt a weakness in his legs and his belly. The weakness paralyzed him. He knew that if he tried to raise his gun and shoot, Buffalo Hump would be quicker. His father would shove the big lance into him. Blue Duck thought of murder but did nothing.
Buffalo Hump watched his son for a minute and then turned away. A little later he saw the boy ride out to the horse herd, to select his five horses. He looked dejected, but Buffalo Hump did not relent. He had returned home tired, only to have to listen half the night to stories of Blue Duck's bad behaviour.
The boy had beaten Hair On The Lip severely, though he had no right to. Hair On The Lip was still sore and could not move well.
Also, Blue Duck had followed Lark when she went into the bushes to make water, and had spoken to her rudely. Also he had raced a fine young horse that belonged to Last Horse's father. In the race he put the horse off a cutbank and it broke both its front legs. Of course it had to be killed and eaten; the old man was indignant and wanted a high price for the horse that had been lost.
Buffalo Hump had never been able to like his son and now he wanted to see him gone. He had never been obedient to the Comanche way, and never would. The bluecoat soldiers would be coming onto the llano to fight them soon, in a year or two; Buffalo Hump didn't want anyone in the camp who was only disposed to make trouble, as Blue Duck had.
Soon ^w of the banishment spread around the camp. Buffalo Hump was with Lark for a long time; when he came out he discovered that the men and women who came to visit him were more cheerful. All of them approved of what he had done. A few brought him new stories of Blue Duck's bad behaviour, mostly with women. Buffalo Hump was not especially disturbed by these stories. Many young warriors strutted too much with women and were not careful about marriage customs--he himself had almost been banished in his youth because of his lusts.
Later that day Fat Knee came hesitantly up to Buffalo Hump--it seemed that Blue Duck wanted Fat Knee to accompany him into exile. Blue Duck planned to go north and east, into a territory where renegades and exiles from many tribes gathered.
There were slavers there, and bandits. They watched the Arkansas River and picked off people who travelled in boats, or freighters who hauled goods in wagons. Blue Duck told Fat Knee they would soon be rich if they joined the renegades, but Fat Knee was hesitant.
'Isn't he gone yet?' Buffalo Hump asked.
'No,' Fat Knee said. 'He is still looking at the horses. He wants to take the best five.' A wind had come up. Sand was blowing through the camp. It had been warm for several days but a cold wind was bringing the sand.
'You stay in camp,' Buffalo Hump said.
'I will go drive him away.' He found the whole business vexing. The fact that Blue Duck was still prowling around the horse herd was annoying, so annoying that Buffalo Hump caught his own horse, took his lance, and immediately rode out to the horse herd. Blue Duck's delay was merely one more example of his disobedience. Buffalo Hump thought it might be wiser just to kill the boy--talking to him that morning, his arm had tensed twice, as it did when he was ready to throw his lance. But he had held off-- exile should be enough--but now the boy had angered him by not leaving.
When he reached the horse herd the only person who was there was Last Horse--one of his mares had just foaled and he was watching for a bit, to see that no coyote slipped in and killed the foal.
'I thought Blue Duck was here,' Buffalo Hump said.
Last Horse merely pointed upward to the rim of the canyon. A rider with five horses in front of him had climbed out of the canyon and was following the horses along the rim.
Buffalo Hump could barely see the rider through the blowing sand, but he knew it was Blue Duck, leaving.
'Whoa, now ... stop, boys!' Augustus said.
Far down the river, in the shallows, he saw something he didn't like; something blue. The creature was a good distance away, but it was rolling in the shallow water; Gus judged it to be an aquatic beast of some sort. Few land animals worried him, but he had long been afflicted with an unreasoning fear of aquatic beasts--and now one had appeared in the muddy Rio Grande, where, up to then, they had seen nothing more threatening than the occasional snapping turtle.
The rangers immediately stopped and yanked out their rifles. Thanks to the hostility, as well as the volatility, of the south Texas cattle, they had become well accustomed to yanking out their rifles several times a day. Gus McCrae was known to have exceptional eyesight; if he saw something worth calling a halt for, then it was best to look to their weapons.
'What is it?' Call asked. All he saw ahead of them was the brown Rio Grande. An old Mexican with three goats whom they came upon half an hour earlier assured them that they were nearly to the town of Lonesome Dove--Call was anxious to hurry on, in hopes that Captain King would be there. But Augustus apparently saw something that made him nervous, something Call could not yet see.
'It's blue and it's in the edge of the water, Woodrow,' Gus said. 'I expect it might be a shark.' 'Oh Lord, a shark,' Stove Jones said, wishing suddenly that he had never left the cozy cantinas of Austin.
