The Last Kind Words Saloon: A Novel by Larry McMurtry Read Free Book Online Page A

when he saw a familiar figure riding in from the south.
    “Here comes Chief Quanah,” Bose said. “Looks like he’s found another buffalo calf for your missus.”
    “I’m trying to count,” Goodnight insisted. “The less I’m interrupted the fewer mistakes I’ll make.”
    “Besides,” he added, “I see Quanah everywhere. I can’t line up at a bank without he’s there ahead of me, putting in money.”
    But he was polite when Quanah arrived with the calf.
    “You might take that calf on to Mrs. Goodnight,” he said. “She’s in the buffalo business, thanks to you. I’m busy with the cattle business.”
    “That was after you washed out as Indian fighters,” Quanah said. “All of you except Mackenzie.”
    Goodnight was remembering that his wife had said more than once that she thought Quanah was probably the best-looking man in America. It didn’t mean Quanah was the best-looking man in America; it just meant that Mary Goodnight was prone to rash statements.
    “Tell me again what happened on the Pease River,” Quanah asked. “Because of that I had to do without a mother for the rest of my life.”
    “I suppose you can’t help dwelling on it,” Goodnight said. “I was a Ranger then—we hit a camp that was mostly women and children. The Comanche women were running for their lives. A cowboy was about to shoot your mother when I looked close and saw that she was blue-eyed—I yelled and nobody shot.”
    “I wish you’d left her—she was happy with the People.”
    “She was the most famous white captive in Texas—we couldn’t leave her,” Goodnight said. “Her family—your family too, I guess—had been looking for her for twenty years almost.”
    Bose came walking over.
    “Morning, chief,” Bose said. He reached to take the buffalo calf, but Quanah drew back.
    “I want to give it to Miss Molly myself,” he said.
    “And she ain’t Miss anything, she’s my wife,” Goodnight said.
    “Everybody but you call her Molly,” Quanah said. “What have you got against the name?”
    Goodnight didn’t answer. He went and saddled his horse.
    “He’s hard to get along with in the morning,” Quanah observed.
    “Little grouchy sometimes,” Bose admitted.
    To the north, two miles, was the emerging shell of Lord Ernle’s castle. Quanah had heard about it in Washington, from Lord Ernle himself, at a big reception to announce the big international partnership. Still, he hadn’t expected it to be so big. He was skeptical of the notion of a big cattle empire, himself. Cattle were too slow to grow and couldn’t handle the severe plains winters, as had been demonstrated a few winters back when fifty million dollars’ worth of cattle froze to death on the northern plains. If anybody could make cattle work, it would probably be Goodnight, but Quanah remained skeptical.
    Quanah himself was more interested in the social possibilities, as represented by the vast castle going up. He had never been in a castle before and looked forward to visiting Lord Ernle.
    “I hear Lord Ernle has a fine-looking woman with him . . . know anything about her?”
    “She’s tall,” Bose said. “That about all I know about her.”
    “I like tall women,” Quanah said. “Most of my wives are stocky. I hear Lord Ernle is bringing greyhounds . . . I’m hoping to take Lord Ernle on a wolf hunt. Do you know when he’s expected?”
    “Don’t know,” Bose said. He himself had not been in the fight on the Pease River when Quanah’s mother, Cynthia Ann Parker, had been retaken by the Rangers, but he had seen her several times around Austin and he had never seen a sadder woman. Her eyes held no life, no hope. When, one day, he heard she had died, he felt sure it must have been a relief.
    “If San Saba is as tall as they say she is I might ask her to be my wife. I’ve only got three,” Quanah said.
    “Three more than I’ve got,” Bose thought.
     

 
    - 22 -
    Flo had always wondered about something but had never got