But somehow he could not get up the nerve even to make the suggestion to Lorena. It was hard enough to make a plain business offer. Often she seemed not to hear questions when they were put to her. It was hard to make a girl realize you had special feelings for her when she wouldn't look at you, didn't hear you, and made your throat clog up. It was even harder to live with the thought that the girl in question didn't want you to have the special feelings, particularly if you were about to go up the trail and not see her for many months.

Confusing as these feelings were, they were made even worse for Dish by the realization that he couldn't afford even the transaction that the girl would accept. He was down to his last two bits, having lost a full month's wages in a game in Matamoros. He had no money, and no eloquence with which to persuade Lorena to trust him, but he did have a dogged persistence and was prepared to sit in the Dry Bean all night in hope that his evident need would finally move her.

Under the circumstances it was a sore trial to Dish that Augustus had come in. It seemed to him that Lorie had been getting a little friendlier, and if nothing had happened to distract her he might soon have prevailed. At least it had been just him and her at the table, which had been nice in itself. But now it was him and her and Augustus and Lippy, making it difficult, if not impossible, for him to plead his case-though all he had really been doing by way of pleading was to look at her frequently with big hopeful eyes.

Lippy began to feel unhappy about the fact that Xavier had thrown his hat out the door. Augustus's mention of the pigs put the whole matter in a more ominous light. After all, the pigs might come along and eat the hat, which was one of the solidest comforts in his meager existence. He would have liked to go and retrieve the hat before the pigs came along, but he knew that it wasn't really wise to provoke Xavier unduly when he was in a bad mood anyway. He couldn't see out the back door because the bar was in the way-for all he knew the hat might already be gone.

"I wisht I could get back to St. Louis," he said. "I hear it's a right busy town." He had been reared there, and when his heart was heavy he returned to it in his thoughts.

"Why, hell, go," Augustus said. "Life's a short affair. Why spend it here?"

"Well, you are," Dish said, in a surly tone, hoping Gus would take the hint and set out immediately.

"Dish, you sound like you've got a sour stomach," Augustus said. "What you need is a good satisfying game of cards."

"Nothing of the kind," Dish said, casting a bold and solicitous glance at Lorena.

Looking at her, though, was like looking at the hills. The hills stayed as they were. You could go to them, if you had the means, but they extended no greeting.

Xavier stood at the door, staring into the dark. The rag he used to wipe the tables was dripping onto his pants leg, but he didn't notice.

"It's too bad nobody in town ain't dead," Augustus remarked. "This group has the makings of a first-rate funeral party. What about you, Wanz? Let's play cards."

Xavier acquiesced. It was better than nothing. Besides, he was a devilish good cardplayer, one of the few around who was a consistent match for Augustus. Lorena was competent-Tinkersley had taught her a little. When the Dry Bean was full of cowboys she was not allowed to sit in, but on nights when the clientele consisted of Augustus, she often played.

When she played, she changed, particularly if she won a little-Augustus frequently did his best to help her win a little, just to see the process take place. The child in her was briefly reborn-she didn't chatter, but she did occasionally laugh out loud, and her cloudy eyes cleared and became animated. Once in a while, when she won a really good pot, she would give Augustus a little punch with her fist. It pleased him when that happened-it was good to see the girl enjoying herself. It put him in mind of family games, the kind he had once played with his lively sisters in Tennessee. The memory of those games usually put him to drinking more than he liked to-and all because Lorie ceased being a sulky whore for a little while and reminded him of happy girls he had once known.

They played until the rustler's moon had crossed to the other side of town. Lorena brightened so much that Dish Boggett fell worse in love with her than ever; she filled him with such an ache that he didn't mind that Xavier won half of his next month's wages. The ache was very much with him when he finally decided there was no hope and stepped out into the moonlight to unhitch his horse.

Augustus had come with him, while Lippy sneaked out the back door to retrieve his hat. The light in Lorena's room came on while they were standing there, and Dish looked up at it, catching just her shadow as she passed in front of the lamp.

"Well, Dish, so you're leaving us," Augustus said. "Which outfit's lucky enough to have you this trip?"

The quick glimpse of Lorena put Dish in such perplexity of spirit that he could hardly focus on the question.

"Reckon I'm going with the UU's," he said, his eyes still on the window.

The cause of Dish's melancholy was not lost on Augustus.

"Why that's Shanghai Pierce's bunch," he said.

"Yup," Dish said, starting to lift his foot to his stirrup.

"Now hold on a minute, Dish," Augustus said. He fished in his pocket and came out with two dollars, which he handed to the surprised cowboy.

"If you're riding north with old Shang we may never meet again this side of the bourn," Augustus said, deliberately adopting the elegiac tone. "At the very least you'll get your hearing ruint. That voice of his could deafen a rock."

Dish had to smile. Gus seemed unaware that one of the more persistent topics of dispute on the Texas range was whether his voice was louder than Shanghai Pierce's. It was commonly agreed that the two men had no close rivals when it came to being deafening.

"Why'd you give me this money?" Dish asked. He had never been able to figure Gus out.

"You asked me for it, didn't you?" Augustus said. "If I'd given it to you before the game started I might as well have handed it to Wanz, and he don't need no two dollars of mine."

There was a pause while Dish tried to puzzle out the real motive, if there was one.

"I'd not want it thought I'd refuse a simple loan to a friend," Augustus said. "Specially not one who's going off with Shanghai Pierce."

"Oh, Mr. Pierce don't go with us," Dish said. "He goes over to New Orleans and takes the train."

Augustus said nothing, and Dish soon concluded that he was to get the loan, even if the aggravation of Mr. Pierce's company wasn't involved.

"Well, much obliged then," Dish said. "I'll see you in the fall if not sooner."

"There's no need for you to ride off tonight," Augustus said. "You can throw your blanket down on our porch, if you like."

"I might do that," Dish said. Feeling rather awkward, he rehitched his horse and went to the door of the Dry Bean, wanting to get upstairs before Lorie turned off her light.

"I believe I left something," he said lamely, at the door of the saloon.

"Well, I won't wait, Dish," Augustus said. "But we'll expect you for breakfast if you care to stay."

As he strolled away he heard the boy's footsteps hitting the stairs at the back of the saloon. Dish was a good boy, not much less green than Newt, though a more experienced hand. Best to help such boys have their moment of fun, before life's torments snatched them.

From a distance, standing in the pale street, he saw two shadows against the yellow box of light from Lorie's room. She wasn't that set against Dish, it seemed to him, and she had been pepped up from the card playing. Maybe even Lorie would be surprised and find a liking for the boy. Occasionally he had known sporting women to marry and do well at it-if Lorie were so inclined Dish Boggett would not be a bad man to settle on.