Augustus ate most of the fried chicken and marveled at how comfortable Lorena seemed to be. She liked the girls, and seeing her with them reminded him that she was not much more than a girl herself, despite her experiences. He knew that she had been advanced too quickly into life, though perhaps not so far to yet enjoy a bit of girlhood.

When it came time to go back to the ranch he helped Lorie into the wagon with the girls, and he and Clara walked behind. Newt, who had enjoyed the picnic mightily, fell into conversation with Sally and rode beside the wagon. Lorena didn't seem concerned-she and Betsey had taken to one another at once, and were chatting happily.

"You should leave that girl here," Clara said, startling Augustus. He had been thinking the same thing.

"I doubt she'd stay," he said.

"If you stay out of it she might," Clara said. "I'll ask her. You have no business taking a girl like that into Montana. She might not survive."

"In some ways she ain't so young," he said.

"I like her," Clara said, ignoring him. "I expect you'll marry her and I'll have to watch you have five or six babies in your old age. I guess I'd be annoyed, but I could live with it. Don't take her up to Montana. She'll either die or get killed, or else she'll age before her time, like I have."

"I can't tell that you've aged much," Augustus said.

"You've just been around me one day," Clara said. "There's certain things I can still do and certain things I'm finished with."

"What things are you finished with?" he asked.

"You'd find out if you stayed around me much," Clara said.

"I notice you've taken a fancy to young Mr. Johnson," Augustus said. "I expect if I did stay around he'd beat me out."

"He's nearly as dull as Woodrow Call, but he's nicer," Clara said. "He'll do what he's told, mostly, and I've come to appreciate that quality in a man. I could never count on you to do what you're told."

"So do you aim to marry him?"

"No, that's one of the things I'm through with," Clara said. "Of course I ain't quite-poor Bob ain't dead. But if he passes away, I'm through with it."

Clara smiled. Augustus chuckled. "I hope you ain't contemplating an irregular situation," he said.

Clara smiled. "What's irregular about having a boarder?" she asked. "Lots of widows take boarders. Anyway, he likes my girls better than he likes me. He might be ready to marry again by the time Sally's of age."

At that moment Sally was chattering away to young Newt, who was getting his first taste of conversation with a sprightly young lady.

"Who's his mother?" Clara asked. She liked the boy's looks, and also his manners. "I never knew Call was prone to ladies," she added.

"Oh, Woodrow ain't," Augustus said. "He can barely stand to be within fifty yards of you."

"I know that," Clara said. "He's been stiff all day because I won't bargain away my horses. My price is my price. But that boy's his, and don't you tell me he ain't. They walk alike, they stand alike, and they look alike."

"I expect you're right," Augustus said.

"Yes, I'm right," Clara said. "You ain't answered my question."

"His mother was a woman named Maggie," he said. "She was a whore. She died when Newt was six."

"I like that boy," Clara said. "I'd keep him too, if I got the chance. He's about the age my Jimmy would be, if Jimmy had lived."

"Newt's a fine boy," Augustus said.

"It's a miracle, ain't it, when one grows up nice," Clara said. "He's got a quiet way, that boy. I like that. It's surprising to find gentle behavior when his father is Captain Call."

"Oh, Newt don't know Call's his father," Augustus said. "I expect he's heard hints, but he don't know it."

"And Call don't claim him, when anybody can see it?" Clara said, shocked. "I never had much opinion of Call, and now I have less."

"Call don't like to admit mistakes," Augustus said. "It's his way."

"What mistake?" Clara said. "I wouldn't call it a mistake if I raised a boy that nice. My Jimmy had wildness in him. I couldn't handle him, though he died when he was eight. I expect he'd have ended like Jake. Now where'd it come from? I ain't wild, and Bob ain't wild."

"I don't know," Augustus said.

"Well, I had two sweet ones, though," Clara said. "My last one, Johnny, was the sweetest. I ain't been the same since that child died. It's a wonder the girls aren't worse-behaved than they are. I don't consider that I've ever had the proper feeling for them. It went out of me that winter I lost Jeff and Johnny."

They walked in silence for a while.

"Why don't you tell that boy who his pa is?" Clara said. "I'd do it, if he was around here long. He should know who his pa is. He's got to wonder."

"I always thought Call would work up to it, eventually," Augustus said. "I still think so."

"I don't," Clara said.

A big gray wolf loped up out of the riverbed, looked at them for a moment, and loped on.

Ahead, the baby was fretting, and the girls and Lorena were trying to shush it.

When they got back to the ranch, Call gave in and told Clara he'd pay her price for the horses. He didn't like it, but he couldn't stay around there forever, and her horses were in far better condition than the nags he had looked at in Ogallala.

"Fine, go help him, boys," Clara said. Cholo and July went off to help. Newt was helping the girls carry the remains of the picnic in.

He was sorry they were leaving. Sally had been telling him all she planned to do when she grew up. She was going East to school and then planned to play the piano professionally, she said. That seemed unusual to Newt. The only musician he knew was Lippy, and he couldn't imagine Sally doing what Lippy did. But he enjoyed listening to her talk about her future life.

As he was coming down the steps, Clara stopped him. She put an arm across his shoulder and walked him to his horse. No woman had ever done such a thing with him.

"Newt, we've enjoyed having you," Clara said. "I want you to know that if Montana don't suit you, you can just head back here. I'll give you all the work you can stand."

"I'd like to," Newt said. He meant it. Since meeting the girls and seeing the ranch, he had begun to wonder why they were taking the herd so far. It seemed to him Nebraska had plenty of room.

For most of the trip Newt had supposed that nothing could be better than being allowed to be a cowboy, but now that they had got to Nebraska, his thinking was changing. Between the Buffalo Heifer and the other whores in Ogallala and Clara's spirited daughters, he had begun to see that a world with women in it could be even more interesting. The taste he had of that world seemed all too brief. Though he had been more or less scared of Clara all day, and was still a little scared of her, there was something powerfully appealing about her, too.

"Thank you for the picnic," he said. "I never went on one before."

Something in the boy touched Clara. Boys had always touched her-far more than girls. This one had a lonely look in his eye although he also had a quick smile.

"Come back when you can, we'll go on many more," she said. "I believe Sally's taken a fancy to you."

Newt didn't know what to say to that. He got on his horse. "I expect I better go help, ma'am," he said.

"If you get to choose one of my horses, choose that little sorrel with the star on his forehead," Clara said. "He's the best of that bunch."

"Oh, I imagine Dish will get the first pick," Newt said. "Dish is our top hand."

"Well, I don't want Dish to have him," Clara said. "I want you to have him. Come on."

She started for the lots and made straight for Call.

"Captain," she said, "there's a three-year-old sorrel gelding with a white star on his forehead in this lot you bought. I want to give that horse to Newt, so don't let anyone have him. You can deduct him from the price."