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there for maybe fifteen minutes, I don’t know. And my wife, she went into a coma that night and she never woke up. When she die, I have a house full of relatives, of course, and the priest, and all that, and I go out—it’s summer, when she had that bad cold killed her—just to get away from all the people … ”
    Madelaine coughed some, sipped some coffee.
    “So I’m sitting out there by the little creek, on a log, glad I don’t have to hear someone tell me how sorry they are—I loved her a lot, you know, tore my insides out to lose her—and I looked up and there are my two little girls, one has a sandwich for me, the other a half-bottle of whiskey …
    Madelaine scratched her neck.
    “So I say thank you, I eat the sandwich and have some of the whiskey, and Jacqueline says ‘Mama told us to take care of you. So we do that. I’m older, so what I’m gonna do is get married soon as I can and have a lot of babies for all the babies that Mama couldn’t have for you … ’ ”
    Du Pré choked up. He caught himself, went on. Madelaine took his hand.
    “And then little Maria, who’s four, says that while Jacqueline is busy having all those babies she’ll take care of me just as good as Mama did, do a real good job for sure.”
    Madelaine squeezed Du Pré’s hand.
    “So they raised themselves always thinking got to take care of Papa, don’t upset Papa. All I can do is not get upset with them. They have done very well, better than I could have done for them, if I knew what to do for them, which I don’t, I think.”
    “They’re jealous of me,” murmured Madelaine.
    “So you drop dead, Maria will fix her hair back and start going to Mass and confession again,” said Du Pré. “Not that I like the idea.”
    “I ain’t going to drop dead,” said Madelaine. “They don’t need me mothering them, I guess.”
    “They might need it,” said Du Pré, “but they won’t have it.”
    “You’ve been a real good father to them.”
    “I keep my mouth shut, let them take care of me,” said Du Pré. “Worst of it was to have a eleven-year-old and a four-year-old do all the cooking. Some of the things I ate, smiling, I still have bad dreams on. But they got better at it and I lived.”
    Madelaine laughed, a long deep throaty one.
    “I’m jealous of them, too,” said Madelaine.
    “Why?” said Du Pré.
    “They got some of you I can’t have,” said Madelaine, “and I got some of you they can’t have.”
    “Sometimes I feel like a piece of salt-water taffy,” said Du Pré.
    “Poor Du Pré,” said Madelaine dryly. “All these women fussing over him and he feels bad used.”
    Du Pré grinned. “Not a bad life,” he said.
    Madelaine yawned. She’d been up all night with Sebastian, in the rocking chair, holding him against the pain.
    “I got to go,” said Du Pré. “They’re shipping some of those Crossed Eyes cattle, I got to sign off on them.”
    Madelaine nodded.
    Du Pré leaned over and kissed her good-bye.

CHAPTER 12
    D U P RÉ WATCHED THE brands closely. Always. A steer was a wad of hundred-dollar bills on the hoof, and it always paid to run a few weren’t yours on through. Anytime.
    Bodie was out of jail and still limping. He took one look at Du Pré and went as far away as he could without quitting the ranch entire. He spat a lot.
    Du Pré looked at the brand. Five fours any old line, couple slashes. Crossed Eyes would have been better. He wondered if the red face that had asked him who he was was strapped to a bed somewhere, screaming.
    Shipping two hundred and thirteen head. The trucks backed up and loaded their forty or whatever, two tiers.
    BAAAAAAAWWWWLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL.S S S H H H H H I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I T T T T .
    Cows don’t got much of an act, Du Pré thought.
    Loaded up, Du Pré signed off. The cattle went down to Wyoming, someone had come into a little money and hated having it, bought cattle. Well, it always was a funny business.
    Du Pré saw an old, old cowboy