Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

But she couldn’t learn that trick. She thought of being dead, but she didn’t die, and she didn’t try to escape either. She didn’t know where she was, for the plains stretched around, empty and bare, as far as she could see. They had horses and they would catch her and do something to her, or else give her to the Kiowas. Monkey John threatened that too, describing what the Kiowas would do if they got the chance. At night that was mostly what the men talked about—what the Indians did to people they caught. She believed it. Often with the Kiowas she felt a deep fright come over her. They did what they wanted with her but it wasn’t enough—she could see them looking at her after they finished, and the looks made her more scared even than the things Monkey John threatened. The Kiowas just looked, but there was something in their looks that made her wish she could be dead and not have to think about it.

Blue Duck came and went. Some days he would be there at the camp, sharpening his knife. Other days he would ride off.

Sometimes the Kiowas went with him, other days they sat around their camp doing nothing. Monkey John swore at them, but the Kiowas didn’t listen. They laughed at the old man and gave him looks of the sort they gave Lorena. It wasn’t only women they could do things to.

One day the Kiowas found a crippled cow, left by some herd. The cow had a split hoof and could barely hobble along onthree legs. The Kiowas poked it with their lances and got it in sight of camp. Then one hit it in the head with an ax and the cow fell dead. The Kiowas split open the cow’s stomach and began to pull out her guts. They sliced off strips of the white guts and squeezed out what was in them, eating it greedily. That’s what he said he’d do to me, Lorena thought. Pull out my guts like that cow.

“Look at them dern gut eaters,” Dog Face said. “I’d be denied if I’d eat guts raw.” “You might if you was hungry,” Monkey John said.

“They ain’t hungry, they got the whole cow,” Dog Face pointed out.

If there was hope for her, Lorena knew it lay with Dog Face. He was rough and crazy, but he wasn’t hard like the old man.

He might cuff her if she disappointed him, but he didn’t beat her with hot sticks or kick her stomach like the old man did.

At times she caught Dog Face looking at her in a friendly way. He was getting so he didn’t like Monkey John to hurt her or even touch her. He was cautious about what he said, for the old man would flare up in an instant, but when Monkey John bothered her, Dog Face got restless and would often take his gun and leave the camp. Monkey John didn’t care—he played with her roughly whether anyone was in camp or not.

One night Blue Duck rode in from one of his mysterious trips with some whiskey, which he dispensed freely both to the two white men and to the Kiowas. Blue Duck drank with them, but not much, whereas in an hour Monkey John, Dog Face and the Kiowas were very drunk. It was a hot night but they built a big campfire and sat around it, passing the bottle from hand to hand.

Lorena began to feel frightened. Blue Duck had not so much as looked at her, but she felt something was about to happen. He had several bottles of whiskey, and as soon as the men finished one he handed them another. Monkey John was particularly sloppy when he drank. The whiskey ran out of the corners of his mouth and into his dirty beard. Once he stood up and made water without even turning his back.

“You could go off aways,” Dog Face said. “I don’t want to sit in your piss.” The old man continued to make water, most of it hitting the campfire and making a spitting sound, but some splattering on the ground near where Dog Face sat.

“I could but I ain’t about to,” the old man said. “Scoot back if you’re afraid of a little piss.” Blue Duck spread a blanket near the fire and began to roll dice on it. The Kiowas immediately got excited. Ermoke grabbed the dice and rolled them several times. Each of the Kiowas had a try, but Monkey John scoffed at their efforts.

“Them gut eaters can’t throw dice,” he said.

“You better be quiet,” Blue Duck said. “Ermoke wouldn’t mind frying your liver.” “He tries it and I’ll blow a hole in him you could catch rain water through,” Monkey John said.

“Let’s gamble,” Blue Duck said. “I ain’t had a game in a while.” “Gamble for what?” Dog Face asked. “All I got is my gun and I’d be in pretty shape without that. Or my horses.” “Put up your horses then,” Blue Duck said. “You might win.” Dog Face shook his head.

“I don’t know much,” Dog Face said. “But I know better than to bet my dern horses. There ain’t nowhere to walk to from this Canadian that a man can get to on foot.” Yet an hour later he lost his horses to Blue Duck. Monkey John lost his on the first roll. Before long Blue Duck had won all the horses, though many of the Indians were so drunk they hardly seemed to know what was happening.

Blue Duck had a heavy, square face—he kept shaking the dice in his big hand. Sometimes he would play with a strand of his shaggy hair, as a girl would. Sometimes Lorena thought maybe she could grab a gun and shoot him—the men left their rifles laying around. But the gun hadn’t worked when she tried to shoot Tinkersley, and if she tried to shoot Blue Duck and didn’t kill him she would be in for it. She might be in for it anyway, though it seemed to her the men were scared of him too. Even Monkey John was cautious when Blue Duck was around. They might be glad to see him dead. She didn’t try it. It was because she was so frightened of him that she wanted to, yet the same fright kept her from it.

“Well, now I’ve won the livestock,” Blue Duck said. “Or most of it.” “Most of it, hell, you’ve won it all,” Monkey John said. “We’re stuck on this goddamn river.” “I ain’t won the girl,” Blue Duck said.

“A woman ain’t livestock,” Dog Face said.

“This one is,” Blue Duck said. “I’ve bought and sold better animals than her many times.” “Well, she’s ours,” Monkey John said.“She’s just half yours,” Blue Duck reminded him. “Ermoke and his boys own a half interest.” “We was aiming to buy them out,” Dog Face said.

Blue Duck laughed his heavy laugh. “By the time you raise the money, there won’t be much left to buy,” he said. “You’d do better to buy a goat.” .

“Don’t want no goddamn goat,” Dog Face said. He was nervous about the turn the conversation was taking.

“Let’s gamble some more,” Blue Duck said, shaking the dice at Ermoke. “Bet me your half interest in the woman. If you win I’ll let you have your horses back.” Ermoke shook his head, looking at Lorena briefly across the campfire.

“No,” he said. “We want the woman.” “Come on, let’s gamble,” Blue Duck said, a threatening tone in his voice. All the Kiowas looked at him. The two white men kept quiet.