Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“It ain’t snow, it’s hail,” Needle said.

“I thought snow was white,” Newt said, disappointed.

“They’re both white,” Needle said. “The difference is, hail is harder.” Within a few minutes, Newt was to find out just how hard. The sky began to rain balls of ice—small at first, but then not so small.

“By God, we better get in that river,” Needle said. He had a large hat and was trying to hide under it, but the hailstones pounded his body.

Newt looked around for the wagon, but couldn’t see it, the hail was so thick. Then he couldn’t see Needle, either. He spurred hard and raced for the river, though he didn’t know what he was supposed to do once he got there. As he ran for the river, he almost trampled Jasper, who had dismounted and made a kind of tent of his slicker and saddle—he was crouching under it in the mud.

It was hailing so thickly that when they did reach the river Mouse jumped off a six-foot bank, throwing Newt. Again, he managed to hang onto his reins, but he was naked, and hailstones were pounding all around him. When he stood up he happened to notice that Mouse made a kind of wall. By crouching close under him Newt avoided most of the hailstones—Mouse absorbed them. Mouse wasn’t happy about it, but since he had taken it upon himself to jump off the bank, Newt didn’t feel very sorry for him.

He crouched under the horse until the hailstorm subsided, which was not more than ten minutes after it began. The muddy banks of the Canadian were covered with hailstones, and so were the plains around them. The cattle and horses crunched through the hail as they walked. Isolated stones continued to plop down now and then, bouncing off the ones already there.

Newt saw that the cattle had crossed the wild Canadian, the river that had scared everybody, without much help from the cowboys, who were scattered here and there, naked, crouched under their saddles or, in some cases, their horses. It was a funny sight; Newt was so glad to be alive that suddenly he felt like laughing. Funniest of all was Pea Eye, who stood not thirty yards away, up to his neck in the river, with his hat on. He was just standing there calmly, waiting for the hail to stop.

“How come you got in the water?” Newt asked, when Pea waded out.

“It’s fine protection,” Pea said. “It can’t hail through water.” It was amazing to Newt to see the plains, which had been mostly brown a few minutes before, turned mostly white.

The Irishman walked up leading his horse and kicking hailstones out of the way. He began to pick up the hailstones and throw them in the river. Soon several of the cowboys were doing it, seeing who could throw the farthest or make the hailstones skip across the water.

Then they saw a strange sight: Po Campo was gathering hailstones in a bucket, the two pigs following him like dogs.“What do you reckon he expects to do with them?” Needle Nelson asked.

“I guess he’ll stew ’em, probably,” Pea said. “He’s looking them over like he’s picking peas.” “I wouldn’t want to see this outfit naked tomorrow,” Jasper said. “I guess we’ll all be black and blue. One hit me on the elbow and I can’t straighten my arm yet.” “You don’t do much with it when you do straighten it,” Bert remarked unsympathetically.

“Just ’cause he can’t rope like you can don’t mean he wouldn’t like to use his arm,” Pea Eye said. Everyone picked on Jasper, and once in a while Pea felt obliged to come to his defense. He swung onto his horse and froze before getting his other foot in the stirrup. He had happened to glance across the river and had spotted a horseman riding toward them.

The crew on the north bank had their backs to the rider and hadn’t seen him.

“Why, I swear, it’s Gus,” Pea Eye said. “He ain’t dead at all.” They all looked, and saw the rider coming.

“How do you know it’s him?” Bert wanted to know. “He’s too far. It could be an Indian chief for all you know.” “I guess I know Gus,” Pea said. “I wonder where he’s been.

ONCE THEY HIT the Territory, Newt began to worry about Indians. He was not alone in his worrying. The Irishman had heard so much about scalping that he often tugged at his own hair as if to reassure himself that it wouldn’t come off easily. Pea Eye, who spent most of his time sharpening his knife or making sure he had enough ammunition, was astonished that the Irishman had never seen a scalped person. During Pea’s years as a Ranger they were always finding scalped settlers, and, for that matter, several of his friends had been scalped.

The Spettle boys, who were slowly becoming more talkative, confided in Newt that they would run away and go home if they weren’t afraid of getting lost.

“But you have to drive the horses,” Newt pointed out. “The Captain hired you.” “Didn’t know we was coming where the Indians were,” Bill Spettle said.

For all the talk, they saw neither Indians nor cowboys for days on end. They saw no one—just an occasional wolf or coyote. It seemed to Newt that the sky got bigger and the country emptier every day. There was nothing to see but grass and sky. The space was so empty that it was hard to imagine that there might ever be towns in it, or people.

The Irishman particularly found the huge emptiness disturbing. “I guess we left the people,” he said often. Or, “When’s the next people?” Nobody was quite sure when to expect the next people. “It’s too bad Gus ain’t here,” Pea Eye said. “Gus would know.

He’s an expert on where places is at.” “Why, there’s nothing north of here,” Dish said, surprised that anyone would think otherwise. “You have to go east a ways to get into the towns.” “I thought we was going to strike Ogallala,” Needle reminded him.

“I don’t say we won’t,” Dish said. “That’s up to the Captain. But if it ain’t no bigger than Dodge, it wouldn’t take much to miss it.” Po Campo had become a great favorite with the men because of the tastiness of his cooking. He was friendly and kind to everyone, and yet, like the Captain, he kept apart. Po just did it in a different way. He might sing to them in his throaty voice, but he was a man of mystery, a strange man, walking all day behind the wagon, and at night whittling his little women. Soon each of the cowboys had been given one of the carvings.

“To remind you of your sisters,” Po said.