Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“And you were usually late for meals,” Augustus reminded him.

Then Pea Eye insisted on shaking hands, though Jake had never been very partial to him. “By gosh, Jake, you stayed gone a while,” Pea Eye said.

While they were shaking Jake noticed the boy, standing there by some lank cowhand with a heavy mustache. “My lord,” he said. “Are you little Newt? Why you’re plumb growed. Who let that happen?” Newt felt so full of feeling that he could hardly speak. “It’s me, Jake,” he said. “I’m still here.” “What do you think, Captain?” Deets asked, handing Call the receipt from the bank. “Didn’t I find the prodigal?” “You found him,” Call said. “I bet he wasn’t in church, either.” Deets had a laugh at that. “No, sir,” he said. “Not in church.” Jake was introduced to Dish Boggett, but once he shook hands he turned and had another look at Newt as if the fact that he was nearly grown surprised him more than anything else in Lonesome Dove.

“I swear, Jake,” Augustus said, looking at the bay horse, “you’ve rode that horse right down to the bone.” “Give him a good feed, Deets,” Call said. “I judge it’s been a while since he’s had one.” Deets led the horses off toward the roofless barn. It was true that he made his pants out of old quilts, for reasons that no one could get him to explain. Colorful as they were, quilts weren’t the best material for riding through mesquite and chaparral. Thorns had snagged the pants in several places, and cotton ticking was sticking out. For headgear Deets wore an old cavalry cap he had found somewhere—it was in nearly as bad shape as Lippy’s bowler.

“Didn’t he have that cap when I left?” Jake asked. He took his own hat off and slapped the dust off his pants leg with it.

He had curly black hair, but Newt saw to his surprise that there was a sizable bald spot on the top of his head.

“He found that cap in the fifties, to the best of my recollection,” Augustus said. “You know Deets is like me—he’s not one to quit on a garment just because it’s got a little age. We can’t all be fine dressers like you, Jake.” Jake turned his coffee eyes on Augustus and broke out another slow grin. “What’d it take to get you to whip up another batch of them biscuits?” he said. “I’ve come all the way from Arkansas without tasting a good bite of bread.” “From the looks of that pony it’s been fast traveling,” Call said, which was as close to prying as he intended to get. He had run with Jake Spoon off and on for twenty years, and liked him well; but the man had always worried him a little, underneath. There was no more likable man in the west, and no better rider, either; but riding wasn’t everything, and neither was likableness. Something in Jake didn’t quite stick. Something wasn’t quite consistent. He could be the coolest man in the company in one fight, and in the next be practically worthless.

Augustus knew it too. He was a great sponsor of Jake’s and had stayed fond of him although for years they were rivals for Clara Allen, who eventually showed them both the door. But Augustus felt, with Call, that Jake wasn’t long on backbone.

When he left the Rangers Augustus said more than once that he would probably end up hung. So far that hadn’t happened, but riding up at breakfast time on a gant horse was an indication of trouble. Jake prided himself on pretty horses, and would never ride a horse as hard as the bay had been ridden if trouble wasn’t somewhere behind him.

Jake saw Bolivar coming from the old cistern with a bucketful of water. Bolivar was a new face, and one that had no interest in his homecoming. A little cool water sloshed over the edges of the bucket, looking very good to a man with a mouth as dusty as Jake’s.

“Boys, I’d like a drink and maybe even a wash, if you can spare one,” he said. “My luck’s been running kinda muddy lately, but I’d like to get water enough in me that I can at least spit before I tell you about it.” “Why, sure,” Augustus said. “Go fill the dipper. You want us to stay out here and hold off the posses?” “There ain’t no posses,” Jake said, going in the house.

Dish Boggett felt somewhat at a loss. He had been all ready to hire on, and then this new man rode up and everyone hadsort of forgotten him. Captain Call, a man known for being all business, seemed a little distracted. He and Gus just stood there as if they expected a posse despite what Jake Spoon had said.

Newt noticed it too. Mr. Gus ought to go in and cook Jake some biscuits, but he just stood there, thinking about something, evidently. Deets was on his way back from the lots.

Dish finally spoke up. “Captain, like I said, I’d be glad to wait if you have some plans to make up a herd,” he said.

The Captain looked at him strangely, as if he might have forgotten his name, much less what he was doing there. But it wasn’t the case.

“Why, yes, Dish,” he said. “We might be needing some hands, if you don’t mind doing some well-digging while you wait.

Pea, you best get these boys started.” Dish was almost ready to back out then and there. He had drawn top wages for the last two years without being asked to do anything that couldn’t be done from a horse. It was insensitive of the Captain to think that he could just order him off, with a boy and an old idiot like Pea Eye, to wrestle a spade and crowbar all day. It scratched his pride, and he had a notion to go get his horse and let them keep their well-digging. But the Captain was looking at him hard, and when Dish looked up to say he had changed his mind, their eyes met and Dish didn’t say it. There had been no real promises made, much less talk of wages, but somehow Dish had taken one step too far. The Captain was looking at him eye to eye, as if to see if he was going to stand by his own words or if he . meant to wiggle like a fish and change his mind. Dish had only offered to stay because of Lorie, but suddenly it had all gotten beyond her. Pea and Newt were already walking toward the barn. It was clear from the Captain’s attitude that unless he wanted to lose all reputation, he had trapped himself into at least one day’s well-digging.

It seemed to him he ought to at least say something to salvage a little pride, but before he could think of anything Gus came over and clapped him on the shoulder.

“You should have rode on last night, Dish,” he said with an irritating grin. “You may never see the last of this outfit now.” “Well, you was the one that invited me,” Dish said, highly annoyed. Since there was no help for it short of disgrace, he started for the lots.

“If you come to Chiny you can stop digging,” Augustus called after him. “That’s the place where the men wear pigtails.” “I wouldn’t ride him if I were you,” Call said. “We may need him.” “I didn’t send him off to dig no well,” Augustus said. “Don’t you know that’s an insult to his dignity? I’m surprised he went. I thought Dish had more grit.” “He said he’d stay,” Call said. “I ain’t feeding him three times a day to sit around and play cards with you.” “No need to now,” Augustus said. “I got fake for that. I bet you don’t get Jake down in your well.” At that moment Jake stepped out on the back porch, his sleeves rolled up and his face red from the scrubbing he had given it with the old piece of sacking they used for a towel.

“That old pistolero’s been cleaning his gun on this towel,” Jake said. “It’s filthy dirty.” “If it’s just his six-shooter he’s cleaning on it you oughtn’t to complain,” Augustus said. “There’s worse things he could wipe on it.” “Hell, don’t you men ever wash?” Jake asked. “That old Mex didn’t even want to give me a pan of water.” It was the kind of remark Call had no patience with, but that was Jake, more interested in fancy arrangements than in the more important matters.

“Once you left, our standards slipped,” Augustus said. “The majority of this outfit ain’t interested in refinements.” “That’s plain,” Jake said. “There’s a damn pig on the back porch. What about them biscuits?” “Much as I’ve missed you, I ain’t overworking my sourdough just because you and Deets couldn’t manage to get here in time,” Augustus said. “What I will do is fry some meat.” He fried it, and Jake and Deets ate it, while Bolivar sat in the corner and sulked at the thought of two more breakfasts to wash up after. It amused Augustus to watch Jake eat—he was so fastidious about it—but the sight put Call into a black fidget. Jake could spend twenty minutes picking at some eggs and a bit of bacon. It was obvious to Augustus that Call was trying to be polite and let Jake get some food in his belly before he told his story, but Call was not a patient man and had already controlled his urge to get to work longer than was usual. He stood in the door, watching the whitening sky and looking restless enough to bite himself.

“So where have you been, Jake?” Augustus asked, to speed things up.

Jake looked thoughtful, as he almost always did. His coffee-colored eyes always seemed to be traveling leisurely overscenes from his own past, and they gave the impression that he was a man of sorrows—an impression very appealing to the ladies. It disgusted Augustus a little that ladies were so taken in by Jake’s big eyes. In fact, Jake Spoon had had a perfectly easy life, doing mostly just what he pleased and keeping his boots clean; what his big eyes concealed was a slow-working brain. Basically Jake just dreamed his way through life and somehow got by with it.

“Oh, I’ve been seeing the country,” he said. “I was up to Montana two years ago. I guess that’s what made me decide to come back, although I’ve been meaning to get back down this way and see you boys for some years.” Call came back in the room and straddled a chair, figuring he might as well hear it.