Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

When the men were hung, twisting at the end of the ropes, Dan Suggs stood back to study the effect, and evidently didn’t like it. His brothers were watching him nervously—it was plain from his face that he was still in an angry mood.

“These goddamn sodbusters,” he said. “I hate their guts and livers.” “Well, that’s fine, Dan,” Roy said. “They’re dead enough.” “No, they ain’t,” Dan said. “A goddamn sodbuster can never be dead enough to suit me.” With that he went over and got the can of coal oil he had used to start the fire. He began to splash it on the hanged men’s clothes.

“What’s that for?” little Eddie asked. “You’ve already shot ’em and hung ’em.” “Yes, and now I intend to burn them,” Dan said. “Any objections from you schoolteachers?” He looked at all three of them, challenge in his angry eyes. No one said a word. Jake felt sickened by what was happening, but he didn’t try and stop it. Dan Suggs was crazy, there was no doubt of that, but his craziness didn’t affect his aim. The only way to stop him would be to kill him, a risky business in broad daylight.

Little Eddie giggled his nervous giggle again as he watched his brother set the dead men’s clothes on fire. Even with the coal oil it wasn’t easy—Dan had to splash them several times before he got their clothes wet enough to blaze. But finally he did, and the clothes flared up. It was a terrible sight. Jake thought he wouldn’t look, but despite himself he did. The men’s sweaty clothes were burned right off them, and their scraggly beards seared. A few rags of clothes fell off beneath their feet. The men’s pants burned off, leaving their belts and a few shreds of cloth around their waists.

“Dan, you beat all,” little Eddie repeated several times. He giggled often—he was unnerved. Roy Suggs methodically tore the tent apart and poked through all the men’s meager belongings, hoping to find valuables.

“They didn’t have nothing,” he said. “I don’t know why you even bothered to kill them.” “It was their unlucky day, same as it was Frog’s,” Dan said. “We’ll miss Frog, the man could shoot. I wish I had that damn Wilbarger here, I’d cook him good.” After drinking some more coffee, Dan Suggs mounted up. The two farmers, the trunks of their bodies blackened, still hung from the tree.“Don’t you intend to bury them?” Jake asked. “Somebody’s gonna find them, you know, and it could be the law.” Dan Suggs just laughed. “I’d like to see the law that could take me,” he said. “No man in Kansas could manage it, and anyway I fancy seeing Nebraska.” He turned to his brothers, who were dispiritedly raking through the settlers’ clothes, still hoping to find something worth taking.

“Get them mules, boys,” Dan said. “No sense in leaving good mules.” With that he rode off.

“He’s bloody today,” Roy said, going over to the mules. “If we run into any more sodbusters, it’s too bad for them.” Jake’s happy mood was gone, though the day was as sunny as ever. It was clear to him that his only hope was to escape the Suggses as soon as possible. Dan Suggs could wake up feeling bloody any day, and the next time there might be no sodbusters around to absorb his fury, in which case things could turn really grim. He trotted along all day, well back from the horse herd, trying to forget the two blackened bodies, whose shoes had still been smoldering when they left.

DEETS FOUND WILBARGER by backtracking his horse. The horse, with dried blood on the saddle and crusted in its mane, was waiting for them on the north bank of the Arkansas. Several times, as they were bringing the cattle to the crossing, the horse started to swim over to them, but turned back. Deets crossed first, ahead of Old Dog, and recognized the horse even before he hit the bank. It was the big bay Wilbarger had ridden into Lonesome Dove several months before.

He rode up and caught the horse easily—but then, what looked to be a simple cattle crossing turned out to be anything but simple. Dish Boggett’s horse, which had crossed many rivers calmly and easily, took fright in midstream and very nearly drowned Dish. The horse went crazy in the water, and if Dish hadn’t been a strong swimmer, would have pawed him under. Even then it might have happened if Deets had not dashed back into the water and fought the horse off long enough for Dish to get ashore.

The trouble opened a gap in the line of cowboys and some three hundred cattle veered off and began to swim straight downstream. The line of cattle broke, and in no time there were pockets of cattle here and there, swimming down the Arkansas, paying no attention to the riders who tried to turn them. Newt got caught beside such a bunch, and after swimming two hundred yards downstream with them, ended up on the same bank he had started out on.

Eventually the herd split into five or six groups. Augustus came over to help, but there was not much he could do. Most of the cattle went back to the south bank, but quite a few swam far downstream.

“Looks like your herd’s floating away, Woodrow,” Augustus said.

“I know, I’m surprised that it ain’t hailing or shooting lightning bolts at us,” Call said. Though the scattering was annoying, he was not seriously disturbed, for the river was fairly shallow and the banks rather low where they were crossing. It would only take a little more time to restart the cattle that had gone back to the south bank. Fortunately no cattle were bogged, and this time no cowboys drowned.

“Good lord,” Augustus said, as Deets came up leading the bay. “Where’s Mister Wilbarger, that he could afford to let his horse run loose?” “Dead, I fear,” Call said. “Look at the blood on that horse’s mane.” “Hell, I liked Wilbarger,” Augustus said. “I’d be right sorry if he’s dead. I’ll go have a look.” “Who’ll watch the girl while you’re gone?” Call asked.

Augustus stopped. “You’re right,” he said. “It might make her uneasy if I just ride off. Maybe Deets better go have the look.” “It could be Indians, you know,” Call said. “I think you better move her a little closer to the wagon.” Deets didn’t come back until midafternoon, by which time the herd was a few miles north of the Arkansas.

“I doubt cattle has ever et this grass,” Augustus said. “I doubt anyone’s trailed cattle this far west of Dodge. Buffalo is probably all that’s et it.” Call’s mind was on Wilbarger, a resourceful man if ever he had seen one. If such a man had got caught, then there could well be serious trouble waiting for them.

“You’re supposed to be able to smell Indians,” he said to Augustus, “Do you smell any?” “No,” Augustus said. “I just smell a lot of cowshit. I expect my smeller will be ruined forever before this trip is over by smelling so much cowshit.” “It don’t mention buffalo in the Bible,” Augustus remarked.

“Well, why should it?” Call said.

“It might be that a buffalo is a kind of ox, only browner,” Augustus said. “Ox are mentioned in the Bible.” “What got you on the Bible?” Call asked.

“Boredom,” Augustus said. “Religious controversy is better than none.” “If there’s mad Indians around, you may get more controversy than you bargained for,” Call said.

Lorena heard the remark—she was riding behind them. Mention of Indians brought back memories and made her nervous.

Finally they saw Deets, coming along the river from the southeast. It was clear from the dried sweat on his horse that he had ridden hard.

“They didn’t get Deets, whoever they are,” Augustus said.

“I found the man,” Deets said, drawing rein. “He’s shot.” “Dead?” Call asked.“Dying, I ’spect,” Deets said. “I couldn’t move him. He’s hit three times.” “How far away?” “About ten miles,” Deets said. “I got him propped up, but I couldn’t bring him.” “Did he say much?” Augustus asked.