Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“I’ve seen boys linger for days,” Pea Eye said quietly—he had always thought it impolite to talk about a man’s death within his hearing. Gus’s joke had shocked him a little.

“But then sometimes they just go,” he added. “Go when they’re ready, or even if they ain’t. This man’s lost so much blood he might go over pretty soon.” Call and Augustus knew there was nothing to do but wait, so they sat beside Wilbarger’s pallet, saying little. Two hours passed with no sound but Wilbarger’s faint breathing.

Then, to Call’s surprise, Wilbarger’s hand reached out and clutched him for a moment.

“Let’s shake, for the favors you’ve done me,” Wilbarger said weakly. When Call had given him a handshake, Wilbarger reached for Augustus, who shook his hand in turn.

“McCrae, I’ll give you credit for having written a damn amusing sign,” he said. “I’ve laughed about that sign many a time, and laughing’s a pleasure. I’ve got two good books in my saddlebags. One’s Mister Milton and the other’s a Virgil. I want you to have them. The Virgil might improve your Latin.” “I admit it’s rusty,” Augustus said. “I’ll apply myself, and many thanks.” “To tell the truth, I can’t read it either,” Wilbarger said. “I could once, but I lost it. I just like to look at it on the page. It reminds me of the Hudson, and my schooling and all. Now and then I catch a word.” He coughed up a lot of blood and both Call and Augustus thought it was over, but it wasn’t. Wilbarger was still breathing, though faintly. Call went over and told Pea Eye and Newt to start digging the grave—he wanted to get started after the horsethieves as soon as it was light enough to track. Restless, he walked over and helped Deets keep watch.

To Augustus’s surprise, Wilbarger raised his head. He had heard the digging. “Your friend’s efficient, ain’t he?” he said.

“Efficient,” Augustus agreed. “He likes to chase horse-thieves too. Seems like we’re always having to get your horses back, Wilbarger. Where do you want ’em delivered this time?” “Oh, hell, sell ’em,” Wilbarger said, in shaky tones. “I’m done with the cow business, finally. Send the money to my brother, John Wilbarger, Fifty Broadway, New York City.” He coughed again. “Keep the tent,” he said. “How’s the shy young lady?” “She’s improved,” Augustus said.

“I wish we’d met sooner, McCrae,” Wilbarger said. “I enjoy your conversation. I hope you’ll bury my man Chick and that boy that was with us. I wish now I’d never hired that boy.” “We’ll tend to it,” Augustus said.

An hour later, Wilbarger was still breathing. Augustus stepped away for a minute, to relieve himself, and when he came back Wilbarger had rolled off the blanket and was dead. Augustus rolled him on his back and tied him in the blanket. Call was down by the river, smoking and waiting. He looked up when Augustus approached.

“He’s gone,” Augustus said.

“All right,” Call said.

“He said he was traveling with a man and a boy,” Augustus said.

“Let’s go, then,” Call said, standing up. “We won’t have to backtrack him, we can just look for the buzzards.” Augustus was troubled by the fact that he could find nothing with which to mark Wilbarger’s grave—the plains and the riverbank were bare. He gave up and came to the grave just as Pea Eye and Deets were covering the man with dirt.

“If he had a family and they cared to look, they’d never find him,” Augustus said.

“Well, I can’t help it,” Call said.

“I know something,” Deets said, and to everyone’s surprise mounted and loped off. A few minutes later he came loping back, with the skull of a cow buffalo. “I seen the bones,” he said.“It’s better than nothing,” Augustus said as he sat the skull on the grave. Of course, it wasn’t much better than nothing—a coyote would probably just come along and drag the skull off, and Wilbarger too.

Deets had found Wilbarger’s rifle, and offered it to Augustus.

“Give it to Newt,” Augustus said. “I got a rifle.” Newt took the gun. He had always wanted a rifle, but at the moment he couldn’t feel excited. It was such a strain, people always dying. He had a headache, and wanted to cry or be sick or go to sleep—he didn’t know which. It was such a strain that he almost wished he had been left with the wagon, although being selected to go had been his greatest pride only a few hours before.

Augustus, riding beside him, noticed the boy’s downcast look. “Feeling poorly?” he asked.

Newt didn’t know what to say. He was surprised that Mr. Gus had even noticed him.

“You’ve been on too many burying parties,” Augustus said. “Old Wilbarger had a sense of humor. He’d laugh right out loud if he knew he had the skull of a buffalo cow for a grave marker. Probably the only man who ever went to Yale College who was buried under a buffalo skull.” How he died hadn’t been funny, Newt thought.

“It’s all right, though,” Augustus said. “It’s mostly bones we’re riding over, anyway. Why, think of all the buffalo that have died on these plains. Buffalo and other critters too. And the Indians have been here forever; their bones are down there in the earth. I’m told that over in the Old Country you can’t dig six feet without uncovering skulls and leg bones and such.

People have been living there since the beginning, and their bones have kinda filled up the ground. It’s interesting to think about, all the bones in the ground. But it’s just fellow creatures, it’s nothing to shy from.” It was such a startling thought—that under him, beneath the long grass, were millions of bones—that Newt stopped feeling so strained. He rode beside Mr. Gus, thinking about it, the rest of the night.

AS SOON AS HE HAD the herd well settled, Dish decided to see if there was anything he could do for Lorena. It had been months since the afternoon in Lonesome Dove when he had got so drunk, and in all that time he had not even spoken to her. He was out of practice—in fact, had never been in practice, though that was not his fault. He would cheerfully have talked to Lorena all day and all night, but she didn’t want it and they had never exchanged more than a few words. His heart was beating hard, and he felt more fearful than if he were about to swim a swift river, as he approached her tent.

Gus had set up the tent before he left, but it was supper time, so Dish got a plate of beef for Lorena’s supper. He took his responsibilities so seriously that he had tried to pick out the best piece, in the process holding up the line and irritating the crew, none of whom were the least impressed with his responsibilities.