Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Augustus stood up. “Let’s go for a stroll,” he said. “This man don’t like folks idling in his kitchen after a certain hour.” They walked out into the hot morning. The sky was already white. Bolivar followed them out, picking up a rawhide lariat that he kept on a pile of firewood back by the porch. They watched him walk off into the chaparral, the rope in his hand.

“That old pistolero ain’t very polite,” Jake said. “Where’s he going with that rope?” “I didn’t ask him,” Gus said. He went around to the springhouse, which was empty of rattlesnakes for once. It amused him to think how annoyed Call would be when he came up at noon and found them both drunk. He handed Jake the jug, since he was the guest. Jake uncorked it and took a modest swig.

“Now if we had some shade to drink this in, we’d be in good shape,” Jake said. “I don’t suppose there’s a sporting woman in this town, is there?” “You are a scamp,” Augustus said, taking the jug. “Are you so rich that’s all you can think about?” “I can think about it, rich or poor,” Jake said.

They squatted in the shade of the springhouse for a bit, their backs against the adobe, which was still cool on the side the sun hadn’t struck. Augustus saw no need to mention Lorena, since he knew Jake would soon discover her for himself and probably have her in love with him within the week. The thought of Dish Boggett’s bad timing made him smile, for it was certain Jake’s return would doom whatever chance Dish might have had. Dish had committed himself to a day of well- digging for nothing, for when it came to getting women in love with him Jake Spoon had no equal. His big eyes convinced them he’d be lost without them, and none of them seemed to want him just to go on and be lost.

While they were squatting by the springhouse, the pigs came nosing around the house looking for something to eat. But there wasn’t so much as a grasshopper in the yard. They stopped and looked at Augustus a minute.

“Get on down to the saloon,” he said. “Maybe you’ll find Lippy’s hat.” “Folks that keep pigs ain’t no better than farmers,” Jake said. “I’m surprised at you and Call. If you gave up being lawmen I thought you’d at least stay cattlemen.” “I thought you’d own a railroad by now, for that matter,” Augustus said. “Or a whorehouse, at least. I guess life’s been a disappointment to us both.” “I may not have no fortune, but I’ve never said a word to a pig, either,” Jake said. Now that he was home and back with friends, he was beginning to feel sleepy. After a few more swigs and a little more argument, he stretched out as close to the springhouse as he could get, so as to have shade for as long as possible. He raised up an elbow to have one more go at the jug.
“去酒吧吧，”他说。“也许你会找到李皮的帽子。”“养猪的人并不比农民好，”杰克说。奥古斯都说：“我对你和卡尔感到惊讶。如果你放弃当律师，我想你至少会留下来当牧场主。”“我想你现在应该拥有一条铁路了。”。“或者至少是一个妓院。我想生活对我们俩来说都很失望。”杰克说：“我可能不是没有财富，但我也从来没有对猪说过一句话。”。现在他已经回家和朋友们在一起了，他开始感到昏昏欲睡。又喝了几口，又争论了一会儿，他尽可能地靠近弹簧屋，以便尽可能长时间地有阴凉。他举起一只胳膊肘，想再去拿一次罐子。

“How come Call lets you sit around and guzzle this mash all day?” he asked.
他问道：“为什么Call让你整天坐在那里狂饮这种土豆泥？”。

“Call ain’t never been my boss,” Augustus said. “It’s no say-so of his when I drink.” Jake looked off across the scrubby pastures. There were tufts of grass here and there, but mostly the ground looked hard as flint. Heat waves were rising off it like fumes off kerosene. Something moved in his line of vision, and for a moment he thought he saw some strange brown animal under a chaparral bush. Looking more closely he saw that it was the old Mexican’s bare backside.“Hell, why’d he take a rope if all he meant to do was shit?” he asked. “Where’d you get the greasy old bastard?” “We’re running a charitable home for retired criminals,” Augustus said. “If you’d just retire you’d qualify.” “Dern, I forgot how ugly this country is,” Jake said. “I guess if there was a market for snake meat, this would be the place to get rich.” With that he put his hat over his face, and within no more than two minutes began a gentle snoring. Augustus returned the jug to the springhouse. It occurred to him that while Jake was napping he might pay a visit to Lorie; once she fell under Jake’s spell he would probably require her to suspend professional activities for a while.

Augustus viewed this prospect philosophically; it was his experience that a man’s dealings with women were invariably prone to interruptions, often of a more lasting nature than Jake Spoon was apt to prompt.

He left Jake sleeping and strolled down the middle of Hat Creek. As he passed the corrals, he saw Dish straining at the windlass to bring a big bucket of dirt out of the new well. Call was in the lot, working with the Hell Bitch. He had her snubbed to a post and was fanning her with a saddle blanket. Dish was as wet with sweat as if he’d just crawled out of a horse trough. He’d sweated through the hatband of his hat, and had even sweated through his belt.

“Dish, you’re plumb wet,” Augustus said. “If there was a well there, I’d figure you fell in it.” “If folks could drink sweat you wouldn’t need no well,” Dish said. It seemed to Augustus that his tone was a shade unfriendly.

“Look at it this way, Dish,” Augustus said. “You’re storing up manna in heaven, working like this.” “Heaven be damned,” Dish said.

Augustus smiled. “Why, the Bible just asks for the sweat of your brow,” he said. “You’re even sweating from the belt buckle, Dish. That ought to put you in good with the Seraphim.” The reference was lost on Dish, who bitterly regretted his foolishness in allowing himself to be drawn into such undignified work. Augustus stood there grinning at him as if the sight of a man sweating was the most amusing thing in the world.

“I ought to kick you down this hole,” Dish said. “If you hadn’t loaned me that money I’d be halfway to the Matagorda by now.” Augustus walked over to the fence to watch Call work the mare. He was about to throw the saddle on her. He had her snubbed close, but she still had her eye turned so she could watch him in case he got careless.

“You ought to blindfold her,” Augustus said. “I thought you knowed that much.” “I don’t want her blindfolded,” Call said.

“If she was blindfolded she might bite the post next time instead of you,” Augustus said.

Call got her to accept the blanket and picked up his saddle. Snubbed as she was, she couldn’t bite him, but her hind legs weren’t snubbed. He kept close to her shoulder as he prepared to ease on the saddle. The mare let go with her near hind foot. It didn’t get him but it got the saddle and nearly knocked it out of his hand. He kept close to her shoulder and got the saddle in position again.

“Remember that horse that bit off all that old boy’s toes—all the ones on the left foot, I mean?” Augustus said. “That old boy’s name was Harwell. He went to the war and got killed at Vicksburg. He never was much of a hand after he lost his toes. Of course, the horse that bit ’em off had a head the size of a punkin. I don’t suppose a little mare like that could take off five toes in one bite.” Call eased the saddle on her, and the minute the stirrups slapped against her belly the mare went as high as she could get, and the saddle flew off and landed twenty feet away. Augustus got a big laugh out of it. Call went to the barn and returned with a short rawhide rope.

“If you want help just ask me,” Augustus said.

“I don’t,” Call said. “Not from you.” “Call, you ain’t never learned,” Augustus said. “There’s plenty of gentle horses in this world. Why would a man with your responsibilities want to waste time with a filly that’s got to be hobbled and blindfolded before you can even keep a saddle on her?” Call ignored him. In a moment the mare tentatively lifted the near hind foot with the thought of kicking whatever might be in range. When she did he caught the foot with the rawhide rope and took a hitch around the snubbing post. It left the mare standing on three legs, so she could not kick again without throwing herself. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, trembling a little with indignation, but she accepted the saddle.“Why don’t you trade her to Jake?” Augustus said. “If they don’t hang him, maybe he could teach her to pace.” Call left the mare saddled, snubbed, and on three legs, and came to the fence to have a smoke and let the mare have a moment to consider the situation.

“Where’s Jake?” he asked.

“Catching a nap,” Augustus said. “I reckon the anxiety wore him out.” “He ain’t changed a bit,” Call said. “Not a dern bit.” Augustus laughed. “You’re one to talk,” he said. “When’s the last time you changed? It must have been before we met, and that was thirty years ago.” “Look at her watch us,” Call said. The mare was watching them—even had her ears pointed at them.

“I wouldn’t take it as no compliment,” Augustus said. “She ain’t watching you because she loves you.” “Say what you will,” Call said, “I never seen a more intelligent filly.” Augustus laughed again. “Oh, that’s what you look for, is it? Intelligence,” he said. “You and me’s got opposite ideas about things. It’s intelligent creatures you got to watch out for. I don’t care if they’re horses or women or Indians or what.

I learned long ago there’s much to be said for dumbness. A dumb horse may step in a hole once in a while, but at least you can turn your back on one without losing a patch of hide.” “I’d rather my horses didn’t step in no holes,” Call said. “You reckon somebody’s really on Jake’s trail?” “Hard to judge,” Augustus said. “Jake was always nervous. He’s seen more Indians that turned out to be sage bushes than any man I know.” “A dead dentist ain’t a sage bush,” Call said.

“No—in that case it’s the sheriff that’s the unknown factor,” Gus said. “Maybe he didn’t like his brother. Maybe some outlaw will shoot him before he can come after Jake. Maybe he’ll get lost and end up in Washington, D.C. Or maybe he’ll show up tomorrow and whip us all. I wouldn’t lay money.” They fell silent for a moment, the only sound the grinding of the windlass as Dish drew up another bucket of dirt.