Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“I’d like to help,” July said.

“You don’t look that vigorous,” she said.

“I’m not sick,” July said. “I must have slept too hard.” “I expect you did something too hard,” she said. “Stay and make conversation with these girls. That’s harder work than gelding horses.” July liked the girls, though he had not said much to them. They seemed fine girls to him, always chattering. Mostly they fought over who got to tend the baby.

Clara and Cholo left and July slowly ate his breakfast, feeling guilty. Then he remembered what had happened—Ellie was gone, into Indian country. He had to go after her as soon as he ate. The baby, still on the table, gurgled at him. July had scarcely looked at it, though it seemed a good baby. Clara wanted it, the girls fought over it, and yet Ellie had left it.

Thinking about it made him more confused.

After breakfast he got his rifle, but instead of leaving, he walked down to the lots. Every now and then he heard the squeal of a young horse. Walking, he didn’t feel quite so weak, and it occurred to him that he ought to try and be some help—he could start after Ellie later.

It was hot, and the young horses were kicking up dust in the lots. To his surprise, he saw that Clara was doing the cutting, while the old man held the ropes. It was hard work—the horses were strong, and they badly needed another man. July quickly climbed into the lots and helped the old man anchor the hind legs of a quivering young bay.

Clara paused a moment, wiping the sweat off her forehead with her shirttail. Her hands were bloody.

“Shouldn’t one of us do it?” July asked.

“No,” Cholo said. “She is better.” “Bob taught me,” Clara said. “We didn’t have any help when we first came here. I wasn’t strong enough to hold the horses so I got stuck with the messier job.” They gelded fifteen young horses and left them in the pen where they could be watched. July had stopped feeling weak, but even so it was a wonder to him how hard Clara and the old man worked. They didn’t stop to rest until the job was done, by which time they were all soaked with sweat. Clara splashed water out of the horse trough to wash her hands and forearms, and immediately started for the house.

“I hope those worthless girls have been cooking,” she said. “I’ve built an appetite.” “Do you know anything about the Indian situation?” July asked.

“I know Red Cloud,” Clara said. “Bob was good to him. They lived on our horses that hard winter we had four years ago—they couldn’t find buffalo.” “I’ve heard they’re dangerous,” July said.

“Yes,” Clara said. “Red Cloud’s fed up. Bob treated them fair and we’ve never had to fear them. I was more scared as a girl. The Comanches would come right into Austin and take children. I always dreamed they’d get me and I’d have red babies.” July had never felt so irresolute. He ought to go, and yet he didn’t. Though he had worked hard, he had little appetite, andafter the meal spent more time cleaning his gun than was really necessary.

When he finished, he sat the rifle against the porch railing, telling himself that he would get up and leave. But before he could get up, Clara walked out on the porch with no warning at all and put the baby into his hands. She practically dropped the child into his lap, an act July felt was very reckless. He had to catch him.

“That’s a good sign,” Clara said. “At least you’d catch him if somebody threw him off a roof.” The baby stared at July with wide eyes, as surprised, evidently, as he was. July looked at Clara, who seemed angry.

“I think it’s time you took a look at him,” she said. “He’s your boy. He might come to like you, in which case he’ll bring you more happiness than that woman ever will. He needs you a sight more than she does, too.” July felt scared he would do something wrong with the baby. He also was a little scared of Clara.

“I don’t know anything about babies,” he said.

“No, and you’ve never lived any place but Arkansas,” Clara said. “But you ain’t stupid and you ain’t nailed down. You can live other places and you can learn about children—people dumber than you learn about them.” Again, July felt belabored by the tireless thing in Clara. Ellie might not look at him, but she didn’t pursue him relentlessly with words, as Clara did.

“Stay here,” she said. “Do you hear me? Stay here! Martin needs a pa and I could use a good hand. If you go trailing after that woman, either the Indians will kill you or that buffalo hunter will, or you’ll just get lost and starve. It’s a miracle you made it this far. You don’t know the plains and I don’t believe you know your wife, either. How long did you know her before you married?” July tried to remember. The trial in Missouri had lasted three days, but he had met Ellie nearly a week before that.

“Two weeks, I guess,” he said.

“That’s short acquaintance,” Clara said. “The smartest man alive can’t learn much about a woman in two weeks.” “Well, she wanted to marry,” July said. It was all he could remember about it. Ellie had made it clear she wanted to marry.

“That could have been another way of saying she wanted a change of scene,” Clara said. “People get a hankering to quit what they’re doing. They think they want to try something else. I do it myself. Half the time I think I’d like to pack up these girls and go live with my aunt in Richmond, Virginia.” “What would you do there?” July asked.

“I might write books,” Clara said. “I’ve a hankering to try it. But then it’ll come a pretty morning and I see the horses grazing and think how I’d miss them. So I doubt I’ll get off to Richmond.” Just then the baby began to cry, squirming in his hands. July looked at Clara, but she made no effort to take the baby. July didn’t know what to do. He was afraid he might drop the child, who twisted in his hands like a rabbit and yelled so loud he turned red as a beet.

“Is he sick?” July asked.

“No, he’s fine,” Clara said. “Maybe he’s telling you off for ignoring him all this time. I wouldn’t blame him.” With that she turned and went back in the house, leaving him with the baby, who at once began to cry even harder. July hoped one of the girls would come out and help, but neither seemed to be around. It seemed very irresponsible of Clara to simply leave him with the child. He felt again that she was not a very helpful woman. But then Ellie hadn’t been helpful, either.