Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

When he got within thirty yards of the house he stopped and squatted behind a bush. The hut had never been more than a lean-to with a few piles of adobe bricks stacked up around it; its walls were so broken and full of holes that it was easy to look in. Newt saw that both the men arguing were short and rather stout. Also, they were unarmed, or appeared to be.

Both had on dirty shirts, and the older of the two men was almost bald. The other one looked young, perhaps no older than himself. They had a bottle, but it evidently didn’t have much left in it, because the older one wouldn’t pass it to the young one.

It was not hard to make out the drift of their conversation either. The subject of the debate was their next meal.

“I say we eat the mule,” the younger man said.

“Nothing of the sort,” the other said.

“Then give me a drink,” the younger said.

“Go away,” the older man said. “You don’t deserve my liquor and you won’t eat my mule. I’m beholden to this mule, and so are you. Didn’t it bring you all this way with no complaint?” “To the desert to die, you mean?” the young one said. “I’m to thank a mule for that?” Newt could just make out a thin mule and a small donkey, tethered at the entrance of the hut, beyond the fire.

“If it comes to it we’ll eat the donkey,” the bald man said. “What can you do with a donkey anyway?” “Train it to sit on its ass and eat sugar cubes,” the young one said. Then he giggled at his own wit.Newt edged a little closer, his fear rapidly diminishing. Men who could engage in such conversation didn’t seem very dangerous. Just as he was relaxing a hand suddenly gripped his shoulder and for a second he nearly fainted with fright, thinking the bowie knife would hit him next. Then he realized it was Deets. Motioning for him to follow, Deets walked right up to the hut. He did not appear to be worried in the least. When they were a few feet from the broken adobe wall, Newt saw Captain Call step into the circle of firelight from the other side.

“You men just hold steady,” he said, in a calm, almost friendly, voice.

It evidently didn’t sound as friendly to the men around the fire.

“Murderers!” the young one yelled. He sprang to his feet and darted past the Captain so fast the Captain didn’t even have time to trip him or hit him with his rifle barrel. For a fat man he moved fast, springing on the back of the mule before the other two could even move. Newt expected the Captain to shoot him or at least step over and knock him off the mule, but to his surprise the Captain just stood and watched, his rifle in the crook of his arm. The boy—for he was no older—pounded the mule desperately with his heels and the mule responded with a short leap and then went crashing down, throwing the boy over its head and almost back to the spot he had left. Looking more closely, Newt saw why the Captain had not bothered to stop the escape: the mule was hobbled.

The sight of a man so addled as to try and get away on a hobbled mule was too much for Deets. He slapped his leg with his big hand and laughed a deep laugh, resting his rifle for a moment on the low adobe wall.

“You see, it’s a poor mule,” the boy said indignantly, springing up. “Its legs won’t work.” Deets laughed even louder, but the baldheaded man sighed and looked at the Captain in a rather jolly way.

“He’s my brother but he ain’t smart,” he said quietly. “The Lord gave him a fine baritone voice and I guess he thought that was enough to do for a poor Irish boy.” “I’m smarter than yourself at least,” the boy said, kicking dirt at his brother. He seemed quite prepared to take the quarrel farther, but his brother merely smiled.

“You must unhobble the mule if you want his legs to work,” he said. “It’s details like that you’re always forgetting, Sean.” The mule had managed to get to its feet and was standing quietly by the Captain.

“Well, I didn’t hobble him,” Sean said. “I was riding the donkey.” The baldheaded man hospitably held the bottle out to the Captain.

“It’s only a swallow,” he said, “but if you’re thirsty, you’re welcome.” “Much obliged, but I’ll pass,” the Captain said. “Do you men know where you are?” “We ain’t in Ireland,” the boy said. “I know that much.” “You wouldn’t have a bag of potatoes about you, sir, would you?” the older said. “We do miss our spuds.” Call motioned for Deets and Newt to join the group. When they did the bald man stood up.

“Since you’ve not bothered to murder us, I’ll introduce myself,” he said. “I’m Allen O’Brien and this is young Sean.” “Are those your only animals?” Call asked. “Just a donkey and a mule?” “We had three mules to start with,” Allen said. “I’m afraid our thirst got the better of us. We traded two mules for a donkey and some liquor.” “And some beans,” Sean said. “Only the beans were ho good. I broke my tooth trying to eat one.” It was Call’s turn to sigh. He had expected vaqueros, and instead had turned up two helpless Irishmen, neither of whom even had an adequate mount. Both the mule and the donkey looked starved.

“How’d you men get here?” he asked.

“That would be a long story,” Allen said. “Are we far from Galveston? That was our destination.” “You overshot it by a wide mark,” Call said. “This hut you’re resting in belongs to a man named Pedro Flores. He ain’t a gentle man, and if he finds you tomorrow I expect he’ll hang you.” “Oh, he will,” Deets agreed. “He’ll be mad tomorrow.” “Fine, we’ll go with you,” Allen said. He courteously offered the bottle to both Deets and Newt, and when they refused drained it with one gulp and flung it into the darkness.

“Now we’re packed,” he said.

“Get the horses,” Call said to Newt, looking at the Irishmen. They were none of his business and he could just ride off and leave them, but the theft he was about to commit would put their lives in considerable danger: Pedro Flores would vent his anger on whatever whites lay to hand.“I’ve no time for a long explanation,” he said. “We’ve got some horses to the south of here. I’ll send a man back with two of them as soon as I can. Be ready—we won’t wait for you.” “You mean leave tonight?” the boy said. “What about sleep?” “Just be ready,” Call said. “We’ll want to move fast when we move, and you’ll never make it on that mule and that jackass.” Newt felt sorry for the two. They seemed friendly. The younger one was holding the sack of dried beans. Newt didn’t feel he could leave without a word about the beans.

“You have to soak them beans,” he said. “Soak them a while and it softens them up.” The Captain was already loping away, and Newt didn’t dare linger any longer.

“There’s no water to soak them in,” Sean said. He was very hungry, and inclined to despair at such times.

Deets was the last to leave. Allen O’Brien walked over, as he was mounting.