Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Then, with a wide grin, Deets held up the needle. The tiny yellow tip of the thorn was on it. “Now you be cuttin’ the cards agin,” he said.

Jake looked relieved, though still flushed with fever.

“I’ll play you right now, Deets,” he said. “You’re the only one in the whole dern outfit with any money.” The black man just grinned and returned the needle to the little packet in his saddlebag. Then he accepted the cup of coffee which Lorie offered.

“Miss, you oughta get him on across the river,” he said, when he handed back the coffee cup.

“Why?” Lorena asked. “We done made camp. He’ll want to rest.” “Rest on the other side,” Deets said. “Gonna come a storm tonight. The river be up tomorrow.” It seemed hard to believe. There was not a cloud in the sky. But the man had spoken in a tone that indicated he knew what he was talking about.

The girl looked sad, Deets thought. He glanced at the sun, which was dropping.

“I can help,” he said. “I’ll get you settled.” The black man had them packed in no time, tying their bedrolls high so as to keep them out of the river.

“Dern, we didn’t use this camp much,” Jake said, when he realized they were moving. But when Deets mentioned the storm, he simply mounted and rode into the river. He was soon across.

It was a good thing Deets had offered to help. Lorena’s mare balked and wouldn’t take the water. She would go in chest- deep and then whirl and climb back up the bank, showing the whites of her eyes and trying to run. Despite herself, Lorena felt her fear rising. Once, already, the mare had nearly fallen. She might really fall, trapping Lorena beneath the green water. She tried to control her fear—she would have to get across many rivers if she was to get to San Francisco—but the mare kept flouncing and trying to turn and Lorena couldn’t help being afraid. She could see Jake on the other bank. He didn’t look very concerned.

The third time the mare turned, the black man was suddenly beside her. “Let me have her,” he said.

When he took the reins Lorena felt a deeper fright than she had ever known. She gripped the horse’s mane so tightly the horsehairs cut into her hands. Then she shut her eyes—she couldn’t bear to see the water coming over her. The mare took a leap, and there was a different feeling. They were swimming. She heard the black man’s voice talking soothingly to the mare. The water lapped at her waist, but it came no higher; after a moment she opened her eyes. They were nearly across the river. The black man was looking back watchfully, lifting her reins a bit so as to keep the horse’s head out of the water. Then there was the suck of the water against her legs as they started to climb out of the river. With a smile, the black man handed her back her wet reins. She was gripping the mane so tightly it took an act of will to turn her hands loose.

“Why, she’s a fine swimmer,” Deets said. “You be fine on this horse, Miss.” Lorena had clenched her teeth so tightly she couldn’t even speak to thank the man, though she felt a flush of gratitude.

Had it not been for him she felt sure she would have drowned. Jake by this time had untied his bedroll and thrown it down under a big mesquite. It had been nothing to him, her having to cross the river. Though the fright had begun to relax its grip, Lorena still didn’t feel that she had control of her limbs so that she could simply step off the horse and walk as she had always walked. She felt angry at Jake for taking it all so lightly.

Deets smiled at Lorena tolerantly and turned his own horse back toward the river.

“Make your fire and do your cooking now,” he said. “Then blow out the fire. It’s gonna come a bad wind. If the fire gets loose you might have trouble.”He glanced south, at the sky.

“The wind’s gonna come about sundown,” he said. “First it will be sand and then lightning. Don’t tie the horses to no big trees.” Despite herself, Lorena felt her spirits sinking. She had always feared lightning above all things, and here she was without even a house to hide in. She saw it was going to be harder than she had imagined. Here it was only the second day and she had already had a fright like death. Now lightning was coming. For a moment it all felt hopeless—better she had just sat in the Dry Bean for life, or married Xavier. She had gone over to Jake in a minute, and yet, the truth was Xavier would probably have taken care of her better. It was all foolish, her dream of San Francisco.

She looked again at the black man, meaning to try and thank him for helping her across the river, but he was looking at her kindly, and she didn’t say anything.

“I got to go lead the Captain to the crossing,” he said.

Lorena nodded. “Tell Gus hello,” she said.

“I’ll tell him,” Deets said, and rode into the Nueces for the third time.

“WELL, HERE’S WHERE we all find out if we was meant to be cowboys,” Augustus said—for he had no doubt that Deets would soon be proved right about the coming storm. “Too bad it couldn’t wait a day or two until some of you boys had more practice,” he added. “I expect half of you will get trampled before the night is over, leaving me no way to collect my just debts.” “We have to expect it,” Call said. “It’s the stormy time of the year.” Still, a sandstorm at night, with a herd that wasn’t trail-broken and a green crew of men, was not going to be anything to look forward to.

“You reckon we could make it across the river before it hits?” he asked, but Deets shook his head. They were several miles from the Nueces and the sun was low.

“It’s a steep crossing,” Deets said. “You don’t want to hit it in the dark.” Newt had just come off the drags for a drink of water, and the first thing he heard was talk of sandstorm. It didn’t seem to him that it would make much difference; his world was mostly sand anyway. He had to rinse his mouth five or six times before he could even eat a plate of beans without swallowing grit with them.

Call felt uncertain. He had never had to plan for a storm in brushy country, with a fresh herd of cattle. There were so many factors to consider that he felt passive for a moment—an old feeling he knew well from his years of rangering.

Often, in a tight situation, his mind would seem to grow tired from so much hard thinking. He would sink for a time into a blankness, only to come out of it in the midst of an action he had not planned. He was never conscious of the trigger that set him back in motion, but something always pulled it, and he would find himself moving before he was conscious that it was time to move.