Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Newt was too tired to be afraid of anything. He had not adjusted to night herding. While his horse was watering, Mr. Gus rode up beside him. The clouds had broken to the west.

“I wish the sun would come out and fry these skeeters,” Augustus said.

The wagon was slowly approaching the crossing, Bolivar driving and Lippy riding in the back. Behind came the horse herd and the Spettle boys.

It was strange, Newt thought, that one river could be so peaceful and another suddenly boil up with snakes and kill Sean.

Several times, mostly at night, he had imagined Sean was still alive. Being so sleepy made it harder to keep from mixing dreams with what was actually happening. He even had conversations with the other hands that seemed like they were conversations in dreams. He had never known the sadness of losing a friend, and had begun to consider what a long way they had to go.

“I hope don’t nobody else get killed,” he said.

“Well, it’s hard to calculate the odds in this kind of a situation,” Augustus said. “We may not have another bad injury the whole way. On the other hand, half of us may get wiped out. If we have much bad luck I doubt I’ll make it myself.” “Why?” Newt asked, startled to hear him say such a thing.

“Because I ain’t spry like I used to be,” Augustus said. “Used to be I was quick to duck any kind of trouble. I could roll off a horse quicker than a man can blink. I’m still faster than some folks, but I ain’t as fast as I was.” The wagon made the crossing easily, and the two blue pigs, who had been ambling along behind it, walked in and swam the San Antonio river.

“Look at them,” Augustus said happily. “Ain’t they swimmers?”AS THE DAYS PASSED, Lorena found she liked the traveling more and more. The nights were no easier—almost every night the lightning flickered and thunderstorms rolled over them. Often, while she and Jake slept, big drops of rain would hit them in the face and force them to grab for the tarp. Soon the blankets seemed permanently damp, causing Jake to grumble and complain. But the tarp was hot and stiff, and he himself never thought to keep it handy. She would have to stumble around and arrange it in the dark, while Jake cussed the weather.

But no matter how uncomfortable the nights, the sky usually cleared in the morning. She liked to sit on the blankets and feel the sun getting warmer. She watched her arms getting slowly tanned and felt that a life of travel was what she was meant for. Her mare had gotten used to the travel too and no longer looked back toward Lonesome Dove.

Lorena might love the traveling, but it was clear that Jake didn’t. More and more he was inclined to sulk. The fact that she had refused to go into San Antonio festered like the thorn he had had in his hand. Every day he brought it up, but she had said all she intended to say on the subject and just shook her head. Often she traveled all day in silence, thinking her thoughts and ignoring Jake’s complaints.

“Dern you, why can’t you talk?” he said one night as she was making the campfire. Deets, who stopped by their camp almost every day to see that they were all right, had shown her how to make a fire. He had also taught her how to pack the mule and do various other chores that Jake mostly neglected.

“I can talk,” Lorena said.

“Well, you don’t,” Jake said. “I never seen a woman keep so quiet.” He spoke hotly—indeed, had been angry at her most of the trip. He was spoiling for a battle of some kind, but Lorena didn’t want to battle. She had nothing against Jake, but she didn’t feel she had to jump every time he whistled, which seemed to be what he expected. Jake was very fussy, complaining about the way she cooked the bacon or laid out the blankets. She ignored him. If he didn’t like the way she did things, he was free to do them different—but he never did them different. He just fussed at her.

“We could be sleeping in a fine hotel tonight,” he said. “San Antonio ain’t but an hour’s ride.” “Go sleep in one, if you want to,” Lorena said. “I’ll stay in camp.” “I guess you do wish I’d leave,” Jake said. “Then you could whore with the first cowpoke that came along.” That was too silly to answer. She had not whored since the day she met him, unless you counted Gus. She sipped her coffee.

“That’s your game, ain’t it?” Jake said, his eyes hot.

“No,” Lorena said.

“Well, you’re a goddamn liar, then,” Jake said. “Once a whore, always a whore. I won’t stand for it. Next time I’ll take a rope to you.” After he ate his bacon he saddled and rode off without another word—to go gamble, she supposed. Far from being scared, Lorena was relieved. Jake’s angers were light compared to some she had known, but it was no pleasure having him around when he was so hot. Probably he thought to scare her, riding off so quick and leaving her in camp, but she felt no fear at all. The herd and all the boys were only a mile away. No one would be likely to bother her with the cow camp so close.

She sat on her blankets, enjoying the night. It was deep dusk, and birds—bullbats—were whooshing around—she could see them briefly as shadows against the darkening sky. She and Jake had camped in a little clearing. While she was sipping her coffee, a possum walked within ten feet of her, stopped a moment to look at her stupidly, and walked on. After a while she heard faraway singing—the Irishman was singing to the cattle herd. Deets had told them about the terrible death of his brother.

Before she could get to sleep a horse came racing toward the camp. It was only Jake, running in in the hope of scaring her. He raced right into camp, which was irritating because it raised dust that settled in the blankets. He had ridden into town and bought whiskey, and then had rushed back, thinking to catch her with Gus or one of the cowhands. He was jealous every hour of the day.

He yanked his saddle off the horse and passed her the whiskey bottle, which was already half empty.

“I don’t want none,” she said.

“I guess there’s nothing I could ask that you’d do,” Jake said. “I wish that dern Gus would show up. At least we could have a card game.” Lorena lay back on her blanket and didn’t answer. Anything she said would only make him worse.

Watching her lie there, calm and silent, Jake felt hopeless and took another long drink from the whiskey bottle. Heconsidered himself a smart man, and yet he had got himself in a position that would have embarrassed a fool. He had no business traveling north with a woman like Lorie, who had her own mind and wouldn’t obey the simplest order unless it happened to suit her. The more he drank, the sorrier he felt for himself. He wished he had just told Lorie no, and left her to sweat it out in Lonesome Dove. Then at least he could be in camp with the men, where there were card games to be had, not to mention protection. Despite himself, he could not stop worrying about July Johnson.

Then he remembered Elmira, whom he had sported with a few times in Kansas. What a trick on July to have married a whore and not know it.