Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

杰瑞发布于09 Feb 16:39

Bestselling winner of the 1986 Pulitzer Prize,Lonesome Dove is an American classic c. First publish ed in 1985, Larry McMurtry' epic novel combined flawless writing with a storyline and setting that gripped the popular imagination, and ultimately resulted in a series of four novels and an Emmy-winning television miniseries. 《孤鸽镇》是1986年普利策奖的畅销书得主,是一部美国经典小说。拉里·麦默特里(Larry McMurtry)的史诗小说于1985年首次出版,将完美的写作与吸引大众想象力的故事情节和背景相结合,最终创作了一系列四部小说和一部艾美奖电视迷你剧。

Wilbarger looked enviously at Augustus’s jug. “By God, I bet that ain’t persimmon juice you’re drinking,” he said. “I wish I could afford an easy life.” “If you was to dismount and stop scaring my pigs you’d be welcome to a drink,” Augustus said. “We can introduce ourselves later.” The shoat got up and walked right under the black horse, which was well broke enough that it didn’t move. Wilbarger was more shocked than the horse. In fact, Augustus was shocked himself. The shoat had never done such a thing before, though he had always been an unpredictable shoat.
“I guess that’s one of the pigs you don’t rent,” Wilbarger said. “If I’d been riding my mare she’d have kicked it so far you’d have had to hunt to find your bacon.” “Well, that pig had been asleep,” Augustus said. “I guess it didn’t expect a horse to be standing there when it woke up.” “Which are you, Call or McCrae?” Wilbarger asked, tired of discussing pigs.
“I’m McCrae,” Augustus said. “Call wouldn’t put up with this much jabbering.” “Can’t blame him,” Wilbarger said. “I’m Wilbarger.” At that moment Call stepped out of the house. In fact his bite had pained him all day and he had been in the process of making himself a poultice of cactus pulp. It took a while to make, which is why he had come in early.
As he came out on the porch a small man on a gray came riding around the house.
“Why, hell, you had us surrounded and we didn’t even know it,” Augustus said. “This is Captain Call, standing here with his shirttail out.” “I’m Wilbarger,” Wilbarger said. “This is my man Chick.” “You’re free to get down,” Call said.
“Oh, well,” Wilbarger said, “why get down when I would soon just have to climb back up? It’s unnecessary labor. I hear you men trade horses.” “We do,” Call said. “Cattle too.” “Don’t bother me about cattle,” Wilbarger said. “I got three thousand ready to start up the trail. What I need is a remuda.” “It’s a pity cattle can’t be trained to carry riders,” Augustus said. The thought had just occurred to him, so, following his habit, he put it at once into speech.
Both Call and Wilbarger looked at him as if he were daft.
“You may think it a pity,” Wilbarger said. “I can call it a blessing. I suppose you wrote that sign.” “That’s right,” Augustus said. “Want me to write you one?” “No, I ain’t ready for the sanatorium yet,” Wilbarger said. “I never expected to meet Latin in this part of Texas but I guess education has spread.” “How’d you round up that much stock without horses?” Call asked, hoping to get the conversation back around to business.
“Oh, well, I just trained a bunch of jackrabbits to chase ’em out of the brush,” Wilbarger said, a bit testy.
“In fact some dern Mexicans stole our horses,” he added. “I had heard you men hung all the Mexican horsethieves when you was Rangers, but I guess you missed a few.” “Why, hell, we hung ever one of ’em,” Augustus said, glad to see that their visitor was of an argumentative temper. “It must be the new generation that stole your nags. We ain’t responsible for them.”“This is idle talk,” Wilbarger said. “I happen to be responsible for three thousand cattle and eleven men. If I could buy forty horses, good horses, I’d feel happier. Can you oblige me?” “We expect to have a hundred head available at sunup tomorrow,” Call said. Gus’s talkativeness had one advantage—it often gained him a minute or two in which to formulate plans.
“I had no intention of spending the night here,” Wilbarger said. “Anyway, I don’t need a hundred head, or fifty either.
How many could I get this afternoon?” Augustus dug out his old brass pocket watch and squinted at it.
“Oh, we couldn’t sell horses now,” he said. “We’re closed for the day.” Wilbarger abruptly dismounted and automatically loosened his horse’s girth a notch or two to give him an easier breath.
“I never expected to hear talk like this,” he said. “I never heard of a livery stable closing in bright daylight.” “Oh, the stable don’t close,” Augustus said. “We can stable anything you want us to. It’s just the horse-trading part of the operation that’s closed.” Wilbarger walked up to the porch. “If that jug’s for rent I’ll rent a swig,” he said. “I guess that jug’s about the only thing that’s still open in this town.” “It’s open and it’s free,” Augustus said, handing it to him.
While Wilbarger was drinking, Augustus looked at Call. The remark about the hundred horses had struck him as bold talk, even if they were planning a swing through Mexico. Their main object on recent swings had been cattle. Now and again they ran into a few horses and threw them in with the cattle, but seldom more than ten or twelve in one night. Where the other ninety were to come from Augustus didn’t know.
“Ain’t there a whore in this town?” Chick asked. He was still horseback. The remark took everybody by surprise. Wilbarger seemed quite displeased with it.
“Chick, I thought you had a few manners,” he said. “Talking that kind of talk down at the Jots is one thing. Talking it up here when I’m trying to discuss business with these gentlemen is something else.” “Well, them boys at the lots wouldn’t tell me,” Chick said, with a touch of a whine.
“That’s because they’re God-fearing boys,” Augustus said. “You wouldn’t catch them boys with no Jezebel.” “Is that her name?” Chick asked. “It ain’t the name I heard.” “He’s never learned to curb his passions,” Wilbarger said. “I hope you’ll excuse him.” “A loose tongue is never welcome,” Augustus said mildly.
“Horses,” Wilbarger said, returning to the more important subject. “This business about being closed is an irritation. I’d hoped to be back to my herd by sunup. It’s held in a bad place. The mosquitoes will eat most of my crew if I don’t hurry. If I could just get enough ponies to get me started I might be able to pick up some extras as I go north.” “That’s a risk,” Call said.
“I know it’s a risk—what ain’t?” Wilbarger said. “How many could you sell me this afternoon?” Call was tired of beating around the bush.
“Three,” he said.
“Three this afternoon and a hundred tomorrow,” Wilbarger said. “You must know a man with lots of horses to sell. I wish I knew him.” “He mostly sells to us,” Augustus said. “We’re lavish with money.” Wilbarger handed back the jug. “You’re lavish with time, too,” he said. “My time. We couldn’t go visit this man right now, could we?” Call shook his head. “Sunup,” he said.
Wilbarger nodded, as if that was what he had expected. “All right,” he said. “If you’ve left me a choice, I don’t notice it.” He walked back to the black horse, tightened the girth and pulled himself back into the saddle.
“You men won’t disappoint me, will you?” he asked. “I’m mean as a torn turkey when I’m disappointed.” “We’ve always been taken at our word,” Call said. “You can count on forty horses at sunup, thirty-five dollars a horse.” “We’ll be here,” Wilbarger said. “You won’t have to hunt us up.” “Wait a minute,” Call said. “What’s your horse brand, or do you have one?” “I have one,” Wilbarger said. “I brand HIC on the left hip.”“Are your horses shod?” Call asked.
“All shod,” Wilbarger said. “Bring ’em if you see ’em.” “What’s HIC stand for?” Augustus asked.