Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“I like to snatch a minute for Mr. Milton, and the morning’s my only hope,” Wilbarger added. “At night I’m apt to be in a stampede, and you can’t read Mr. Milton during a stampede—not and take his sense. My days are mostly taken up with lunkheads and weather and sick horses, but I sometimes get a moment of peace after breakfast.” The man looked at them sternly through his glasses. Joe, who had hated what little schooling he’d had, was at a loss to know why a grown man would sit around and read on a pretty day.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you,” July said.

“Are you a lawman?” Wilbarger asked in his impatient way.

“I am,” July said.

“Then you’re going to have to listen to some complaints about the law in this state,” Wilbarger said. “I’ve never seen a place with less law. The farther south you go, the worse the horsethieves get. Along that border they’re thicker than ticks.” “Well, I ain’t from Texas, I’m from Arkansas,” July said.

“It’s a weak excuse,” Wilbarger said, marking his place with a grass blade and standing up. “I didn’t notice much law in Arkansas either. There’s law of sorts in New Orleans, but out here it’s every man for himself.” “Well, there’s Texas Rangers but I guess they mostly fight the Indians,” July said, wondering where the conversation would end.

“Yes, I met a couple,” Wilbarger said. “They were excellent horsethieves themselves. They stole my remuda back from some sly Mexicans. Are you looking for a killer or what?” “Yes, a man named Jake Spoon,” July said. “He killed a dentist in Fort Smith.” Wilbarger tucked his book carefully into his bedroll and tossed the bedroll in the back of the wagon.

“You’ve overshot Mr. Spoon,” he said. “He was recently seen in the town of Lonesome Dove, where he won twenty dollars from a hand of mine. However, he’s headed this way. He partnered up with the gentlemen who got my horses back. If I were you I’d camp here and put this boy in school. They’ll be along in two or three weeks.” “I thank you for the information,” July said. “I don’t suppose you’ve run across a man named Roscoe Brown along the trail.”“Nope, who’d he kill?” Wilbarger asked.

“Nobody,” July said. “He’s my deputy. It may be that he’s lost.” “The name Roscoe don’t inspire confidence,” Wilbarger said. “People named Roscoe ought to stick to clerking. However, it’s summertime. At least your man won’t freeze to death. Any more people you’re looking for?” “No, just them two,” July said, refraining from mentioning Elmira.

Wilbarger mounted. “I hope you hang Spoon promptly,” he said. “I expect he’s a card cheat, and card cheats undermine society faster than anything. If you find your deputy, see if you can’t steer him into clerking.” With that he trotted over to the cook. “Are you coming with us, Bob?” he asked.

“No,” the cook said. “I’m planning to marry and settle down here in north Texas.” “I hope you marry somebody who can cook,” Wilbarger said. “If you do, let me know. When she gets ready to leave you, I’ll hire her.” He looked around at Joe. “Need a job, son?” he asked. “We need a boy that don’t ask questions and is handy with an ax. I don’t know about your chopping skills, but you ain’t asked a question yet.” Wilbarger seemed serious, and July was tempted to let Joe do it. Going north with a herd would be good experience for him. The main advantage, though, was that he himself could then travel alone, with just his thoughts. Without Joe to look after, he could better accomplish the main task ahead, which was to find Elmira.

Joe was startled. He had never expected to be offered a job with a cow outfit, and hearing the words was a thrill. But of course he couldn’t take it—he had been assigned to July.

“Much obliged,” he said. “I reckon I can’t.” “Well, the job’s open,” Wilbarger said. “We may meet again. I’ve got to lope up to the Red River to see if I think the water’s fresh enough for my stock.” “What’ll you do if it ain’t?” Joe asked. He had never known anyone who just said one unusual thing after another, as Wilbarger did. How could the water in a river not be fresh enough for cows?

“Well, I could piss in it to show it what I thought of it,” Wilbarger said.

“Could you use any company?” July asked. “We’re going up that way.” “Oh, I can always use good conversation, when I can get it,” Wilbarger said. “I was brought up to expect good conversation, but then I run off to the wilderness and it’s been spotty ever since. Why are you going north when the man you want is to the south?” “I’ve got other business as well,” July said. He didn’t want to describe it though. He hadn’t meant to ask Wilbarger if they could ride along. He wouldn’t ordinarily have done it, but then his life was no longer ordinary. His wife was lost, and his deputy also. He felt more confused than he ever had in his life, whereas Wilbarger was a man who seemed far less confused than most. He seemed to know his mind immediately, whatever the question put to him.

Wilbarger started at once and loped several miles without speaking. Joe loped with him. The country was open, lightly spotted with elm and post oak. They came to a fair-sized stream and Wilbarger stopped to water his horse.

“Have you been to Colorado?” July asked.

“Yes, once,” Wilbarger said. “Denver’s no worse than most towns out here. I intend to avoid that country, though. The Indians in those parts ain’t entirely reformed, and the outlaws are meaner than the Indians, with less excuse.” It was not comforting talk when one’s wife was said to be on a whiskey boat going up the Arkansas.

“Planning a trip to Colorado?” Wilbarger asked.

“I don’t know,” July said. “Maybe.” “Well, if you go up on the plains and get scalped, there’ll be that much less law in Arkansas,” Wilbarger said. “But then there might not be that much crime in Arkansas now. I guess most of the crime’s moved to Texas.” July wasn’t listening. He was trying to convince himself that Peach was wrong—that Elmira had just gone wandering for a few days. When Wilbarger started to move on, July did not.

“Thanks for the company,” he said. “I think we better go look for my deputy.” “There’s a perfectly straight trail from Fort Smith into Texas,” Wilbarger said. “Captain Marcy laid it out. If that deputy can’t even stay in a road, I expect you ought to fire him.” Then he loped away without saying goodbye. Joe wished they were going with him. In only a few hours the man had paid him several compliments and had offered to hire him. He found himself feeling resentful both of July and Roscoe. Julydidn’t seem to know what he wanted to do, and as for Roscoe, if he couldn’t stay in a road, then he deserved to be lost.

He wished he had spoken up and grabbed the job when Wilbarger offered it.

But the moment had been missed—Wilbarger was already out of sight, and they were still sitting there. July looked depressed, as he had ever since they had left Fort Smith. Finally, without a word, he turned east, back toward Arkansas.

Joe wished he was old enough to point out to July that nothing he was doing made any sense. But he knew July probably wouldn’t even hear him in the state he was in. Joe felt annoyed, but he kept quiet and followed along.

THE AMAZING THING about Janey, in Roscoe’s view, was that she knew her way. Almost as amazing was that she liked to walk. The first day or two it felt a little wrong that he was riding and she was walking, but she was just a slip of a girl, and he was a grown man and a deputy besides. He pointed out to her that she was welcome to ride—she weighed practically nothing, and anyway they weren’t traveling fast enough to tire a horse.