Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“She run off and followed me,” he added. July looked noncommittal.

“A dern old man beat her and used her hard, and that’s why she run off,” Roscoe elaborated. “Can we go to a saloon? I’d sure fancy a beer.” July took him to a saloon and bought him a beer. Now that he had Roscoe alone he felt curiously reluctant to mention Elmira. Even hearing her name spoken would be painful.

“What about Ellie?” he said finally. “Peach said she left.” “Well, Peach is right,” Roscoe said. “Or if she didn’t leave, then she’s hiding. Or else a bear got her.” “Did you see bear tracks?” July asked.

“No,” Roscoe admitted.

“Then a bear didn’t get her,” July said.

“She probably left on the whiskey boat,” Roscoe said, trying to hide behind his beer glass.

“I don’t see why,” July said softly, almost to himself. He didn’t see why. He had never done anything to disturb her that he could remember. He had never hit her, or even spoken harshly to her. What would prompt a woman to run off when nothing was wrong? Of course, it wasn’t true that nothing had been wrong. Something had been. He just didn’t know what. He didn’t know why she had married him if she didn’t like him, and he had the sense that she didn’t. It was true that Peach had hinted a few times that people got married for reasons other than liking, but Peach was known to be cynical.

Now, in the saloon, he remembered Peach’s hints. Maybe Ellie had never liked him. Maybe she had married him for reasons she hadn’t wanted to mention. Thinking about it all made him feel very sad.

“Did you talk to her at all after I left?” he asked Roscoe.

“No,” Roscoe admitted.

July didn’t speak for five minutes. Roscoe turned over in his mind various excuses for not seeing Elmira, but in truth, it had never once occurred to him to go and see her. He slowly drank his beer.

“What about Jake?” he asked.

“He’s to the south,” July said. “He’s coming with a trail herd. I want to find Ellie. Once that’s done we’ll look for Jake.” He fished some money out of his pocket and paid for the beers. “Maybe you ought to take the young ones and go back to Arkansas,” he said. “I’m going after Ellie.” “I’ll come with you,” Roscoe said. Now that he had found July, he had no intention of losing him again. He had had plenty of trouble coming, and yet worse might occur if he tried to go back on his own.

“I expect if we paid that woman she’d board the girl,” July said. “You go buy some duds. You’ll be a laughingstock if you try to travel in those you got on.” The woman at the livery stable agreed to board Janey for three dollars a month. July paid for two months. When told she was to stay in Fort Worth, Janey didn’t say a word. The woman spoke to her cheerfully about getting some better clothes, but Janey sat on the washtub, silent.

The woman offered to take Joe, too, and board him free if he would help out around the livery stable. July was tempted, but Joe looked so unhappy that he relented and decided to let him stay with them. Then Roscoe showed up, in clothes that looked so stiff it was a wonder he could even walk in them.

“I guess you might break them clothes in by Christmas,” the livery-stable woman said, laughing. “You look like you’re wearing stovepipes.” “I can’t help it if they’re black,” Roscoe said. “It was all they had that fit.” He felt sorry about leaving Janey. What if old Sam got well and tracked them to Fort Worth and found her? He offered her two dollars in case she had expenses, but Janey just shook her head. When they rode off, she was still sitting on the big washtub.

Joe was glad she wasn’t coming. She made him feel that he didn’t do things very well.

He didn’t have long to enjoy being glad, though. That night they camped on the plains, twenty miles north of Fort Worth.July felt it was all right to sleep without a guard, as there were trail herds on both sides of them. They could hear the night herders singing to the cattle.

In the morning, when Joe opened his eyes, Janey was squatting by the cold campfire. She still wore her sack. Even July had not heard her come. When July woke up she handed him back the six dollars he had given the woman. July just took it, looking surprised. Joe felt annoyed. It was wrong of the girl to come without July’s permission. If the Indians carried her off, he for one would not be too sorry—although, when he thought about it, he realized he himself might be an easier catch. The girl had followed them at night, across the plains. It was something he couldn’t have done.

All that day the girl ran along on her own, never getting far behind. She was not like any of the girls Joe had known in Fort Smith, none of whom could have kept up for five minutes. Joe didn’t know what to make of her, and neither did July, or even Roscoe, who had found her. But soon they were far out on the plains, and it was clear to everyone that Janey was along for the trip.

LONG BEFORE THE WHISKEY BOAT STOPPED, Elmira knew she was going to have trouble with Big Zwey. The man had never approached her, or even spoken to her, but every time she went out of her shed to sit and watch the water, she felt his eyes on her. And when they loaded the whiskey in wagons and started across the plains for Bents’ Fort, his eyes followed her in whatever wagon she chose to ride for the day.

It seemed to her it might be the fact that she was so small that made Big Zwey so interested. It was a problem she had had before. Huge men seemed to like her because she was so tiny. Big Zwey was even larger than the buffalo hunter who had caused her to run to July.

Sometimes in the evening, when he brought her her food, Fowler would sit and talk with her a bit. He had a scar which ran over his nose and down across his lips into his beard. He had a rough look, but his eyes were dreamy.

“This whiskey-hauling business has about petered out,” he said one evening. “Indians kept the trade going. Now they’ve about got them all penned up, down in these parts. I may go up north.” “Are there many towns up north?” she asked, remembering that Dee had mentioned going north. Dee liked his comforts—hotels and barbershops and such. Once she had offered to cut his hair and had made a mess of it. Dee had been good-natured about it, but he did remark that it paid to stick to professionals. He was vain about his looks.

“There’s Ogallala,” Fowler said. “That’s on the Platte. There’s towns in Montana, but that’s a long way.” Big Zwey had a deep voice. She could sometimes hear him talking to the men, even over the creak of the wagon wheels.