Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

He wore a long buffalo coat and seldom took it off, even when the days were hot.

One morning there was great excitement. Just as the morning mists began to thin, the man on guard claimed to have seen six Indians on a ridge. He was a young men, very nervous. If there were Indians, they did not reappear. During the day the men surprised three buffalo and killed one of them. That night Fowler brought Elmira samples of the liver and the tongue—the best parts, he said.

The men had talked about the Fort so much that Elmira had supposed it was a real town, but it was just a few scattered buildings, none in good repair. There was only one woman there, the wife of a blacksmith, and she had gone crazy due to the death of all five of her children. She sat in a chair all day, saying nothing to anyone.

Fowler did his best for Elmira. He got the traders to let her have a little room—just a tiny, dirty closet, really. It was next to a warehouse where piles of buffalo skins were stored. The smell of the skins was worse than anything that had happened on the river. Her room was full of fleas that had escaped from the skins. She spent much of her time scratching.

Though the Fort was nothing much to see, it was a busy place, with riders coming and going all the time. Watching them, Elmira wished she was a man so she could just buy a horse and ride away. The men let her alone, but they did look at her whenever she left her room. There were several wild-looking Mexicans who scared her worse than the buffalo hunters.

After a week of scratching, she began to realize she had done a foolish thing, taking the whiskey boat. In Fort Smith, all she had felt was an overwhelming desire to go. The day she left she felt that her life depended on getting out of Fort Smith that day—she had a fear that July would suddenly show up again.

She didn’t regret leaving, but neither did she calculate on landing in a place as bad as Bent’s Fort. In the cow towns, stages came and went, at least—if you didn’t like Dodge you could always go to Abilene. But no stage came to Bent’s Fort—just a wagon track that soon disappeared into the emptiness of the plains.

Though she had not been bothered, the men at the Fort looked very rough. “They don’t think you’re worth robbing,” Fowler said, but she wasn’t sure he was right. Some of the Mexicans looked like they might do worse than rob her if the mood struck them. Once, sitting under the little shed outside her room, she saw a fight between two Mexicans. She heard a yell and saw each man pull a knife. They went at one another like butchers. Their clothes were soon bloody, but evidently the cuts were not serious, for after a while they stopped fighting and went back to gambling together.

Fowler said there might be a party of hunters going north, and that perhaps they would take her, but a week passed and the party didn’t materialize. Then one day Fowler brought her a little plate of food, under her shed. He looked at her sheepishly, as if he had something to say but didn’t want to say it.

“Big Zwey wants to marry you,” he said finally, in an apologetic tone.

“Well, I’m already married,” she said.

“What if he just wants to marry you temporary?” Fowler asked.

“It’s always temporary,” Elmira said. “Why don’t he ask himself?” “Zwey ain’t much of a talker,” Fowler said.

“I’ve heard him talk,” she said. “He talks to the men.” Fowler laughed and said no more. Elmira felt angry. She was in a spot if some man was wanting to marry her. Someonehad thrown a fresh buffalo skin into the warehouse and she could hear the flies buzzing on it from where she sat.

“He’ll take you to Ogallala, if you’ll do it,” Fowler said. “You might think about it. He ain’t as bad as some.” “How would you know?” she asked. “You ain’t been married to him.” Fowler shrugged. “He might be your best bet,” he said. “I’m going back downriver next week. A couple of hide haulers are taking a load to Kansas, and they might take you, but it’d be a hard trip. You’d have to smell them stinkin’ hides all the way. Anyway, the hide haulers are rough,” he said. “I think Zwey would treat you all right.” “I don’t want to go to Kansas,” she said. “I been to Kansas.” What ruined that was that she was pregnant, and showing. Some of the saloons weren’t particular, but it was always harder to get work if you were pregnant. Besides, she didn’t want to work, she wanted Dee, who wouldn’t mind that she was pregnant.

Big Zwey began to spend hours just watching her. He didn’t pretend to gamble or do anything else, he just watched her.

She sat under her shed in one patch of shade, and he sat in another about thirty yards away, just watching. He didn’t pretend to gamble or do anything else.

Once when he was watching, some riders spotted a little herd of buffalo. The other hunters were wild to go after them, but Zwey wouldn’t go. They yelled at him and argued with him, but he just sat. Finally they went off without him. One hunter tried to borrow his gun, but Zwey wouldn’t give it up. He sat there with his big rifle across his lap, looking at Elmira.

It became amusing to her, her power over the man. He had never spoken to her, not one word, and yet he would sit for hours, thirty yards away. It was something, what must go through men’s minds where women were concerned, to cause them to behave so strangely.

One morning she came out of her closet earlier than usual—she had a touch of morning sickness and wanted some fresh air. When she opened the door, she almost bumped into Big Zwey, who had just been standing outside her door. Her sudden appearance embarrassed him so that he gave her one appalled look and turned and went off, practically at a trot, putting a safe distance between them. He was a very heavy man, and the sight of him trying to run made her laugh out loud, something she hadn’t done in a while. He didn’t turn to look back at her again until he was safely back in his spot, and then he turned fearfully, as if he expected to be shot for having stood by her door.

“Tell him I’ll go,” she said to Fowler that evening. “I guess he ain’t so bad.” “You tell him,” Fowler said.

The next morning she walked over to where Big Zwey sat. When he saw her coming, it seemed for a second like he might bolt, but she was too close. Instead, he sat as if paralyzed, fear in his eyes.

“I’ll go if you think you can get me to Ogallala,” she said. “I’ll pay you what it’s worth to you.” Zwey didn’t say anything.

“How’ll we travel?” she asked. “I ain’t much good at riding horses.” Big Zwey didn’t respond for about a minute. Elmira was about to lose patience when he brushed his mouth with the back of his hand, as if to clean it.

“Could get that there hide wagon,” he said, pointing to a rundown piece of equipment a few yards away. To Elmira the wagon didn’t look like it could travel ten yards, much less all the way to Nebraska.