Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

When they approached the river, the herd was held up so the men could strip off. It was so chilly that Newt got goosebumps all over his body when he undressed. He wrapped his clothes and tied them high on his saddle, even his boots. The sight of all the men riding naked would have been amusing if he hadn’t been so tired and nervous about the crossing. Everyone looked white as a fish belly, except their hands and faces, which were brown.

“Good lord, we’re a bunch of beauties,” Dish said, surveying the crew. “Deets is the best-looking of the lot, at least he’s one color. The rest of us is kind of brindled.” Nobody expected weather conditions to get worse, but it seemed that in plains weather there was always room for surprises. A squall blew up as they were starting the cattle into the water, and by the time Old Dog was across the twenty yards of swimming water, Dish on one side of him and Call on the other, the gray sky suddenly began to spit out littlewhite pellets. Dish, who was out of the saddle, hanging onto his saddle strings as his horse swam, saw the first pellets plunking into the water and jerked with fear, for he assumed they were bullets. It was only when he looked up and had a small hailstone peck at his cheek that he realized what was happening.

Call, too, saw the hail begin to pepper the river. At first the stones were small, and he wasn’t too worried, for he had seen fleeting hail squalls pass in five minutes.

But by the time he and Dish hit the north shore and regained their wet saddles, he realized it was more than a squall.

Hailstones were hitting all around him, bouncing off his arms, his saddle, his horse—and they were getting larger by the minute. Dish came riding over, still naked, trying to shelter his face and head with one arm. Hailstones were falling everywhere, splashing into the river, bouncing off the backs of the cattle and plunking into the muddy banks.

“What will we do, Captain?” Dish asked. “They’re getting bigger. Reckon they’ll beat us to death?” Call had never heard of anyone being killed by hailstones, but he had just taken a hard crack behind the ear from a stone the size of a pullet egg. Yet they couldn’t stop. Two of the boys were in the river, swimming, and the cattle were still crossing.

“Get under your horse if it gets worse,” he said. “Use your saddle for cover.” “This horse would kick me to death, if I was to try that,” Dish said. He quickly unsaddled and used his saddle blanket for immediate shelter.

Newt didn’t know what was happening when the first hailstones hit. When he saw the tiny white pellets bouncing on the grass he assumed he was at last seeing snow.

“Look, it’s snowing,” he said excitedly to Needle Nelson, who was near him.

“It ain’t snow, it’s hail,” Needle said.

“I thought snow was white,” Newt said, disappointed.

“They’re both white,” Needle said. “The difference is, hail is harder.” Within a few minutes, Newt was to find out just how hard. The sky began to rain balls of ice—small at first, but then not so small.

“By God, we better get in that river,” Needle said. He had a large hat and was trying to hide under it, but the hailstones pounded his body.

Newt looked around for the wagon, but couldn’t see it, the hail was so thick. Then he couldn’t see Needle, either. He spurred hard and raced for the river, though he didn’t know what he was supposed to do once he got there. As he ran for the river, he almost trampled Jasper, who had dismounted and made a kind of tent of his slicker and saddle—he was crouching under it in the mud.

It was hailing so thickly that when they did reach the river Mouse jumped off a six-foot bank, throwing Newt. Again, he managed to hang onto his reins, but he was naked, and hailstones were pounding all around him. When he stood up he happened to notice that Mouse made a kind of wall. By crouching close under him Newt avoided most of the hailstones—Mouse absorbed them. Mouse wasn’t happy about it, but since he had taken it upon himself to jump off the bank, Newt didn’t feel very sorry for him.

He crouched under the horse until the hailstorm subsided, which was not more than ten minutes after it began. The muddy banks of the Canadian were covered with hailstones, and so were the plains around them. The cattle and horses crunched through the hail as they walked. Isolated stones continued to plop down now and then, bouncing off the ones already there.

Newt saw that the cattle had crossed the wild Canadian, the river that had scared everybody, without much help from the cowboys, who were scattered here and there, naked, crouched under their saddles or, in some cases, their horses. It was a funny sight; Newt was so glad to be alive that suddenly he felt like laughing. Funniest of all was Pea Eye, who stood not thirty yards away, up to his neck in the river, with his hat on. He was just standing there calmly, waiting for the hail to stop.

“How come you got in the water?” Newt asked, when Pea waded out.

“It’s fine protection,” Pea said. “It can’t hail through water.” It was amazing to Newt to see the plains, which had been mostly brown a few minutes before, turned mostly white.

The Irishman walked up leading his horse and kicking hailstones out of the way. He began to pick up the hailstones and throw them in the river. Soon several of the cowboys were doing it, seeing who could throw the farthest or make the hailstones skip across the water.

Then they saw a strange sight: Po Campo was gathering hailstones in a bucket, the two pigs following him like dogs.“What do you reckon he expects to do with them?” Needle Nelson asked.

“I guess he’ll stew ’em, probably,” Pea said. “He’s looking them over like he’s picking peas.” “I wouldn’t want to see this outfit naked tomorrow,” Jasper said. “I guess we’ll all be black and blue. One hit me on the elbow and I can’t straighten my arm yet.” “You don’t do much with it when you do straighten it,” Bert remarked unsympathetically.

“Just ’cause he can’t rope like you can don’t mean he wouldn’t like to use his arm,” Pea Eye said. Everyone picked on Jasper, and once in a while Pea felt obliged to come to his defense. He swung onto his horse and froze before getting his other foot in the stirrup. He had happened to glance across the river and had spotted a horseman riding toward them.

The crew on the north bank had their backs to the rider and hadn’t seen him.

“Why, I swear, it’s Gus,” Pea Eye said. “He ain’t dead at all.” They all looked, and saw the rider coming.