Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“He wants to see you, if you’re not too busy,” Deets said. “He said if you were busy don’t make the trip.” “Why would I be that busy?” Augustus asked.

Deets looked at him. “He’s real polite, that gentleman,” he said. “I guess he thinks he might be dead before you get there.” “Oh, I see—the man don’t want to put nobody out,” Augustus said. “I’ll go anyway. I admire his conversation.” “Change horses,” Call said to Deets, and Deets loped off. He was trying to decide who they ought to take, and finally decided just to take Pea Eye, Deets and the boy. The boy could watch the horses, if there was trouble. It meant leaving the herd, but there was no help for it. There was good grazing and the herd looked peaceful. Dish and the rest of the crew ought to be about to handle it.

“Was it Indians got him?” he asked, when Deets returned.

Deets shook his head. “White men,” he said. “Horse-thieves.” “Oh,” Call said. “Murdering horsethieves, at that.” But it relieved his mind, for horsethieves wouldn’t attack an outfit as large as theirs.

Augustus dropped back to explain matters to Lorena. She looked at him with worry in her eyes.

“Now, Lorie, you relax,” he said. “It wasn’t Indians, after all.” “What was it then?” she asked.

“The man who loaned us this tent got shot,” he said. “He’s in a bad way, it appears. We’re going to see if we can help him.” “How long will it take?” Lorena asked. It was already late afternoon—it meant a night without Gus, and she had not had to face one since he rescued her.

“I don’t know, honey,” he said. “A few days, maybe, if we go after the horsethieves that shot him. If there’s a chance to get them we’ll try. Call won’t let a horsethief off, and he’s right.” “I’ll go,” Lorena said. “I can keep up. We don’t need the tent.” “No,” Augustus said. “You stay with the wagon—you’ll be perfectly safe. I’ll ask Dish to look after you.” Lorena began to shake. Maybe Gus was doing it because he was tired of her. Maybe he would never come back. He might slip off and find the woman in Nebraska.

To her surprise, Gus read her mind. He smiled his devilish smile at her. “I ain’t running for the bushes, if that’s what you think,” he said.

“There ain’t no bushes,” she pointed out. “I just don’t want you to go, Gus.” “I got to,” Augustus said. “A man’s dying and he asked for me. We’re kind of friends, and think what would have happened when the grasshoppers hit if we hadn’t had this tent to hide in. I’ll be back, and I’ll see that Dish looks after you in the meantime.” “Why him?” she asked. “I don’t need him. Just tell him to leave me be.” “Dish is the best hand,” Augustus said. “Just because he’s in love with you don’t mean he couldn’t be helpful if a storm blew up or something. It ain’t his fault he’s in love with you. He’s smitten, and that’s all there is to it.” “I don’t care about him,” Lorena said. “I want you to come back.” “I will, honey,” he said, checking the loads in his rifle.

Dish could hardly believe his luck when Augustus told him to take Lorena her meals and look after her. The thought that he would be allowed to go over to the tent made him a little dizzy.

“Do you think she’ll speak to me?” he asked, looking at the tent. Lorena had gone inside and pulled the flaps, though it was hot.

“Not today,” Augustus said. “Today she’s feeling sulky. If I was you I’d sing to her.” “Sing to Lorie?” Dish said, incredulous. “Why, I’d be so scared I’d choke.” “Well, if you require timid women there’s not much I can do for you,” Augustus said. “Just keep a good guard at night andsee she don’t get kidnapped.” Call hated to leave the herd, and most of the cowboys hated it that he was leaving. Though it was midsummer, the skies clear, and the plains seemingly peaceful, most of the hands looked worried as the little group prepared to leave. They sat around worrying, all but Po Campo, who was singing quietly in his raspy voice as he made supper. Even Lippy was unnerved. He was modest in some matters and had just returned from walking a mile, in order to relieve his bowels in private.

“If you see any bushes, bring one back with you,” he said to the mounted men. “If we had a bush or two I wouldn’t have to walk so far just to do my business.” “I don’t know why you’re so modest,” Augustus said. “Go over and squat behind a cow. You got a hole in your stomach anyway.” “I wish we’d brought the pia-ner,” Lippy said. “A little pia-ner music would go good right now.” Call put Dish in charge of the outfit, meaning that he suddenly had two heavy responsibilities—Lorena and the herd. It left him subdued, just thinking about it. If anything should happen to the girl or the herd he’d never be able to hold up his head again.

“Ease ’em along,” Call told Dish. “Bert can scout ahead and make sure there’s water.” If Dish felt subdued, Newt felt nothing but pride to have been selected for the trip. He could tell some of the other hands were envious, particularly the Rainey boys, but it was the Captain’s order, and no one dared say a word. When he saw the Captain put two boxes of rifle shells into his saddlebag he felt even prouder, for it meant he might be expected to fight.

The Captain must have decided he was grown, to bring him on such a trip. After all, only the original Hat Creek outfit—the Captain and Mr. Gus, Pea and Deets—were going along, and now he was included. Every few minutes, as they rode east, he put his hand on his pistol to reassure himself that it was still there.

They got back to Wilbarger a little after sundown, before the plains had begun to lose the long twilight. He had reached the Arkansas before collapsing, and lay under the shade of the bank on a blanket Deets had left him. He was too weak to do more than raise his head when they rode up; even that exhausted him.

“Well, you just keep turning up,” he said to Augustus, with a wan smile. “I’ve been lying here trying not to bleed on this good blanket your man left me.” Augustus stooped to examine him and saw at once there was no hope.

“I’ve bled so much already I expect I’m white as snow,” Wilbarger said. “I’m a dern mess. I took one in the lung and another seems to have ruint my hip. The third was just a flesh wound.” “I don’t think we can do anything about the lung,” Call said.

Wilbarger smiled. “No, and neither could a Boston surgeon,” he said.

He raised his head again. “Still riding that mare, I see,” he said. “If I could have talked you out of her I probably wouldn’t be lying here shot. She’d have smelled the damn horsethieves. I do think she’s a beauty.” “How many were there?” Call asked. “Or could you get a count?” “I expect it was Dan Suggs and his two brothers, and a bad nigger they ride with,” Wilbarger said. “I think I hit the nigger.” “I don’t know the Suggses,” Call said.

“They’re well known around Fort Worth for being murdering rascals,” Wilbarger said. “I never expected to be fool enough to let them murder me. It’s humbling. I lived through the worst war ever fought and then got killed by a damn sneaking horsethief. That galls me, I tell you.” “Any of us can oversleep,” Augustus said quietly. “If you was to lie quiet that lung might heal.” “No sir, not likely,” Wilbarger said. “I saw too many lung-shot boys when we were fighting the Rebs to expect that to happen. I’d rather just enjoy a little more conversation.” He turned his eyes toward the Hell Bitch and smiled—the sight of her seemed to cheer him more than anything.

“I do admire that mare,” he said. “I want you to keep that mean plug of mine for your troubles. He’s not brilliant, but he’s sturdy.” He lay back and was quiet for a while, as the dusk deepened.

“I was born on the Hudson, you know,” he said, a little later. “I fully expected to die on it, but I guess the dern Arkansas will have to do.” “I wish you’d stop talking about your own death,” Augustus said in a joking tone. “It ain’t genteel.” Wilbarger looked at him and chuckled, a chuckle that brought up blood. “Why, it’s because I ain’t genteel that I’mbleeding to death beside the Arkansas,” he said. “I could have been a lawyer, like my brother, and be in New York right now, eating oysters.” He didn’t speak again until after it was full dark. Newt stood over with the horses, trying not to cry. He had scarcely known Mr. Wilbarger, and had found him blunt at first, but the fact that he was lying there on a bloody blanket dying so calmly affected him more than he had thought it would. The emptiness of the plains as they darkened was so immense that that affected him too, and a sadness grew in him until tears began to spill from his eyes. Captain Call and Mr. Gus sat by the dying man. Deets was on the riverbank, a hundred yards away, keeping watch. And Pea Eye stood with Newt, by the horses, thinking his own thoughts.

“How long will it take him to die?” Newt asked, feeling he couldn’t bear such a strain for a whole night.