Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

It was as if she dared him to bargain. He had bargained over many a horse in his day, but never with a woman. He felt shy.

Worse, he felt she didn’t like him, though so far as he could remember he had never given her any reason to take offense.

He studied the situation in silence for several minutes—so long that Clara grew impatient.

Newt had followed them, thinking the Captain might need him to help with the horses if he bought some. He could see that the Captain was mighty put out with the woman. It surprised him that she didn’t seem to care. When the Captain was put out with the men, they cared, but the woman just stood there, her brown hair blowing, not caring in the least and not giving an inch. It was shocking: he had never expected to see anyone stand up to the Captain, except maybe Mr.

Gus.

“I’m neglecting my guests,” Clara said. “There’s no telling when I’ll get to see Gus McCrae again. You take all the time you want to think it over.” Newt was even more shocked. The Captain didn’t say a word. It was almost as if the woman had issued him an order.

The woman turned, and as she did, she looked at Newt. Before he could drop his eyes she had caught him looking at her in turn. He felt greatly embarrassed, but to his surprise Clara smiled again, a friendly smile that vanished when she turned back to the Captain.

“Well, it’s a stiff price, but they’re good horses,” Call said, wondering how the men could bring themselves to work for such a testy woman.

Then he remembered that the younger man had been the sheriff chasing Jake. “You come from Arkansas, don’t you?” he asked.

“Fort Smith,” July said.

“We hung your man for you,” Call said. “He fell in with a bad bunch. We caught them up in Kansas.” For a second, July didn’t remember what he was talking about. It seemed a life ago that he had left Fort Smith in pursuit of Jake Spoon. He had long since ceased to give the man any thought. The news that he was dead did not affect him.“I doubt I would have caught him myself,” July said. “I had horse trouble, up around Dodge.” When Clara got back to the house she was in high color. The way Call had stood there silently, not even asking a question or making an offer, just waiting for her to come down on the price, struck her as arrogant. The more she thought about it, the less hospitable she felt toward the man.

“I can’t say that I’m fond of your partner,” she said to Augustus. He had talked the girls out of some chicken gizzards and was eating them off a plate.

“He ain’t skilled with the ladies,” Augustus said, amused that she was angry. As long as she wasn’t angry at him, it just made her the better-looking.

“Ma, shall we take buttermilk?” Betsey asked. She and Sally had changed dresses without their mother’s permission, and were so excited by the prospect of a picnic that they could hardly keep still.

“Yes, today we feast,” Clara said. “I asked Cholo to hitch the little wagon. One of you go change that baby, he’s rather fragrant.” “I’ll help,” Lorena said. It surprised Augustus, but she went off upstairs with the girls. Clara stood listening as their footsteps went up the stairs. Then she turned her deep-gray eyes on Augustus.

“She’s hardly older than my daughters,” Clara said.

“Don’t you be scolding me,” he said. “It ain’t my fault you went off and got married.” “If I’d married you, you would have left me for somebody younger and stupider long before now, I imagine,” Clara said.

To his surprise she came over and stood near him for a moment, putting one of her large, strong hands on his shoulder.

“I like your girl,” she said. “What I don’t like is that you spent all these years with Woodrow Call. I detest that man and it rankles that he got so much of you and I got so little. I think I had the better claim.” Augustus was taken aback. The anger in her was in her eyes again, this time directed at him.

“Where have you been for the last fifteen years?” she asked.

“Lonesome Dove, mostly,” he said. “I wrote you three letters.” “I got them,” she said. “And what did you accomplish in all that time?” “Drank a lot of whiskey,” Augustus said.

Clara nodded and went back to packing the picnic basket. “If that was all you accomplished you could have done it in Ogallala and been a friend to me,” she said. “I lost three boys, Gus. I needed a friend.” “You ought to wrote me that, then,” he said. “I didn’t know.” Clara’s mouth tightened. “I hope I meet a man sometime in my life who can figure such things out,” she said. “I wrote you but I tore up the letters. I figured if you didn’t come of your own accord you wouldn’t be no good to me anyway.” “Well, you was married,” he said, not knowing why he bothered to argue.

“I was never so married but what I could have managed a friend,” she said. “I want you to look at Bob before you go. The poor man’s laid up there for two months, wasting away.” The anger had died out of her eyes. She came and sat down in a chair, looking at him in the intent way she had, as if reading in his face the events of the fifteen years he had spent away from her.

“Where’d you get Miss Wood?” she asked.

“She’s been in Lonesome Dove a while,” he said.