“I can’t wait all day just for the chance to shoot two worn-out old Rangers.” he said. “There are plenty that need killing besides you two.” “I guess Charlie Goodnight must have run you off,” Augustus said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be off down here in respectable country riding some dead Mexican’s saddle.” The man smiled a hard smile. “If you ever bring that goddamned old tongue of yours north of the Canadian I’ll cut it out and feed it to my wolf pups,” he said. “That and your nuts too.” Without another look he rode past them and on out of the camp.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“Bol might have been taking target practice,” Augustus said. “He might have fired at a cowpie.” “It don’t matter what it was,” Call said. “The damage is done.” Augustus was enjoying the little break the accident produced. Walking along all day beside a cow herd was already proving monotonous—any steady work had always struck him as monotonous. It was mainly accidents of one kind and another that kept life interesting, in his view, the days otherwise being mainly repetitious things, livened up mostly by the occasional card game.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“Fish him out, boys, otherwise we’ll have to go all the way to Montana without no pianer player,” he said—though privately he doubted his efforts would do any good. The wagon had landed smack on top of Lippy. If he wasn’t drowned he probably had a broken neck.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Yet she was uncommonly beautiful. It had always been his trouble—he liked the beauties. It gave her a power he didn’t appreciate, otherwise he would never have been talked into a trip that was little more than absurd. He was slowed to the pace of Call’s cow herd and tied to a woman who attracted every man she saw. Even then, he didn’t know if he could leave her. For all her difficult ways, he wanted her and couldn’t tolerate the thought of her taking up with Gus or anyone else. He felt she would stick by him if things got bad. He didn’t like being alone or having to take orders from Call.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

In fact they rode so hard that Joe soon stopped missing the talk. Although still curious, he discovered that travel was harder than he had expected it to be. Besides hating to talk, July also seemed to hate to stop. When they came to a creek he would let the horses water, and now and then he got down to relieve himself; otherwise they rode from first light until it was too dark to see. On nights when there was a moon they rode well into the night.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“I said we oughta get married,” Louisa said loudly. “What I like about you is you’re quiet. Jim talked every second that he didn’t have a whiskey bottle in his mouth. I got tired of listening. Also, you’re skinny. If you don’t last, you’ll be easy to bury. I’ve buried enough husbands to take such things into account. What do you say?” “I don’t want to,” Roscoe said. He was aware that it sounded impolite but was too startled to say otherwise.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“Then take off your star, if it’s that heavy,” the woman said. “Help me cut these roots. I’d like to get this stump out before dark. Otherwise we’ll have to work at night, and I hate to waste the coal oil.” Roscoe hardly knew what to think. He had never tried to pull up a stump in his life, and didn’t want to start. On the other hand he didn’t want to sleep in the woods another night if he could help it.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

It was not every night that he remembered Mary, though. Much of the time he found himself wondering about the generalities of marriage. The principal aspect he worried over most was that marriage required men and women to live together. He had tried many times to envision how it would be to be alone at night under the same roof with a woman—or to have one there at breakfast and supper. What kind of talk would a woman expect? And what kind of behavior. It stumped him: he couldn’t even make a guess. Once in a while it occurred to him that he could tell Mary he would like to marry her but didn’t consider himself worthy to live under the same roof with her. If he put it right she might take a liberal attitude and allow him to continue to live down the street with the boys, that being what he was used to. He would plan, of course, to make himself available for chores when she required him—otherwise life could go on in its accustomed way.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Augustus dismounted and tightened his cinch a notch. “I hope we don’t strike too many gullies,” he said. “I dislike jumping gullies in the dark.” Newt’s heart gave a little jump when he realized the Captain meant to keep him with him. It must mean the Captain thought he was worth something, after all, though he had no idea how to catch a wrangler, Mexican or otherwise.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Dish Boggett had ridden off the worst of his drunk, though there were moments when he still felt queasy. Dish had spent most of his life on a horse and could ride in any condition short of paralysis; he had no trouble keeping his place in the group. In time his head quit throbbing and he felt well enough to take an interest in the proceedings at hand. He was not troubled by any sense of being lost, or any apprehension about Mexican bandits. He was confident of his mount and prepared to outrun any trouble that couldn’t be otherwise handled. His main trouble was that he was riding just behind Jake Spoon and thus was reminded of what had happened in the saloon every time he looked up. He knew he had become a poor second in Lorena’s affections to the man just in front of him, and the knowledge rankled. The one consoling thought was that there might be gunplay before the night was over—Dish had never been in a gun battle but he reasoned that if bullets flew thick and fast Jake might stop one of them, which could change the whole situation. It wasn’t exactly that Dish hoped he’d be killed outright—maybe just wounded enough that they’d have to leave him someplace downriver where there might be a doctor.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

But stepping around the corner brought another shock. There was no swaybacked gray tied to the hitch rail in front of the saloon. In fact, there were no horses at all in front of the saloon. Over at the Pumphreys’ store a couple of big strapping boys were loading rolls of barbed wire into a wagon. Otherwise the street was empty.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Xavier himself had a near-monopoly on fastidiousness in Lonesome Dove. He wore a white shirt the year round, clipped his little mustache once a week and even wore a bow tie, or, at least, a black shoestring that did its best to serve as a bow tie. Some cowpoke had swiped Xavier’s last real bow tie, probably meaning to try and impress some girl somewhere up the trail. Since the shoestring was limp, and not stiff like a bow tie should be, it merely added to the melancholy of Xavier’s appearance, which would have been melancholy enough without it. He had been born in New Orleans and had ended up in Lonesome Dove because someone had convinced him Texas was the land of opportunity. Though he soon discovered otherwise, he was too proud or too fatalistic to attempt to correct his mistake. He approached day-to-day life in the Dry Bean with a resigned temper, which on occasion stopped being resigned and became explosive. When it exploded, the placid air was apt to be rent by Creole curses.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Tonight, we are too tired to eat, we don't have enough fuel to get to mainland Chile, so our only option is to motor 400 miles to Rapa Nui, otherwise known as Easter Island.
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