That afternoon he stood up, but he couldn’t touch his right foot to the ground. He managed to belly over the horse and get down to the river. It was three days before he had the strength to go back and get the saddle. The effort of getting to the river had exhausted him so much he could barely undo a button. Early one morning he shot a large crane with his pistol, and the meat put a little strength in him. His leg had not returned to normal, but it had not fallen off either. Hecould put a little weight on it, but not much.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Besides, Clara remembered the immense fatigue that had seized her when Betsey was born. Though the last, Betsey had been the most difficult of her births, and when it was over she could not lift her head for three hours. To speak took an immense effort—and Elmira had had a harder time than she had. Best just to let her rest. When her strength came backshe might not be so ill-disposed toward the child.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

He rode back to the herd. Many of the men had changed into their dry clothes while he was gone, a wasteful effort, with the river coming up.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

He rode back to the herd. Many of the men had changed into their dry clothes while he was gone, a wasteful effort, with the river coming up.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“Head back southeast as fast as you can,” Augustus said. “Once you make it down below the Red River you’ll probably be all right. If you go east a ways you ought to run into some herds.” “Why, we’ll be back,” July said. “I ought to go help Captain McCrae, but we’ll be back.” Augustus didn’t feel right about it, but he made no further effort to stop July Johnson. They let the horses rest for an hour, then put Augustus’s saddle on Roscoe’s big gelding, and left. When they rode up on the ridge above the river they saw again the little spark of light to the east, and made for it.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“I could but I ain’t about to,” the old man said. “Scoot back if you’re afraid of a little piss.” Blue Duck spread a blanket near the fire and began to roll dice on it. The Kiowas immediately got excited. Ermoke grabbed the dice and rolled them several times. Each of the Kiowas had a try, but Monkey John scoffed at their efforts.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Augustus was tired and hungry. He lay where he was, thinking about food, but making no effort to get up and fix any, if there was any to be fixed. While he was thinking he ought to get up and eat, he fell asleep.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Roscoe made an effort, but it went awkwardly. “Come on, July’s here,” he said loudly into the darkness. “It’s safe, he’s the sheriff I work for,” he added, just as loudly.
>> 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

Once he started asking these questions it became clear at once that it was a strain for July even to listen, much less answer. It cost him such an effort to respond that Joe soon gave up asking and just rode along in silence, waiting for the land to change and the Indians to appear.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“Well, I don’t take back nothing I said,” Louisa declared. “You men are a worthless race. You’re good for a bounce now and then, and that’s about it. I doubt you’d make much of a fanner.” For some reason Roscoe felt melancholy. For all her loud talk, Louisa didn’t seem to be as disagreeable to him as he had first thought her to be. It seemed to him she might be persuaded to tone down her farming, maybe even move into a town and settle for putting in a big garden, if it was presented to her right. But he couldn’t, because there was the problem of July, who had given him a job and been good to him. The point was, he owed July. Even if he never found him, he had to make the effort, or know that he had failed a friend. Had it not been for that obligation he would have stayed a“It ain’t that I ain’t obliged,” he said. “I’m obliged. The dern thing about it is July. Even if Elmira ain’t coming back, he’s got to be told. It’s my dern job, too. July’s the only friend I got in that town except Joe. Joe’s Elmira’s boy.” Then a happy thought occurred to him. Maybe July had made a slow start. He might not be too far ahead. Perhaps his jaundice had come back on him, in which case he might have had to hole up for a few days. If he himself was lucky he might strike July in a week or two and break the news. Once that was done, his obligation would be satisfied and there would be nothing to keep him from coming back for another visit with Louisa—provided he could find the farm a second time.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Meanwhile Louisa was wiggling around without much interest in what he thought about it all. Roscoe decided the best approach was to pretend a dream was happening, though he knew quite well it wasn’t. But Louisa’s vigor was such that even if Roscoe had got his thoughts in place they would soon have been jarred awry. A time or two he was practically lifted off the ground by her efforts; he was scooted off his tarp and back into the weeds and was forced to open his eyes again in hopes of being able to spot a bush he could grab, to hold himself in place. About the time Louisa moved him completely off the tarp, matters came to a head. Despite the chickens and the weeds and the danger of witnesses, he felt a sharp pleasure. Louisa apparently did too, soon afterward, for she wiggled even more vigorously and grunted loudly.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

When he awoke he got a shock almost worse than if he had found the rattler curled on his chest: Louisa was standing astraddle of him. Roscoe was so tired that it was only his brain that had come awake, it seemed. He would ordinarily havereacted quickly to the sight of anyone standing astraddle of him, much less a woman, but in this case his limbs were so heavy with sleep that he couldn’t move a one: opening his eyes was effort enough. It was nearly sunup, still sultry and humid. He saw that Louisa was barefoot and that her feet and ankles were wet from the dewy grass. He couldn’t see her face or judge her disposition, but he felt a longing to be back on his couch in the jail, where crazy things didn’t happen.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Lately more and more cowboys passed through the town. Once the wild men of Shanghai Pierce had come through, nearly destroying two saloons. They were not bad men, just rowdy and wild to see a town. They tended to scare people’s livestock and rope their pets, and were intolerant of any efforts to curb their play. They were not gunmen, but they could box—July had been forced to crack one or two of them on the jaw and keep them in jail overnight.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

July had heard it all twenty-five or thirty times, the versions differing a good deal, depending upon the teller. He felt derelict for not having made a stronger effort to run Jake out of town before he himself left for the trial in Missouri. Of course it would have been convenient if Roscoe had promptly arrested the man, but Roscoe never arrested anybody except old man Darton, the one drunk in the county Roscoe felt he could handle.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“Well, we better keep up,” he added nervously—he didn’t want to neglect his responsibilities. Then, to his dismay, he looked back and saw twenty or thirty cattle standing behind them. He had ridden right past them in the dust. He immediately loped back to get them, hoping the Captain hadn’t noticed. When he turned back, two of the wild heifersspooked. Mouse, a good cow horse, twisted and jumped a medium-sized chaparral bush in an effort to gain a step on the cows. Newt had not expected the jump and lost both stirrups, but fortunately diverted the heifers so that they turned back into the main herd. He found his heart was beating fast, partly because he had almost been thrown and partly because he had nearly left thirty cattle behind. With such a start, it seemed to him he would be lucky to get to Montana without disgracing himself.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“It’s hard for normal men to relax around you, Call,” Augustus told him once. “You ain’t never been relaxed yourself, so you don’t know what you’re missing.” “Pshaw,” Call said. “Pea goes to sleep around me half the time. I guess that’s relaxed.” “No, that’s worn out,” Augustus said. “If you didn’t work him sixteen hours a day he’d be as nervous as the rest.” When Call had eaten, he took his plate back to Bolivar, who seemed to have decided to go along. He had made no move to leave, at least. Call wanted him along, and yet somehow didn’t feel quite right about it. It didn’t seem proper that a man with a wife and daughters would go away without even informing them, on a journey from which he might never return. The old pistolero didn’t owe the Hat Creek outfit that kind of effort, and Call reluctantly raised the subject with him.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“We’ve the Lord to thank for this bath,” she said. “I personally didn’t need it, but I’m bound to say it might work an improvement where you’re concerned. You ain’t as bad-looking as I thought, now that you’re nearly clean.” By the time she got to her back porch the rain was slackening and the sun was already striking little rainbows through the sparkle of drops that still fell. Pea had walked on home, the water dripping more slowly from his hat. He never mentioned the incident to anyone, knowing it would mean unmerciful teasing if it ever got out. But he remembered it. When he lay on the porch half drunk and it floated up in his mind, things got mixed into the memory that he hadn’t even known he was noticing, such as the smell of Mary’s wet flesh. He hadn’t meant to smell her, and hadn’t made any effort to, and yet the very night after it happened the first thing he remembered was that Mary had smelled different from any other wet thing he had ever smelled. He could not find a word for what was different about Mary’s smell—maybe it was just that, being a woman, she smelled cleaner than most of the wet creatures he came in contact with. It had been more than a year since the rainstorm, and yet Mary’s smell was still part of the memory of it. He also remembered how she seemed to bulge out of her corset at the top and the bottom both.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“Your tough luck, then, son,” Augustus said. “Morning around here is more like a nightmare. Now look what’s happened!” In an effort to get the coffee going, Bolivar had spilled a small pile of coffee grounds into the grease where the eggs and bacon were frying. It seemed a small enough matter to him, but it enraged Augustus, who liked to achieve an orderly breakfast at least once a week.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

It was good reading light by then, so Augustus applied himself for a few minutes to the Prophets. He was not overly religious, but he did consider himself a fair prophet and liked to study the styles of his predecessors. They were mostly too long-winded, in his view, and he made no effort to read them verse for verse—he just had a look here and there, while the biscuits were browning.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“Nobody would be loony enough to hire you to cook, Woodrow,” Augustus said. “The cap is supposed to keep the cook’s old greasy hairs from falling into the food. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of Bol’s hairs have found their way into this sow bosom.” Newt looked at Bolivar, sitting over by the stove in his dirty serape. Bolivar’s hair looked like it had had a can of secondhand lard poured over it. Once every few months Bol would change clothes and go visit his wife, but his efforts at improving his appearance never went much higher than his mustache, which he occasionally tried to wax with grease of some kind.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Now, the raffle for the war effort.
>> 澳大利亚乱世情 Australia Movie Script

- For the war effort, do I hear 20 pounds?
>> 澳大利亚乱世情 Australia Movie Script

Gotta tell you, they're a pretty sorry mob of cattle. Seems hardly worth the effort.
>> 澳大利亚乱世情 Australia Movie Script

Mr. Lockwood takes his humanitarian efforts very seriously.
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