“I guess no Indian would dare bother you,” Augustus said. “They know they wouldn’t stand a chance.” “We kept some of them alive the last few winters, once the buffalo were gone,” Clara said. “Bob gives them old horses.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“Upstairs, sick,” Clara said. “A horse kicked him in the head. It’s a bad wound.” For a second, remembering the silent man upstairs, she thought how unfair life was. Bob was slipping away, and yet that knowledge couldn’t quell her happiness at the sight of Gus and his friends. It was a lovely summer day, too—a fine day for a social occasion.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“Talk ain’t everything,” she said—words she had often remembered with rue during years when Bob scarcely seemed to utter two words a month.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

It had been one-sided adoration, though, for Gus considered Bob one of the dullest men alive, and often said so. “Why are you marrying that dullard?” he asked her often.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Even when she had accepted Bob, Gus’s presence in her life confused most people, for she had soon demonstrated that she had no intention of giving him up just because she was planning to marry. The situation had been made the more amusing by the fact that Bob himself worshipped Gus, and would probably have thought it odd that she had chosen him over Gus if he had been sharp enough to figure out that she could have had Gus if she’d wanted him.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“You ain’t women yet,” Clara said. “I’m the only one around here, and he better spruce up if he wants to keep on my good side.” July soon returned to work, but his demeanor had not greatly improved. He had little humor in him and could not be teased successfully, which was an irritant to Clara. She had always loved to tease and considered it an irony of her life that she was often drawn to men who didn’t recognize teasing even when she was inflicting it on them. Bob had never responded to teasing, or even noticed it, and her powers in that line had slowly rusted from lack of practice. Of course she teased the girls, but it was not the same as having a grown man to work on—she had often felt like pinching Bob for being so stolid. July was no better—in fact, he and Bob were cut from the same mold, a strong but unimaginative mold.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“I fear he will,” Clara said. She had been careful not to let that notion take hold of the girls, but she wondered if she was wrong. Bob wasn’t getting better, and wasn’t likely to.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Any approaching rider was something to pay attention to in that country. In the first years the sight of any rider scared her and made her look to see where Bob was, or be sure a rifle was handy. Indians had been known to dress in white men’s clothes to disarm unwary settlers, and there were plenty of white men in the Territory who were just as dangerous as Indians. If she was alone, the sight of any rider caused her a moment of terror.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

He remembered what she had said when she told him she was going to marry Bob—that she would want his friendship for her daughters. He would at least go and offer it; besides, it would be interesting to see if the girls were like their mother.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“Yes,” Clara said. “Red Cloud’s fed up. Bob treated them fair and we’ve never had to fear them. I was more scared as a girl. The Comanches would come right into Austin and take children. I always dreamed they’d get me and I’d have red babies.” July had never felt so irresolute. He ought to go, and yet he didn’t. Though he had worked hard, he had little appetite, andafter the meal spent more time cleaning his gun than was really necessary.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“I know Red Cloud,” Clara said. “Bob was good to him. They lived on our horses that hard winter we had four years ago—they couldn’t find buffalo.” “I’ve heard they’re dangerous,” July said.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“No,” Cholo said. “She is better.” “Bob taught me,” Clara said. “We didn’t have any help when we first came here. I wasn’t strong enough to hold the horses so I got stuck with the messier job.” They gelded fifteen young horses and left them in the pen where they could be watched. July had stopped feeling weak, but even so it was a wonder to him how hard Clara and the old man worked. They didn’t stop to rest until the job was done, by which time they were all soaked with sweat. Clara splashed water out of the horse trough to wash her hands and forearms, and immediately started for the house.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“We’ve got to geld some horses,” Clara said. “We’ve put it off too long, hoping Bob would get back on his feet.” “I hate it when you do that,” Sally said.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“My husband’s dying,” Clara said. “But whether he’s dead or alive, I’ll still raise that child.” “I don’t know what to do,” July said. “It’s been so long since I done anything right that I can’t remember it. I don’t know if I’ll ever get Ellie back to Fort Smith. They might even have hired a new sheriff by now.” “Finding a job’s the least of your problems,” Clara said. “I’ll give you a job, if you want one. Cholo’s been doing Bob’s work and his too, and he can’t keep it up forever.” “I always lived in Arkansas,” July said. It had never occurred to him that he might settle anywhere else.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“I think you’re mean,” Sally said. She was quick to attack mother and sister alike. “Daddy’s sick, or he’d talk.” “All right,” Clara said. “I’ll take that back.” In fact, she could remember a thousand meals when Bob hadn’t said a word.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Then she went to look at Bob for a moment—an ugly ooze had been seeping onto his pillow. The stitches in his head had been removed but underneath the wound seemed hot. It might be a new infection. Clara cleaned it as best she could, and took the baby out on her little porch.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“Bob’s my husband,” she said. “He’s injured. We don’t hold out too much hope for him.” She had strained and heated a little milk, and while July ate she fed the baby, using a big nipple she had fixed over a fruit jar.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“I made Bob build me a windbreak,” she said. “I watched my gardens blow away for ten or twelve years and I finally got tired of it.” July looked at her questioningly.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“Mr. Johnson, I guess I’ve got another piece of news for you,” Clara said. She looked from the baby’s face to his, seeking resemblances. It seemed to her the foreheads were the same, and though the child had little hair, the little was the same color as July’s. He was not a bad-looking man, just gaunt from his travels, and dirty. She had a notion to make him shave, when he had rested, so she could compare his face with the baby’s. He could use Bob’s razor. One week ago she had stropped it and shaved Bob.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Clara looked more closely at the man standing in her kitchen. He was very thin and in a kind of daze—probably couldn’t quite believe that he was still alive after such a journey. She had felt that way herself upon arriving in Ogallala after her trip over the plains with Bob, and she hadn’t been snakebit or had any particular adventures.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Yet there he was, his eyes staring upward, as helpless as the baby. She put the child down again and fed Bob soup until her wrist got tired from holding his head. Then she lay Bob’s head back on his pillow, and ate the rest of the chicken soup herself.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

She looked down at Bob and saw that the baby had made no difference. He lay as he had, nothing left to him but need.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

She picked the baby up and held it to her bosom—the thought was in her head that if he saw her with a child it might make a difference. Bob might see it, think it was theirs. It might startle him into life again.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“I guess we got us a boy, Bob,” she said. The doctors had told her to talk to him—they thought it might make a difference, but Clara found that the only difference was that she got depressed. The depressing aspect of it was that it reminded her too clearly of their years together, for she had liked to chatter, and Bob never talked. She had talked at him for years and got no answers. He only spoke if money was concerned. She would talk for two hours and he would never utter a sentence. So far as conversation went, the marriage was no different than it had ever been—it was just easier for her to have her way about money, something that also struck her as sad.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

She laid it at the foot of Bob’s bed while she fed her husband, tilting his head so he could swallow. It was strange to her that he could swallow when he couldn’t even close his eyes. He was a big man with a big head—every time she fed him her wrist ached from supporting his head.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇