Larry McMurtry - Lonesome Dove

Luke, on the other hand, was a feisty little rabbit who lost no time in making his wants known. In the early morning he would stand and relieve himself in plain sight of her, grinning and looking at her while he did it. Zwey, who slept like a rock, never noticed this strange habit.

Luke was not easy to discourage. Soon he took a new tack, which was to persuade Zwey that when they hunted the two of them ought to hunt in separate directions. It was true that game was scarce, but that wasn't the reason Luke hunted by himself. All he was hunting was Elmira. As soon as he knew that Zwey was two or three miles from the wagon, he circled back and pressed his suit. He was direct about it, too. He would tie his horse to the wagon and climb right in with her. He put his arm around her and made crude suggestions.

"No," Elmira said. "I came with Zwey. He told me I wouldn't be bothered."

"What bother?" Luke asked.

"I'm going to have a baby," she said, hoping that would discourage him.

Luke looked at her belly. "Not for a while yet," he said. "This ain't gonna take no month. It probably won't take six minutes. I'll pay you. I won good money playing cards back at the Fort."

"No," Elmira said. "I'm afraid of Zwey."

She wasn't really, but it made a handy excuse. She was more afraid of Luke, who had mean eyes-there was something crazy in his looks. He also had a disgusting habit, which was that he liked to suck his own fingers. He would do it sitting by the fire at night-suck his fingers as if they were candy.

Luke kept climbing up on the wagon and putting his hands on her, but Elmira kept saying no. She dreamed of Dee occasionally, but other than that she had no interest in men. She thought about telling Zwey that Luke was bothering her, but Zwey was not an easy man to talk to. Anyway, it might start a fight, and Luke might win, in which case her goose would be cooked. Zwey was strong but slow, and Luke didn't look like a man who would fight fair.

So when Luke snuck back and climbed onto the wagon seat, Elmira possumed. She couldn't stop his hands entirely, but she made herself into a tight little package and concentrated on driving the mules.

When Luke saw he wasn't going to change her mind with talk or the offer of money, he tried threats. Twice he cuffed her and once shoved her completely off the wagon seat. She fell hard and barely got out of way of the wagon wheel. Immediately she thought of the baby, but she didn't lose it. Luke cursed her and rode off and she climbed back up and drove the wagon.

The next day he threatened to kill Zwey if she didn't let him. "Zwey's dumb," he said. "He ain't no smarter than a buffalo. I'll shoot him while he sleeps."

"I'll tell him that," Elmira said. "Maybe he won't sleep. Maybe he'll kill you, while you're at it."

"What have you got against me?" Luke said. "I mostly treat you nice."

"You knocked me off the wagon," she said. "If that's nice treatment I'll pass."

"I only want a little," Luke said. "Only once. We're still a long ways from Nebraska. I can't go that long."

The next day he caught her off guard and shoved her back in the wagon by the hides. He was on her like a terrier, but she kicked and scratched, and before he could do anything the mules took fright and started to run away. Luke had to grab the reins with his pants half down, and when he did Elmira grabbed Zwey's extra rifle. When Luke got the mules stopped, he found a buffalo gun pointed at him.

Luke smiled his mean smile. "That gun would break your shoulder if you fired it," he said.

"Yes, and what would it do to you?" she said.

"When I get you you'll wish you'd give it to me," Luke said, flushing red with anger. He got on his horse and rode off.

Zwey came back well before sundown with a wild turkey he had managed to shoot. But Luke wasn't back. Elmira decided she might as well tell Zwey. She couldn't tolerate any more of Luke. Zwey was mildly puzzled that Luke wasn't there.

"I chased him off with the gun," Elmira said.

Zwey looked surprised. His mouth opened and the look spread up his big face.

"With the gun?" he asked. "Why?"

"He tried to interfere with me," Elmira said. "He tries it nearly ever day, once you go off."

Zwey pondered that information for a time. They had made a mess of cooking the turkey, but at least it was something to eat. Zwey gnawed on a big drumstick while he pondered.

"Was it he tried to marry you?" he asked.

"You can call it that, if you like," she said. "He tries to do me. I want him to let be."

Zwey said nothing more until he had finished his drumstick. He cracked the bone with his teeth, sucked at the marrow a minute and then threw the bone into the darkness.

"I guess I better kill him if he's going to act that way," he said.

"You could take him with you when you hunt, like you used to," she said. "He couldn't pester me if he's with you."

She had hardly spoken when a shot rang out. It passed between the two of them and hit the turkey, knocking it off its stick into the ashes. They both scrambled for the cover of the wagon and waited. An hour later they were still waiting. There were no more shots, and Luke didn't appear.

"I wonder why he shot the turkey," Zwey said. "It was done dead."

"He didn't shoot the turkey, he missed you," Elmira suggested.

"Well, it tore up the turkey," he said, when they came out of cover and picked up the cold bird.

That night he slept under the wagon with a cocked pistol but there was no attack. They ate cold turkey for breakfast. Two days later Luke showed up, acting as if he'd never been away.

Elmira was apprehensive, fearing a fight then and there, but Zwey seemed to have forgotten the whole business. About the time Luke rode up they spotted two or three buffalo and immediately rode off to shoot them, leaving Elmira to drive the wagon. They came back after dark with three fresh hides, and seemed in good spirits. Luke scarcely looked at her. He and Zwey sat up late, cooking slices of buffalo liver. They were both as bloody as if they'd been skinned. Elmira hated the smell of blood and kept away from them as best she could.

The next morning, before good light, she woke up gagging at the blood smell and looked up to see Luke sitting astraddle of her. He was rubbing his bloody hands over her bosom. Her stomach heaved from the smell.

Luke was fumbling with her blanket, trying to get her uncovered. When he raised up to loosen his clothes Elmira rolled on her stomach, thinking that might stop him. It did annoy him. He bent over her and she felt his hot breath at her ear.

"You're no better than a bitch dog, we'll have it that way," he said. She squeezed her legs together as tightly as she could. Luke pinched her but she kept squeezing. Then he tried to wedge a knee between her legs but he wasn't strong enough. The next thing she knew Zwey was dragging Luke over the side of the wagon. Zwey was smiling, as if he were playing with a child. He lifted Luke and began to smash his head into the wagon wheel. He did it two or three times, smashing Luke into the iron rim, and then he dropped him as if he were deadwood. Zwey didn't really seem angry. He stood by the wagon, looking at Elmira. Luke had pulled her clothes half off.

"I wish he wouldn't act that way," Zwey said. "I won't have nobody to hunt with if I kill him."

He looked down at Luke, who was still breathing, though his head and face were a pulp.

"He just keeps wanting to marry you," Zwey said. "Looks like he'd quit it."

Luke did quit, at that point. He lay in the wagon for four days, trying to get his breath through his broken nose. One of his ears had been nearly scraped off on the wheel; his lips were smashed and several of his teeth broken. His face swelled to such a point that they couldn't tell at first if his jaw was broken, but it turned out it wasn't. The first day, he could barely mumble, but he did persuade Elmira to try and sew his ear back on. Zwey was for cutting it off, since it just hung by a bit of skin, but Elmira took pity on Luke and sewed on the ear. She made a bad job of it, mainly because Luke yelped and jerked every time she touched him with the needle. When she finished, the ear wasn't quite in its right place; it set a little lower than the other and she had pulled the threads a little too tight, so that it didn't have quite the right shape. But at least it was on his head.