“Honestly?”
“Well,” says I dignified-like, “if you mean that I done any crooked
work, I can say no. I want you to be with me when I breaks the news to
your uncle.”
“He’s still at the office,” says she. “I don’t know what he’ll think,
but I’ll bet he will be surprized.”
“I don’t care much about what he thinks,” says I. “All I wish is to be
vindicated before you. I don’t need to work for him, Emmeline. There is
a plenty of openings for brains, and soon I’ll be able to pay him off
for your board and room, and then we’ll be happy once again.”
We walks in on uncle, who is burning the midnight oil, and he looks at
us surprized-like.
“I’ve got some good news for you,” says I. “Take it or leave it. You
think I ain’t much, but I’m here to prove that you’re wrong. Today I
took that stage away from where Devil Creek had it, and I fought my way
against overpowering odds back to Trail River, where I was forced to
ditch her in the river. Then I turned them broncs loose, and I done it
all alone, too. If I’d had a gun I’d ’a’ brought them outlaws to
judgment, but, as it was, I thought more about saving your property than
I did about personal gains. What do you think of your nephew-in-law?”
Hank, the next time I aim to commit matrimony, I’m going to court the
relatives. I often wonder why they put mental defectives into the
loco-lodge and let demons like Gabe Galesburg roam at large and prey on
society.
Hank, you’ve heard about a feller getting beat until he’s black and
blue, ain’t you? Well, I’ve got that beat. Uncle Gabe beat me until I’m
calloused. I ain’t so proud that I won’t take a job punching cows, just
because I’ve been identified with a business. I don’t look down on no
profession that is honest toil, and I’d be a valuable man to hire, as I
can do anything that anybody can do and likely do it better than they
can. Hoping to get a money-order soon, I beg to remain your obedient
servant.
Dobie Dalton.
P. S. I forgot to tell you that it wasn’t Devil Creek that chased me.
Old “Harmony” Hanson told uncle all about it before I got back that
night. It seems that there was a sick man up there at that ranch, and
the stage was up there to haul him out. Of course they blame me, but
they ought to be glad he wasn’t in the stage.
* * * * *
Mesquite, June 25.