“Your friend Mr. Simpkins is a jolly sort of person, isn’t he?”
“Yes’m. He thinks a lot of you, ma’am.”
“Of me?”
“Yes’m. He said you was the best-looking woman person that ever hit this
range. He said it wasn’t often that you finds brains and beauty
together.”
“Did he say that—honestly?”
“Ma’am, he’d feel bad if he thought you suspicioned him of lying.”
We walks along for a while, and then she says sort of soft-like:
“Don’t you get lonesome at times? I do. I often envy the married folks.”
“Wick and his wife fight like —— sometimes, ma’am.”
“Discord is the spice of life. You men are so big and noble.”
“And most of us are bow-legged, ma’am.”
“Physical faults weigh nothing against a noble soul. There is little
evil in this great land.”
When a female starts swinging a rope thataway I ducks the loop.
“Paw was a horse-thief,” says I. “Mean son-of-a-gun.”
“I do not believe in heredity.”
“I’ve lifted a few cows.”
“You have? My, you must be strong. You never killed a man, did you?”
“Ma’am,” says I, “I’m glad you asked this tonight, ’cause I can say no.
I’m going to kill one tonight.”
“Tonight?” she gasps. “Oh, no! Please—for my sake!”
“Partly,” says I. “Mostly for mine, though.”
“Oh-h-h-h-h!” she gasps. “How are you gug-going to kill him?”
“Spit in his eye and drown him.”
“You are joking me.”
“I always kill liars thataway, ma’am. If you’ll get those pictures I’ll
take ’em to Magpie.”
Honest to grandma, I reckon she thought I was going to kiss her when I
said good-night, but I didn’t.
I took her home and carried them pictures back to Magpie, and I figure
I’d done enough for her.