"Twenty?" I says; "I'll make it fifty fer luck."
They was tears in that fake parson's eyes. "Lloyd," he says, "if I
really _was_ a preacher, I'd pick you fer a saved man."
Later on, when I walked into Dutchy's thirst-parlour, the boys was on
hand, waitin' patient. As they ketched sight of me, they hollered some.
"My friends," I says, "this is where I stand treat. But it ain't
licker this tune, _no,_ ma'am; I'm presentin' hunderd-foot lots."
So out I drawed my little bunch of deeds and handed one to each feller.
Bergin got the Observatory site and the City Park; Rawson, the University
grounds; Hairoil, the Farmers' and Merchants' Bank block; Chub, the
Court House; Sam Barnes, the spot fer the Grand Op'ra House, and Billy
Trowbridge, the land fer the Deef, Dumb and Blind Asylum. Then I slid.
Ten minutes, and my pinto bronc was a-kitin' fer the Bar Y ranch-house.
Turnin' in at the gate, I seen a light in the sittin'-room winda. I
dropped the reins over Maud's haid and hoofed it up onto the porch.
And inside, there was Macie, a-settin' in her rocker in front of the
fire. On the other side was the President of the Briggs City Pott'ry
Works.
"Boss," I says, as I shook hands with him, "Boss, I've come fer you'
little gal." Say! it took him quick, like a stitch in the side. "Fer
my gal?" he kinda stammers.
"Why--why, Alec,----" she whispers to me.
"Sewell," I goes on, "when I ast you fer her, a while back, you said,
'Git a piece of land as big as the Andrews chunk.' Wal," (I handed
out my deed) "would you mind lookin' at this?"
"It's yourn!" The ole man put his hands to his haid.
"Also," I says, rattlin' the little stack of twenties in my right-hand
britches pocket, "I'm fixed t' git some cows; fifty 'r so--a start,
boss, just a start."
"How'd you do it! Why, I'm plumb knocked silly!"
"But you' ain't the man to go back on you' word, Sewell. I can take
good keer of Mace now--and I want to be friends with the man that's
goin' to be my paw."
He begun to look at me, awful steady and sober, and he looked and he
looked--like as if he hadn't just savvied. Next, he sorta talked to
hisself. "My little Macie," he kept sayin'; "my little Macie."
She put her arms 'round him then, and he clean broke down. "Aw, I
_cain't_ lose my little gal," he says. "I don't keer anythin' about
land 'r cattle. But Macie--she's all I got left. _Don't_ take her
away from me!"
So _that_ was it! (And I'd said that all Sewell keered fer was money.)
"Boss," I says, "you mean you'd like us to live here--with you?"
He come over to me, tremblin' like he had the ague. "Would y',
Cupid?" he ast. "I'd never interfere with you two none. _Would_ y'?"
"Aw, daddy!" says Mace, holdin' to him tight.
"Why, bless you' heart, Sewell," I answers, "what do I want to live
any _other_ place fer? _Mace_ is what I want--just Mace. And, say! you
take back you' little ole crick-bottom."
"Got more land'n I want _now._"
"Boss,"--I helt out my hand--"here's where you git a new son-in-law,
and a foreman fer keeps on cow-punch pay. Shake!"
He give one hand to Mace, and he give me the other. "Not by a long shot,
Cupid!" he says. "Here's where I git a half-_pardner._"
* * * * *
So here I am--settled down at the ole Bar Y. And it'd take a twenty-mule
team t' pull me offen it. Of a evenin', like this, the boss, he sits
on the east porch, smokin'; the boys 're strung along the side of
the bunk-house t' rest and gass and laugh; and, out yonder, is the
cottonwoods, same as ever, and the ditch, and the mesquite, leveler'n a
floor; and--up over it all--the moon, white and smilin'.
Then, outen the door nigh where the sun-flowers 're growin', mebbe
she'll come--a slim, little figger in white. And, if it's plenty warm,
and not too late, why, she'll be totin' the smartest, cutest----
Listen! y' hear that?
"Sweet is the vale where the Mohawk gently glides
On its fair, windin' way to the sea----"
That's my little wife,--that's Macie, now--a-singin' to the kid!