“Do you have many mornings like this?”
Windy, looking straight up the road, shook his head.
“First one I ever had,” he said slowly.
“First one you ever had?”
“Mostly travel alone, ma’am. Sometimes a puncher goes to Granite and
loses his bronc, you know, and he has to ride back with me. This stage
don’t pay much—not in passengers. Haul the mail, you know, and some
freight.”
“I see. What kind of a town is Pineville?”
“Oh, all right. Need a railroad. They thought they was goin’ to git a
railroad, but the railroad company didn’t think they was, and the
railroad company built it, so they didn’t let Pineville’s thoughts
amount to much. Mebby some day they’ll extend the line over there; but I
dunno what for.”
“You are pretty well acquainted around here?”
“Know every sage bush by its first name, ma’am. Raised here and got m’
eddication here. Could ’a’ been a big cowman, I reckon, but m’ tastes
didn’t run thataway.”
“I suppose the transportation business was of more interest to you.”
“Well, I—I—” Windy floundered badly. He didn’t know what transportation
meant, but he ended weakly, “Yes, ma’am, it was.”
“This country is not what one might call thickly settled,” she observed
a little later.
“No, it ain’t, ma’am. You’re from the city, ain’t you?”
“Chicago. I came here from Cheyenne.”
“Chicago, eh? Well, well! I was down there six year ago. Went down with
a load of TD cows. Uh-h-h-h-huh-h-h-h! I sh’d say I did. Say, you don’t
happen to know a Miss Smith in Chicago, do you? Had yaller hair and
chawed gum. No? I dunno if she’s there yet or not. I took her to a show,
and durin’ the evenin’ somebody stole my watch and my money. She was a
right good lookin’ girl.”
“No, I don’t think I ever met her,” smiled Marion. “Chicago is rather a
large city, you know.”
“You bet. Are you goin’ to stay in Pineville?”
“For several months, I hope, Mr.—er—”
“Name’s March, ma’am. M-a-r-c-h. Jussa same as the month. Most everybody
calls me Windy.”
“Windy March?”
“Shore,” laughed Windy. “Sounds like bad weather, eh? Buck Dennig named
me Windy. I got sore at a couple fellers one night, you know. Mebby I
kinda overestimated m’self. Anyway, I went into the Stormy River Saloon,
intendin’ to knock the whey out of ’em. I reckon I announced m’
intentions, so that all might gather around and see the fun. Well, it
didn’t happen jist the way I planned. You see, them two waddies jist
nacherally knocked the tar out of me. They seemed to have a lot of
fightin’ that had to be done, and they shore worked me over a-plenty;
and when it was all over, I went out on m’ hands and knees, plumb meek
and lowly. That’s how I got my name, ma’am.”
“But I don’t quite understand,” laughed Marion.
“Don’tcha? Buck Dennig said that March came in like a lion and went out
like a lamb; so they shortened it to Windy.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Yes’m, that’s how it comes.”
“I am Miss Evans—Marion Evans. And unless something unforeseen happens,
I shall teach the Pineville school this coming term.”
“Well, what do you know about that? A schoolma’am, eh? Well, you don’t
look it, and that’s a fact.”
“This will be my first school,” she confessed.
“Well, that accounts for it, I suppose.”
Windy slammed on the brake and paid close attention to his driving,
until they left the short grades and entered the flat country again.
“Accounts for what?” asked Marion. Windy squinted against the sun,
trying to recall what he had said.
“Oh, yeah; I done forgot for a minute. Well, I meant that they don’t
stay so pretty after they teach school for a long time. I reckon it
kinda takes all the pretty out of ’em. It’s shore a job—learnin’ kids. I
know they had a job learnin’ me. But they stuck to it, and I came out of
it all right. Takes patience, I reckon.”
“I suppose,” smiled Marion. “It will be a new experience for me; but one
must work.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I feel that I was very fortunate to be accepted by the Pineville school
board. I applied from Cheyenne, and they accepted immediately.”
“Prob’ly had to have somebody.”
Marion wanted to laugh, but she realized that there might be much truth
in what Windy had said.
“I do not suppose that they are flooded with applications,” she said.
“Flooded? My God! Excuse m’ language, ma’am. No, I don’t reckon nobody
has ever had to set along the road with a loaded Winchester to keep the
teachers out of Pineville. The last one we had almost died on us.”
“Almost died on you?”
* * * * *
“Uh-huh. There’s the Blanco ranch ahead of us, ma’am. It’s a good-sized
outfit. Tex Blanco owns it. We’ve got to stop there and drop off a
package for Tex. I dunno what’s in it, but it’s from the Colt Company;
so I don’t have to be no mind reader to know it’s six-shooters.”
“What is a six-shooter?” she asked.
“You don’t know? Well, what do you know about that? A six-gun is a—a
hawgleg—aw, you know—a revolver.”
“Yes, I know what a revolver is.”
“Well, that’s them.”
“I notice you carry one, Mr. March.”
“Everybody does around here. Puncher without a gun is plumb naked.”
“But they don’t shoot each other, do they?”
“Not reg’larly, ma’am. It ain’t what you’d call a common occurrence. In
fact, it don’t happen often enough to make it pop’lar. We wear ’em to
prevent trouble.”
As they drove up to the big gate, Tex Blanco, astride his tall sorrel,
was just coming out.
“Got a package for you, Tex,” said Windy.
He handed the lines to Marion and stepped down over the wheel.
“All right, Windy,” replied Tex, his eyes on Marion.