Alec Lloyd, Cowpuncher Part 34

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We took the return trip short cut. First we hit the brush, Mace's hoss breakin' trail, mine a clost second, the _po_lice gent number three. Then we hit open country, where they's allus a lot of young fellers and gals battin' b.a.l.l.s over fly-nets. The crowd scattered, and we sailed by, takin' them nets like claim-jumpers. I heerd a whistle ahaid oncet, and seen a fat _po_liceman runnin' our way, wavin' his arms. Then we went tearin' on,--no stops fer stations--'round the lake, down a road that was thick with keerages,--beatin' ev'rybody in sight--then into timber again.

It was that takin' to the woods the second time that done it. In Central Park is a place where they have ducks and geese (keep the Mayor in aigs, I heerd). Wal, just to east, like, of that place, is a b.u.t.te, all rocks and wash-outs. The blue roan made that b.u.t.te slick as a Rocky Mountain goat. (We'd shook off the _po_lice gent.) At the top, she pitched plumb over, losin' Mace so neat it didn't more 'n jar her.

My hoss got down on his knees, and I come offen _my_ perch. Then both broncs went on.

I was winded, so I didn't speak up fer a bit. Fact is, I didn't exac'ly know what to _re_mark. Oncet I thought I'd say, "You ridin'

a diff'rent hoss t'day, Mace?" 'r "That roan of yourn can lope some." But both bein' kinda personal, I kept still.



But pretty soon, I got a hunch. "I just _knowed_ that blamed muley saddle 'd b.u.t.t me off some day," I says. "It was sh.o.r.e accomodatin', though, to let me down right here."

She didn't say nothin'. She was settin agin a tree, another of them two-mile looks in her eyes, and she was gazin' off west.

I lent her way just a little. "What you watchin', honey?" I ast.

She blushed, awful cute.

I could feel my heart movin' like a circular saw--two ways fer Sunday.

"Honey, what you watchin'?" This time I kinda whispered it.

She reached fer her George Was.h.i.+ngton, and begun fixin' to go. "The sky," she says, some short.

I sighed, and pretended t' watch the sky, too. It looked yalla, like somebody 'd hit it with a aig.

After while, I couldn't stand it no longer--I started in again. "Give me a fair shake, Macie," I says. I was lookin' at her. Say! they wasn't no squaw paint on _her_ cheeks, and no do-funny, drug-store stuff in that pretty hair of hern. And them grey eyes----!

But she seemed a hull county off from me, and they was a right cold current blowin' in my _di_rection.

"Mace," I begun again, "since you come t' Noo York you ain't got you'self promised, 'r nothin' like that, have you? If you have, I'll go back and make that Briggs City bunch look like a lot of colanders."

She shook her haid.

"Aw, Mace!" I says, turrible easied in my mind. "And--and, little gal, has that bug doc been a-holdin' down a chair at you' house of Sunday nights?"

"No,--he come just oncet."

"Why just oncet, honey?"

"I didn't want him t' come no more."

"He said somethin' insultin.' _I_ know. And when I see him again----"

She looked at me square then, and I seen a s.h.i.+ne in them sweet eyes.

"Alec," she says, "you ast me oncet t' cut that man out. Wal, when I got here, it was the only thing I could do fer--fer you."

"My little gal!--and n.o.body else ain't been visitin' you. Aw! I'm a jealous critter!"

"n.o.body else. People ain't very sociable here." Her lip kinda trembled.

That hurt me, and I run outen talk, fer all I had a heap t' say. They was a lot of twitterin' goin' on overhaid, and she was peekin' up and 'round, showing a chin that was enough t' coop the little birds right outen the trees.

I lent closter. "Say, Mace," I begun again, "ain't this park O. K.

fer green gra.s.s? I reckon the Bar Y cows 'd like to be turned loose here."

She smiled a little, awful tender. "Bar Y!" she says, pullin' at her gauntlets.

It give me s.p.u.n.k. "Mace," I says again, "if I'd 'a' been mean, I'd 'a' let the parson go on marryin' us, wouldn't I? Did you ever think of that, little gal?"

She looked down, blinkin'.

I reached over and got holt of one of her hands. I was breathin' like pore Up-State. "Honey," I says, "honey, dear."

She looked square at me. "Alec," she says, "you didn't understand me.

I ain't the kind of a gal that can be roped and hobbled and led on a hackamore."

"And you ain't the kind t' dance with greasers," I says, "--if you're thinkin' back to our first little fuss. _No,_ you _ain't_.

You're too darned nice fer such cattle."

By then, I was shakin' like I had the buck-fever. "Macie," I goes on, "ain't you goin' t' let me come and see you?"

"Wal--wal----"

I got holt of her other hand. "Aw, little gal," I says, "n.o.body wants you t' win out more 'n I do. _I'_m no dawg-in-the-manger, Macie.

You got a' _awful_ fine voice. Go ahaid--and be the biggest singer in Amuricaw. But, honey,--that needn't t' keep you from likin' me--from likin' ole Alec, that cain't live without his dear little gal----"

"I _do_ like y'! And didn't I allus say you was t' come on when I made a success?"

She come into my arms then. And, aw! I knowed _just_ how lonesome she'd been, pore little sweetheart! by the way she clung t' me.

"Alec!--my Alec!"

"Never mind! honey dear, never mind! I'm here t' take keer of y'."

Pretty soon, I says, "Macie, I bought somethin' fer you a while back."

(I felt in my vest pocket.) "Here it is. Will you look at it?"

She looked. And her pretty face got all smiles and blushes, and her eyes tearful. "Alec!" she whispered. "Aint it _beau_tiful!" And she reached out her left hand t' me.

I took it in both of mine--clost, fer a second. Then I sorted out that slim third finger of hern,--and slipped on my little brandin'-iron.

CHAPTER TEN

MACIE AND THE OP'RA GAME

THE street Mace lived on was turrible narra. Why, if a long-horn had 'a' been druv through it, he could 'a' just give a wiggle of his haid and busted all the windas in the block. And her house! It was nigh as dark as the inside of a cow, and I _judged_ they was a last-year's cabbage a-wanderin' 'round somewheres. Wal, never mind. Two shakes of a lamb's tail, and I'd clumb about a hunderd steps and--

"How are y', little gal?"

Alec Lloyd, Cowpuncher Part 34

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Alec Lloyd, Cowpuncher Part 34 summary

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