"Can you tell me how far it is to the Lazy D ranch?" "Seventy-two miles as the crow flies, ma'am." "Thank you."The conversation threatened to die before it was well born.Desperately McWilliams tried to think of something to say to keep it alivewithout being too bold.
"If y'u were thinking of traveling out that way I could give y'u a lift.I just came in to get another lady--an old lady that has just come to this country.""Thank you, but I'm expecting a conveyance to meet me here.You didn't happen to pass one on the way, I suppose?""No, I didn't.What ranch were y'u going to, ma'am? "Miss Messiter's--the Lazy D."A suspicion began to peretrate the foreman's brain."Y'u ain't Miss Darling?""What makes you so sure I'm not?" she asked, tilting her dimpled chin toward him aggressively.
"Y'u're too young," he protested, helplessly.
"I'm no younger than you are," came her quick, indignant retort.
Thus boldly accused of his youth, the foreman blushed."I didn't mean that.Miss Messiter said she was an old lady--""You needn't tell fibs about it.She couldn't have said anything of the kind.Who are you, anyhow?" the girl demanded, with spirit.
"I'm the foreman of the Lazy D, come to get Miss Darling.My name is McWilliams--Jim McWilliams.""I don't need your first name, Mr.McWilliams," she assured him, sweetly."And will you please tell me why you have kept me waiting here more than thirty hours?""Miss Messiter didn't get your letter in time.Y'u see, we don't get mail every day at the Lazy D," he explained, the while he hopefully wondered just when she was going to need his last name.
"I don't see why you don't go after your mail every day at least, especially when Miss Messiter was expecting me.To leave me waiting here thirty hours--I'll not stand it.When does the next train leave for Detroit?" she asked, imperiously.
The situation seemed to call for diplomacy, and Jim McWilliams moved to a nearer chair."I'm right sorry it happened, ma'am, and I'll bet Miss Messiter is, too.Y'u see, we been awful busy one way and 'nother, and I plumb neglected to send one of the boys to the post-office.""Why didn't one of them walk over after supper?" she demanded, geverely.
He curbed the smile that was twitching at his facial muscles."Well, o' course it ain't so far,--only forty-three miles--still--" "Forty-three miles to the post-office?""Yes, ma'am, only forty-three.If you'll excuse me this time--" "Is it really forty-three?"He saw that her sudden smile had brought out the dimples in the oval face and that her petulance had been swept away by his astounding information.
"Forty-three, sure as shootin', except twict a week when it comes to Slauson's, and that's only twenty miles," he assured her."Used to be seventy-two, but the Government got busy with its rural free delivery, and now we get it right at our doors.""You must have big doors," she laughed.
"All out o' doors," he punned."Y'u see, our house is under our hat, and like as not that's twenty miles from the ranchhouse when night falls.""Dear me!" She swept his graceful figure sarcastically."And, of course, twenty miles from a brush, too."He laughed with deep delight at her thrust, for the warm youth in him did not ask for pointed wit on the part of a young woman so attractive and with a manner so delightfully provoking.
"I expaict I have gathered up some scenery on the journey.I'll go brush it off and get ready for supper.I'd admire to sit beside y'u and pass the butter and the hash if y'u don't object.Y'u see, I don't often meet up with ladies, and I'd ought to improve my table manners when I get a chanct with one so much older than I am and o' course so much more experienced.""I see you don't intend to pass any honey with the hash," she flashed, with a glimpse of the pearls.
"DIDN'T y'u say y'u was older than me? I believe I've plumb forgot how old y'u said y'u was, Miss Darling.""Your memory's such a sieve it wouldn't be worth while telling you.After you've been to school a while longer maybe I'll try you again.""Some ladies like 'em young," he suggested, amiably."But full grown," she amended.
"Do y'u judge by my looks or my ways?" he inquired, anxiously."By both.""That's right strange," he mused aloud."For judging by some of your ways you're the spinster Miss Messiter was telling me about, but judging by your looks y'u're only the prettiest and sassiest twenty-year-old in Wyoming."And with this shot he fled, to see what transformation he could effect with the aid of a whiskbroom, a tin pan of alkali water and a roller towel.
When she met him at the supper table her first question was, "Did Miss Messiter say I was an old maid?""Sho! I wouldn't let that trouble me if I was y'u.A woman ain't any older than she looks.Your age don't show to speak of.""But did she?"
"I reckon she laid a trap for me and I shoved my paw in.She wanted to give me a pleasant surprise.""Oh!"
"Don't y'u grow anxious about being an old maid.There ain't any in Wyoming to speak of.If y'u like I'll tell the boys you're worried and some of them will be Johnnie-on-the-Spot.They're awful gallant, cowpunchers are.""Some of them may be," she differed."If you want to know I'm just twenty-one."He sawed industriously at his steak."Y'u don't say! Just old enough to vote--like this steer was before they massacreed him."She gave him one look, and thereafter punished him with silence.
