th’ crowd drift out ahead. Th’ preacher, bein’ uh stranger, shakes hands with Ren and asks his name.

“Ah,” says he. “And this is Mrs. Merton. Well, well, I shore am pleased. May I call?”

“Shore,” grunts Ren, “What yuh got?”

“Ha, ha!” laughs th’ preacher. “Men will have their little jokes, Mrs. Merton. You see I understand a few poker terms. Ha, ha!”

He slaps Ren on th’ shoulder, and hurries to round up another prospect.

“Ha, ha!” snorts Ren, “—— of uh—I beg yore pardon, ma’am. You see I didn’t——”

“How quaint,” sighs Matilda, like uh turtle-dove with uh full crop. “Didn’t it seem comfy to be mistaken fer married folks, Renley? Isn’t th’ moon lovely tonight. Let’s take a little walk, Renley, it’s too lovely to go inside.”

“That moon,” says Ren, “shore is lovely. It’s full. I wish I—shore I’d enjoy uh walk.”

An hour later Ren climbed th’ rickety stairs of Holt’s hotel and busted th’ lock off their door gittin’ in. Sig is lyin’ on th’ bed, with his leg draped over th’ foot and he’s playin’ “Good Night, Beloved, Good Night,” sort-a soft like on his mouth harp. He rolls his eyes at Ren and lets th’ organ slip out of his hands and slide under th’ bed. He turns over and points at his six-shooter hangin’ on th’ wall.

“Don’t, Ren!” says he sort-a sad like, “I’m unarmed.”

“Yo’re safe,” groans Ren, sinkin’ into uh chair. “I ain’t in no killin’ mood, Sig. I’m borderin’ on uh fit of despondency and I needs sympathy and advice like uh calf needs milk. Honest, I feel like uh Digger Injun would if somebody washed his neck and ears. My liver ain’t noways fresh an’ I feels that my lights is burnin’ low.”

“When I used to be uh lawless character,” stated Sig, as he fumbled under the bed for th’ mouth harp, “‘preachin’ allus affected me thataway. Gospel truths seem to—don’t strike me, Renley!”

Ren slumped down in the chair and held his head in his hands.

“I knowed it, I knowed it! Dang it all, them last two drinks—”

“Did she accept yuh?” grinned Sig.

 Prev. P 5/15 next