"Dunno," said the other; "Turney's a brash young feller, I hear, but
he's game. 'Tain't any of my business, though, and I don't want none
of his contrac'. I'm violently addicted to peace and quiet, I am.
Guess I'll unhitch," and he toddled out into the gathering dusk to
his mules, while the landlord peered uneasily down the darkening
trail.
As the saddened Joy lit candles in the front room there came the
rattle of wheels without, and a buckboard stopped in the bar of light
from the door. Bailey's anxiety was replaced by a mask of listless
surprise as the voice of Ross Turney called to him.
"Hello there, Bailey! Are we in time for supper? If not, I'll start
an insurrection with that Boxer of yours. He's got to turn out the
snortingest supper of the season to-night. It isn't every day your
shack is honoured by a bride. Mr. Bailey, this is my wife, since ten
o'clock A. M." He introduced a blushing, happy girl, evidently in
the grasp of many emotions. "We'll stay all night, I guess,"
"Sure," said Bailey.
Pages:
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132