"'It's too many for me,' he says. 'If it's me, now, I'd have clung to that blessed baby till the cows come home. They must shore be deeficient in taste, them Laredo yahoos!'
"As exhibitin' how soon bein' moved into cel'bration as a uncle begins to tell on Texas he ups an' in the fullness of his vanity deecides, even before he arrives at Laredo, ag'inst the scheme which the camp's half laid out about the Frenches an' Annalinda, an' arranges 273 to have a 'doby of his own. It's a blow to the Frenches, too, for since we notifies 'em, they has set their hearts on the racket.
"But Texas is immov'ble.
"'Ed's dyin',' says he, 'an' namin' me to be reespons'ble for Annalinda, creates a sityooation best met by me havin' a wickeyup of my own. I'm sorry to disapp'int, but after matoore reeflection, that a-way, I've conclooded to play a lone hand.'
"While he's away Texas goes projectin' 'round an' cuts out a couple of old black mammies from a day nursery over in Dallas, an' brings 'em along. They an' Annalinda rides over from Tucson in the stage; but, bein' more familiar with the saddle, an' because he's better able tharfrom to soopervise an' go dictatin' terms to Monte, he himse'f comes on his pony.
"'An', gents,' whines Monte, as, throwin' down the reins, he heads for the Red Light bar, 'between us he ain't the same Texas. That Annalinda child has shore changed him turrible. All the way from Tucson, when he ain't crowdin' up to the wheel to give orders to them Senegambians about how to hold or 274 when to feed her, he's menacin' at me. That's why I'm three hours late. At rough places it looks like thar ain't no name mean enough for him to call me; an' once, when the front wheel jolts into a chuckhole an' Annalinda sets up a squall, he pulls a gun an' threatens in the most frenzied way to shoot me up. "You be more careful," he roars, "or I'll blow you plumb off your perch! Childhood, that a-way, is a fragile flower; an' if you figgers I'll set yere an', in the tender instance of my own pers'nal niece, see some booze-besotted drunkard break that flower short off at the stalk, I'll fool you up a whole lot." An' do you-all know,' Monte concloodes, almost with a sob, 'he never does let down the hammer of his .45 ag'in for most a mile.'
"Annalinda is plumb pretty. The whole camp goes her way like a landslide. Tucson Jennie approves of her––with reeservations, of course, in favor of little Enright Peets; Missis Rucker finds time to snatch a few moments, between feedin' us an' bossin' Rucker, to go see her every day; while, as for Nell, she's in an' out of Texas' 'doby mornin', noon an' night to sech extents that half the time Cherokee ain't got no lookout, an' when he has it's Boggs.
"HIM AN' ANNALINDA SHORE DO CONSTITOOTE A PICTURE. 'THAR'S A PA'R TO DRAW TO,' SAYS NELL TO TEXAS, HER EYES LIKE BROWN DIAMONDS." p. 281.