“Sho!” exclaimed Ira. “What started you thinkin’ that?”
“Well ye know thet hoss of Steve’s is a mighty good piece of flesh, as good as you’ll find about here, and old Pedro was tellin’ me that Hero was in the bunch of hosses they tried to take that night. They’d ha’ got him, too, if the gals hadn’t winged their man. Hero had sense enough to go back to his stable ’stid o’ follerin’ the other hosses, and I’ve heerd Cy admire Steve’s hoss more’n once. Ever take notice to thet scar on Cy’s forehead? Looks mightily like a bullet wound. I’ve hed my suspicions that Cy was mixed up in that. The gals wasn’t so hot foot after gettin’ a-holt of the man, and puttin’ this an’ that together——”
“And knowin’ old Cy’s reputation.”
“Yes, sir, an’ knowin’ that.”
“Well it ain’t out of reason,” said Ira. “But I guess for Lou’s sake we better not play detective any further. What you reckon old Jabe Manypenny’s doin’ shinin’ ’round Cy’s? ’Pears to me he’s struck up a mighty suddent friendship there. It made my dander riz up to see the ole blear-eyed sinner settin’ there gapin’ at Lou.”
“Lou ain’t got no eyes fur him,” said Bud, “not when some other folks is around, but I reckon ole Jabe wouldn’t mind some of Lou’s messes bein’ stirred up in his kitchen. A man’s stummick is a powerful argymint fer matrimony, I’ve remarked, and old Jabe ain’t above a weakness that ketches a-holt of the younger bucks.”
“Humph! I’d like to see Lou stirrin’ up messes in his kitchin,” said Ira disgustedly. “She’s mos’ too good fer any of us, but when it comes to a ole yaller-faced atomy like him I’ll see myself in Jericho before I’ll step out of his way.”
“Ye’d better be spruntin’ up then,” said Bud, “’er some other feller’s picter’ll git prominent in her mind an’ when you git back from the front yer prospecks fer eatin’ hearty fer the rest of yer life’ll be slimmer’n what they are now.”
Ira was very silent for some time after this speech. Like many of the adventurers into Texas, he had little ambition beyond living a wild free life. A good time with the boys, a dash out upon an Indian trail, days of hunting, a fandango with some bonita señorita, constituted the employments to which he devoted himself. He had his own land grant, a little cabin where he stayed long enough in a year to make good his claim to his property, a couple of horses, his rifle and a dog, and that was about all he cared to possess. The idea of settling down to clear land, to acquire stock and to become a family man had never been seriously considered. But now with Jabez Manypenny appearing as a rival all the pugnaciousness in Ira arose. He would not be beaten. Jabez owned many acres, a fine lot of stock, a good and roomy house. He was reputed a rich man, a widower of two years’ standing, and with no nearer relatives than married sisters somewhere in “the States.” Ira pondered over the situation. To snatch Louisa from both Cyrus and Jabez would be a fine stroke. But there was the war going on, he must join his company, and if he had the luck to come back unscathed what had he to offer a girl like Louisa? As he considered the matter her charms seemed to increase, and his own chances to decrease. He drew so long a sigh that Bud laughed.
“Ye heave like ole Ben Hoke’s ole hoss,” he said. “What’s wrong with yer lungs?”