“Helen was real kind to him,” remarked the spinster. “She bathed his wound and bandaged it. Spoiled her very best skirt, too.”
“You’re a good girl, Sis,” Shields said, looking fondly at the beautiful girl at his side. His arm went around her shoulder and he affectionately patted her cheek. “I’m proud of you, and we’ll have to see if we can’t get another ‘very best skirt,’ too.” Then he laughed: “But I’ll bet he blesses the warrior who fired that shot–he’s not used to having pretty girls fuss about him.”
Mary looked quickly at her sister. “Why, Helen! You’ve lost your gold pin! Where do you suppose it has gone? I’ll look in the stage for it before we forget about it. Dear me, dear me,” she cried as she entered the vehicle, “this has indeed been a terrible day!”
Bill grinned and turned toward his team. “I reckon she’ll find it some day,” he said in a low aside as he passed the sheriff. “I’ll just bet she does. It’ll be in at the finish of a whole lot of things, and people, too, you bet,” he added enigmatically.
Shields looked quickly at the driver, his face brightened and he smiled knowingly at the words. “I reckon it will; fool punchers, for instance?”
Bill turned his head and one eye closed in an emphatic wink. “Keno,” he replied.
Mary bustled out again, very much agitated. “I can’t find it. Where do you suppose you lost it, dear? I’ve looked everywhere in the stage.”
“Probably back where we stopped before,” Helen replied quietly. “We were so agitated that we would never have noticed it if it slipped down.”
“Well–” began Mary.
“No use going back for it, Miss Shields,” promptly interrupted Bill from his high seat. “We just couldn’t find it in all that trampled sand, not if we hunted all week for it with a comb.”