“What’s the matter hyar?” He ran rapid eye over wagon and animals and saw nothing amiss.
“Mrs. Montoyo wishes to ride.”
“The hell, man!” He snatched whip and launched it, up the faltering team. The cracker popped an inch above the off lead mule’s cringing haunch twenty feet before. “You can’t stop hyar! Can’t hold the rest of the train. Joe! Baldy! Hep 200 with you!” The team straightened out; he restored me the whip. His wrath subsided, for in less dudgeon he addressed her.
“Want to ride, do ye?”
“I did, sir.”
“Wall, in Gawd’s name ride, then. But we don’t stop for passengers.”
With that, in another white heat he had picked her up bodily, swung her upon the nearest mule; so that before she knew (she scarce had time to utter an astonished little ejaculation as she yielded to his arms) there she was, perched, breathless, upon the sweaty hide. I awaited results.
Jenks chuckled.
“What you need is an old feller, lady. These young bucks ain’t broke to the feed canvas. Now when you want to get off you call me. You don’t weigh more’n a peck of beans.”
With a bantering wink at me he again fell back. Once more I had been forestalled. There should be no third time.