But I hit on a plan that was somethin’ won-derful. I follered her out and found where she stalled her hoss. Next day, I borraed a’ outfit and waited nigh her barn till she come in sight. Then, I fell in behind–dressed like one of them blamed grooms.
I thought I was slick, and I was–fer a week. But them park police is rapid on faces. And the first one that got a good square look at me and my togs knowed me instant. He didn’t say nothin’ to me, but loped off. Pretty soon, another one come back–a moustached gent, a right dudey one, with yalla tucks on his sleeves.
He rides square up to me. “Say,” he says, “are you acquainted with that young lady on ahaid?”
I tried to look as sad and innocent as a stray maverick. But it was no go. “Wal,” I answers, “our hosses nicker to each other.”
He pulled at his moustache fer a while. “You ain’t no groom,” he says fin’lly. “Where you from?”
“I’m from the Bar Y Ranch, Oklahomaw.”
“That so!” It seemed to plumb relieve him. All of a suddent, he got as friendly as the devil. “Wal, how’s the stock business?” he ast. And I says, “Cows is O. K.” “And how’s the climate down you’ way? And how’s prospects of the country openin’ up fer farmers?”
After that, I shed the groom duds, and not a police gent ever more ’n nodded at me. That Bar Y news seemed to make ’em shore easy in they conscience.
But that didn’t help me any with her. She was just as offish as ever. Why, one day when it rained, and we got under the same bridge, she just talked to her hoss all the time.
I went home desp’rate. The boys ’d sent me some cash, but I was shy again. And I’d been to the pawnbroker feller’s so many times that I couldn’t look a Jew in the face without takin’ out my watch.