I seen her start down then. Billy and his wife got up, too. So did the crowd, still a-laughin’ and a-hootin’.
I kinda backed a bit. When I reached the stairs, I went slower, feelin’ my way. Minute and I come out onto Silverstein’s hind porch. Nobody was there, so I went over to the edge and lent agin a’ upright.
Right back of Silverstein’s they’s a line of hitchin’-posts. Two hosses was fastened there when I come, but it was so dark, and I felt so kinda bad, that I didn’t notice the broncs partic-ular. Till, ’round the corner, towards ’em, come that Simpson. Next, walkin’ slow and lookin’ down–Macie.
But she got onto her hoss quick, and without no help. All the time, Bugsey was a-fussin’ with his mustang. But the critter was nervous, and wasn’t no easy job. Macie waited. She was nighest to me, and right in line with the light from a winda. I could see her face plain. But I couldn’t tell how she was feelin’,–put out, ’r quiet, ’r just kinda tired.
Simpson got into the saddle then, his hoss rearin’ and runnin’. He could steer a gasoline wagon, but he couldn’t handle a cayuse. He turned to holler: “Comin’, Miss Sewell?”
She said she was, but she started awful slow, and kinda peered back, and up to the hall. At the same time, she must ’a’ saw that they was a man on the back porch, ’cause she pulled in a little, lookin’ hard.
I felt that rope a-drawin’ me then. I couldn’t ’a’ kept myself from goin’ to her. I started down. “Miss Macie!” I says; “Miss Macie!”
“Why,–why, Mister Lloyd!” She wheeled her hoss. “Is that you?”
I went acrosst the yard to where she was. “Yas,–it’s me,” I says.
She lent down towards me a little. “You been awful good to me,” she says. “I know. It was you got all them votes. Hairoil said so.”