“I just didn’t have the courage to. I should never have told you what I have, only I think I owe it to you, and it was easier because of the Holts. I am so glad we met them.”
So we drove along, talking together; we each assured the girl of our entire willingness to have her as a member of the family. After a while I got on to the wagon with Mr. Stewart and told him Elizabeth’s story so that he could inquire about the man. Soon we came to the crossing on Green River. Just beyond the ford we could see the game-warden’s cabin, with the stars and stripes fluttering gayly in the fresh morning breeze. We drove into the roaring, dashing water, and we held our breath until we emerged on the other side.
Mr. Sorenson is a very capable and conscientious game-warden and a very genial gentleman. He rode down to meet us, to inspect our license and to tell us about our privileges and our duties as good woodsmen. He also issues licenses in case hunters have neglected to secure them before coming. Mrs. O’Shaughnessy had refused to get a license when we did. She said she was not going to hunt; she told us we could give her a small piece of “ilk” and that would do; so we were rather surprised when she purchased two licenses, one a special, which would entitle her to a bull elk. As we were starting Mr. Stewart asked the game-warden, “Can you tell me if Wallace White is still stationed here?” “Oh, yes,” Mr. Sorenson said, “Wallace’s place is only a few miles up the river and can be plainly seen from the road.”
We drove on. Happiness had taken a new clutch upon my heart. I looked back, expecting to see Elizabeth all smiles, but if you will believe me the foolish girl was sobbing as if her heart was broken. Mrs. O’Shaughnessy drew her head down upon her shoulder and was trying to quiet her. The road along there was very rough. Staying on the wagon occupied all my attention for a while. Several miles were passed when we came in sight of a beautiful cabin, half hidden in a grove of pines beyond the river. Mr. Stewart said we might as well “noon” as soon as we came to a good place, and then he would ride across and see Mr. White.
Just as we rounded the hill a horseman came toward us. A splendid fellow he was, manly strength and grace showing in every line. The road was narrow against the hillside and he had to ride quite close, so I saw his handsome face plainly. As soon as he saw Elizabeth he sprang from his saddle and said, “’Liz’beth, ’Liz’beth, what you doin’ here?”
She held her hands to him and said, “Oh, just riding with friends.” Then to Mrs. O’Shaughnessy she said, “This is my Wallace.”
Mr. Stewart is the queerest man: instead of letting me enjoy the tableau, he solemnly drove on, saying he would not want any one gawking at him if he were the happy man. Anyway, he couldn’t urge Chub fast enough to prevent my seeing and hearing what I’ve told you. Besides that, I saw that Elizabeth’s hat was on awry, her hair in disorder, and her eyes red. It was disappointing after she had been so careful to look nicely.
Mrs. O’Shaughnessy came trotting along and we stopped for dinner. We had just got the coffee boiling when the lovers came up, Elizabeth in the saddle, “learning to ride,” and he walking beside her holding her hand. How happy they were! The rest of us were mighty near as foolish as they. They were going to start immediately after dinner, on horseback, for the county seat, to be married. After we had eaten, Elizabeth selected a few things from her trunk, and Mr. Stewart and Mr. White drove the buckboard across the river to leave the trunk in its new home. While they were gone we helped Elizabeth to dress. All the while Mrs. O’Shaughnessy was admonishing her to name her first “girul” Mary Ellen; “or,” she said, “if yer first girul happens to be a b’y, it’s Sheridan ye’ll be callin’ him, which was me name before I was married to me man, God rest his soul.”
Dear Elizabeth, she was glad to get away, I suspect! She and her Wallace made a fine couple as they rode away in the golden September afternoon. I believe she is one happy bride that the sun shone on, if the omen has failed everywhere else.
Well, we felt powerfully reduced in numbers, but about three o’clock that afternoon we came upon Mr. Struble and Mr. Haynes waiting beside the road for us. They had come to pilot us into camp, for there would be no road soon.