“She ain’t a widow yet, but she may be a’fore long.”
“Married?”
“The same answer. Not yet, but right apt to be.”
“How old is she?”
“Why, I don’t know. Plenty of cows we got in that herd is a heap older than she is.”
“And you’re taking a girl through to Abilene!”
“What’s wrong with Aberlene, friend?”
“Well,” admitted McCoyne, “we got eight saloons and five gambling palaces now; a good many railroad men and skin hunters and people like that hang around. It might be a little bit swift if you ain’t used to traveling fast.”
“What you say sounds cheerful. We’d like to wet the dust in our throats and play a few cards in a innocent way.”
“I wouldn’t say that Abilene ain’t safe,” argued the market man. “We got the best town marshal in Kansas, or are going to have if we can get him away from Hays City. Wild Bill Hickok is his name. He’s the best shot in Kansas.”