In the afternoon Johnson called on Miss Hawes at the Cowboys' Rest, where she bathed dishes and did other useful tasks. She was wearing a pink dress with the neck cut low, and looked very neat and wholesome. Nobody but a woman would have guessed that she had expected him.
The sight of her put the finishing touches to Lafe. Within half an hour, he was lost in speculation as to whether he could command sixty dollars a month if he went to work for the Lazy L. And perhaps he might be given the Ajos camp, with its comfortable adobe house and rosebushes in the yard? He pictured her there. Lafe could almost hear the wild doves cooing in the scrub-oak cañon.
Grace made him sing.
Come, all you wild rovers, pay 'tention to me
While I tell to you my sad historee.
I'm a man of experience, no favors to gain;
Love's been the ruin of many a man.
He droned it through his nose, with sharp yelps at the end of each line, like a coyote in the full swing of his nightly paroxysm.
"I don't like that song," she said decidedly. "Cut it out. It's fierce."
"I reckon it ain't true," Lafe admitted lamely, and tried another, a plaintive ditty of Little Joe, the horse wrangler.
Hardly had he finished than Moffatt knocked and was admitted. Steve had on a new, yellow silk neckerchief, and Johnson cursed his want of foresight in not purchasing some finery. To-morrow that would be rectified: he recalled a green one he had seen in the store window.
The gunfighter let two six-shooters slip from his waist when he entered, depositing them carefully on a chair. Local ordinances do not permit the carrying of firearms in Badger, and Johnson was interested.
"You travel well heeled?" he remarked.