“Couldn’t be any worse than Rosa’s,” Jake comforted. “You managed to live on that.”
With a certain resignation, but still grumbling, Sliver set out next morning. To make sure that he followed program, Jake and Bull packed his kit and even escorted him a mile or two on his way. Throughout all these preliminaries, Sliver’s mien was rather that of chief mourner at a funeral than a groom on his way to his bride, and just before they left him he even advanced a belated plea.
“Don’t you allow we ked get some one else?”
“With all the men in the country off at the wars?” Bull shook his head. “Besides, no peon could hold her down. She needs a strong hand.”
“It’s either you or Gordon,” Jake added. “You’ll have to sacrifice.”
Not until they turned homeward after his lone figure had faded behind the next rise did they consider how the affair was to be broken to Lee. “’Tain’t going to be so dreadful easy,” Bull frowned thoughtfully, “she being a girl and prejudiced. She’d hardly cotton to sech primitive nupt’als as Sliver is likely to consummate.”
“I she’d think not!” Jake looked his horror and scorn. “You’ll make a mess of it. Better leave it to me.”
Bull was quite willing, but though he had looked for some embroidery on the bare facts, the woof of romance Jake wove through the warp of fact at lunch that day made him choke on his food and gasp. A tale of secret love and stealthy visitations, a reluctant lady gradually won, ornamented with priests and licenses and other trimmings necessary for feminine approval, were woven into a consistent narrative that proved how much Bacchus gained and the Muses lost when Jake enlisted in the former’s service.
“No, Missy, you ain’t a-going to lose him,” Bull answered, on his part, Lee’s troubled question. “He’ll take care of things over that way.”
“Well—” Lee laughed, a little choked laugh, “I hope he’ll be—happy.” Then becoming conscious of Gordon’s gaze, she dropped her glance to her plate. But not before he had read its meaning.