Lee’s nod and faint smile, riding on, revealed a queer mixture of happiness and apprehension, which was wiped out by amused astonishment when, just as Gordon came up, a lone figure hove in sight, coming from the opposite direction.
“Why—it’s Sliver!”
And Sliver it was—though difficult to recognize by reason of a complex embroidery of scratches, bumps, and bruises. His own broad grin broke through, however, when Lee inquired after his wife.
“She was fine an’ dandy when I seen her last, which, was in the shank of the evening two nights ago.” Lovingly fingering a huge bump that occupied a central position in his altered scenery, he went into the intimate details of his matrimonial venture. “Till then it had all been lovely. She’d sorter cut up a bit, at first, me an her padre having fixed up the match without any of her ’sistance. But after I’d given her a fair larruping with a saddle strap, jest to show who wore the pants, as the saying goes, she come right into camp; snuggled in like a kitten. Sure, she behaved real domestic till Fernando, that hawk-nosed arriero from San Ramon, blew in with his mules two nights gone. I orter ’a’ suspicioned him, he was that free in handing out drinks. But I didn’t—leastways not till Felicia laid me out with one whack of a cordwood stick from behind. The rest I got from the mirror an’ the padre when I woke next morning and found him doctoring my map. She an’ Fernando had gone off together.”
“She’s gone!” Lee gave a little hysterical laugh. “For good?”
“An’ then some—they’re off to the wars.” Gently massaging the bump, Sliver added: “She’ll stay there if she’s wise. It’ll be a ’tarnation sight less risky than coming back. She was for cutting my throat, but neither the padre nor Fernando would stan’ for that, they being afraid of ‘The Black Devil’ an’ ‘The Python,’ which they call Bull an’ Jake. ‘For I knew, señor, that they would follow us to the ends of the earth if any harm came to thee,’ the old fellow tol’. But they made her free of my map, an’, as you see, she done a good job.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry! I must go back and care for your face.”
With Lee’s exclamation the props trembled beneath the widow’s plot, but Sliver restored their stability. “It’s cheap at the price. Many’s the man up home that gets as bad or worse an’ is stuck, to boot, for lawyer’s fees an’ al’mony. Don’t you bother ’bout me, Lady-girl. All I need is a bit of salve, an’ Maria kin get me that.”
As Sliver rode on, the widow looked at Lee, who returned her meaning glance. Neither looked at Gordon, who discreetly watched Betty. But the thought was the same in the minds of all three. “Thank goodness, she’s gone.”
For a while Lee hesitated and debated whether, after all, she ought not to go back, and she reined in, startled, when a long howl presently drifted over the rise behind which Sliver had disappeared. A coyote, in its death agony, might have equaled the sound. But as, presently, the tortured notes resolved into the opening bars of “The Cowboy’s Lament,” she giggled and rode on for another five miles. Sliver was happy!