“What d’you reckon to do—put an ad in the paper ‘Wanted, a husband’?”
“Never you mind,” Bull quietly replied to the cynical comment. “I’m going, to-morrow, up to El Paso.”
[X: WANTED—A HUSBAND]
Departures are usually cheerless affairs, but the morning sun loosed a flood of gold into the patio where the party was in process of dissolution. William Benson had left with Jake and Sliver, when they went out on the range, so Bull sat and smoked alone.
It was very pleasant there. His after-breakfast pipe was always the sweetest of the day, and while puffing contentedly Bull observed with an indulgent grin two small brown criadas, darting with needle and thread and pins from room to room with first-aid-to-injured habits; the transparent flirtations, stealthy glances after the girls came out; the beauty of innocent sex, of youth in love—set his big rough heart aglow. The girls, with keen instinct for honest feeling, felt it. The young men, with natural respect for quiet power, admired his kindliness and strength. Their farewells and invitations were hearty and sincere.
“You’ve promised and promised and never come yet—that is, for a real visit,” Phœbe and Phyllis rebuked him.
The young men earnestly charged him, “We look to you to take care of our girls till we’re in shape to look after them ourselves.”
Not till the Icarzas bid him good-by did that kindly glow fade. Even when Isabel slid a small soft hand into his huge paw and turned on him the full power of her big Spanish eyes while uttering lovely felicities, he remained non-committal. He frowned hearing Lee accept an invitation for a visit in the near future. But when she came in, after they left, the hostile look had faded.
“Oh, didn’t we have a lovely time?” She patted his arm. “And it was all due to you.”
“And now I’ll take my pay. I want to go up to El Paso.”