Leander sighed softly. “I tried to once. As an experiment it partook of the trustfulness of a mule kickin’ against the stony walls of Badger Cañon. But to resoom about the difficulties that split the Dax family. Before Johnnie got mislaid in that matrimonial landslide o’ his, he herds with us. Me an’ him does the work of this yere shack, and my wife just roominates and gives her accomplishments as manager full play. She never put her hand in dirty water any more than Mrs. Cleveland sittin’ up in the White House parlor. Johnnie done the fancy cookin’; he could make a pie like any one’s maw, and while you was lost to the world in the delights of masticatin’ it, he’d have all his greasy dishes washed up and put away—”
“No wonder she hated to lose a man like that,” interrupted the fat lady, feelingly.
“But he took to pinin’ and proclaimin’ that he shore was a lone maverick, and he just stampeded round lookin’ for trouble and bleatin’ a song that went:
“‘No one to love,
None to caress.’
“Well, the lady that answers his signal of distress don’t bear none of the brands of this yere range. She lives back East, and him and her took up their claims in each other’s affections through a matrimonial paper known as The Heart and Hand. So they takes their pens in hand and gets through a hard spell of courtin’ on paper. Love plumb locoes Johnnie. His spellin’ don’t suit him, his handwritin’ don’t suit him, his natchral letters don’t suit him. So off he sends to Denver for all the letter-writin’ books he can buy—Handbook of Correspondence, The Epistolary Guide, The Ready Letter-Writer, and a stack more. There’s no denyin’ it, Johnnie certainly did sweat hisself over them letters.”
“Land’s sakes!” said the fat lady.
“Yes, marm; he used to read ’em to me, beginnin’ how he had just seized five minutes to write to her, when he’d worked the whole day like a mule over it. She seemed to like the brand, an’ when he sent her the money to come out here an’ get married, she come as straight as if she had been mailed with a postage-stamp.”
“The brazen thing!” said the fat lady.
“They stopped here, goin’ home to their place. My Lord! warn’t she a high-flyer! She done her hair like a tied-up horse-tail—my wife called it a Sikey knot—and it stood out a foot from her head. Some of the boys, kinder playful, wanted to throw a hat at it and see if it wouldn’t hang, but they refrained, out of respect to the feelin’s of the groom.
“From the start,” continued Leander, “the two Mrs. Daxes just hankered to get at each other; an’ while I, as a slave to the fair sex”—here he bowed to the fat lady and to Miss Carmichael—“hesitates to use such langwidge in their presence, the attitood of them two female wimmin shorely reminds me of a couple of unfriendly dawgs just hankerin’ to chaw each other.