Hamersley gives a shrug of surprise, accompanied with a slight glance of indignation. Walt Wilder in love! With whom can it be? As he can himself think of only one woman worth falling in love with, either in that solitary spot, or elsewhere on earth, it is but natural his thoughts should turn to her.
Only for an instant, however. The idea of having the rough Ranger for a rival is preposterous. Walt, pursuing the theme, soon convinces him he has no such lofty aspirations.
“Beyond a doubt, she’s been an’ goed an’ dud it—that air garl Concheeter. Them shining eyes o’ her’n hev shot clar through this chile’s huntin’ shirt, till thar’s no peace left inside o’ it. I hain’t slep a soun’ wink for mor’en a week o’ nights; all the time dreemin’ o’ the gurl, as ef she war a angel a hoverin’ ’bout my head. Now, Frank, what am I ter do? That’s why I’ve axed ye to kum out hyar, and enter into this confaberlation.”
“Well, Walt, you shall be welcome to my advice. As to what you should do, that’s clear enough; but what you may or can do will depend a good deal on what Miss Conchita says. Have you spoken to her upon the subject?”
“Thar hain’t yit been much talk atween us—i’deed not any, I mout say. Ye know I can’t parley thar lingo. But I’ve approached her wi’ as much skill as I iver did bear or buffler. An’, if signs signerfy anythin’, she ain’t bad skeeart about it. Contrarywise, Frank. If I ain’t terribly mistuk, she shows as ef she’d be powerful willin’ to hev me.”
“If she be so disposed there can’t be much difficulty in the matter. You mean to marry her, I presume?”
“In coorse I duz—that for sartin’. The feelin’s I hev torst that gurl air diffrent to them as one hez for Injun squaws, or the queeries I’ve danced wi’ in the fandangoes o’ San Antone. Ef she’ll agree to be myen, I meen nothin’ short o’ the hon’rable saramony o’ marridge—same as atween man an’ wife. What do ye think o’t?”
“I think, Walt, you might do worse than get married. You’re old enough to become a Benedict, and Conchita appears to be just the sort of girl that would suit you. I’ve heard it said that these Mexican women make the best of wives—when married to Americans.”
Hamersley smiles, as though this thought were pleasant to him.
“There are several things,” he continues, “that it will be necessary for you to arrange before you can bring about the event you’re aiming at. First, you must get the girl’s consent: and, I should think, also that of her master and mistress. They are, as it were, her guardians, and, to a certain extent, responsible for her being properly bestowed. Last of all, you’ll require the sanction of the Church. This, indeed, may be your greatest difficulty. To make you and your sweetheart one, a priest, or Protestant clergyman, will be needed; and neither can be had very conveniently here, in the centre of the Staked Plain.”