“Well, I'm told getting married unstrings some men.” He aimed, and the snake was shattered. “Maybe it's too early yet for the unstringing to begin!” And with some deliberation he sent three more bullets into the snake. “I reckon that's enough,” said he.
“Was not the first one?”
“Oh, yes, for the snake.” And then, with one leg crooked cow-boy fashion across in front of his saddle-horn, he cleaned his pistol, and replaced the empty cartridges.
Once more she ventured near the line of his reticence. “Has—has Trampas seen you much lately?”
“Why, no; not for a right smart while. But I reckon he has not missed me.”
The Virginian spoke this in his gentlest voice. But his rebuffed sweetheart turned her face away, and from her eyes she brushed a tear.
He reined his horse Monte beside her, and upon her cheek she felt his kiss. “You are not the only mind-reader,” said he, very tenderly. And at this she clung to him, and laid her head upon his breast. “I had been thinking,” he went on, “that the way our marriage is to be was the most beautiful way.”
“It is the most beautiful,” she murmured.
He slowly spoke out his thought, as if she had not said this. “No folks to stare, no fuss, no jokes and ribbons and best bonnets, no public eye nor talkin' of tongues when most yu' want to hear nothing and say nothing.”
She answered by holding him closer.