“She’s fine,” grins Ren. “I seen her and Ricky Henderson ridin’ along th’ Dancin’ Prairie trail twice this week, and I hears that she’s furnishin’ Buck Masterson with uh clean napkin at each meal. Buck’s uh changed man, Sigismund. He’s usin’ ba’r ile on his boots and bay rum on his head.”
“That ol’ pelican?” yells Sig. “If that’s all that’s tryin’ to beat my time I’m as good as married right now.”
“I hates to tell yuh,” states Ren sadly, “but them Piperock fellers, takin’ em as uh tribe, are shore beatin’ yore time with Rosalind. I reckon you made uh hit th’ first time she ever saw yuh, but she’s heard too much agin’ yuh since. I done talked with her and I finds out that she’s partial to heroes. Sabe? Nothin’ but uh heero need apply, and, Sig, there ain’t no use you tryin’ to be one uh them.
“Anyway, yuh can’t see her before Monday. She went down to Curlew uh few days ago, and said she would be back Monday afternoon on th’ stage.”
“Likes heroes, eh?” mused Sig. “Jist about what causes uh man to be uh hero?”
“Uh heero,” states Ren, “is uh feller who does jist what any one else would have done in his place, but he beat ’em to it. Sabe? He allus saves th’ girl.”
“Saves th’ girl, eh?” Sig runs his fingers down th’ creases in his chaps and thinks deeply.
“Ren, I got a idea.”
“Shoot.”
“I’ll save Rosalind.”