“Ma’am,” says he, “I’m sorry to come to see yuh looking like this, but I promised yuh I’d come, and I’d ’a’ done it if it took my last drop of blood. I had a awful fight with a outlaw. All I had was my bare hands and ability against his modern weapons, and of course I didn’t come through unscathed.”
“And the outlaw?” she asks, interested like. “What of him?”
“Ma’am,” Magpie replies, weary-like, “he crawled away to die. Like a animile wounded unto death he crawled out of mortal sight to cash his chips.”
I hears Magpie sigh deep-like again, and then continues:
“Ma’am, I’m—a—a common old coot. I’ve lived alone so long that I can’t seem to release the words that clamors in my bosom to be spoke. Until I seen your face I ain’t given a thought to a double rig. I’m pure in mind and of a forgiving nature. I asks yuh—please don’t smile, ma’am. This is a serious chore with me. I come here for succor——”
“A, Magpie,” I corrects him, aloud. “A sucker.”
There is silence for some time. I hears Magpie’s boots scrape nervous-like on the floor, and he clears his dry throat.
“Did—did you hear somebody speak?” he asks.
She must ’a’ shook her head, ’cause he shuffles his feet again and says:
“Reckon I’m getting jumpy. Well, ma’am, what do yuh think of the proposition?”