“Then can’t I go, too? I don’t want to be left alone here and you away fighting.”
Bucky’s eyes gleamed. He dared an experiment in an indifferent drawl. “Whyfor don’t you want to stay alone, kid? Are you afraid for yourself or for me?”
His partner’s cheeks were patched with roses. Shyly the long, thick lashes lifted and let the big brown eyes meet his blue ones. “Maybe I’m afraid for both of us.”
“Would you care if one of their pills happened along in the scrimmage and put me out of business? Honest, would you?”
“You haven’t any right to talk that way. It’s cruel,” was the reply that burst from the pretty lips, and he noticed that at his suggestion the roses had died from soft cheeks.
“Well, I won’t talk that way any more, little partner,” he answered gaily, taking the small hand in his. “For reasons good. I’m fire-proof. The Mexican bullet hasn’t been cast yet that can find Bucky O’Connor’s heart.”
“But you mustn’t think that, either, and be reckless,” was the next injunction. The shy laugh rang like music. “That’s why I want to go along, to see that you behave yourself properly.”
“Oh, I’ll behave,” he laughed; for the young man found it very easy to be happy when those sweet eyes were showing concern for him. “I’ve got several good reasons why I don’t aim to get bumped off just yet. Heaps of first-rate reasons. I’ll tell you what some of them are one of these days,” he dared to add.
“You had better tell me now.” The gaze that fell before his steady eyes was both shy and eager.
“No, I reckon I’ll wait, Curly,” he answered, turning away with a long breath. “Well, we better go out and get some grub, tortillas and frijoles, don’t you think?”