“Yes, sir,” murmured June tremulously, looking down at the hole in her stocking.
“Whilst I n-never yet c-committed matrimony in my own p-person, me being ample provided with t-trouble an’ satisfied with what griefs I already got, yet I’ve run cows off an’ on, an’ so have had workin’ for me several of this sex you’ve now got tangled up with, ma’am,” Blister sailed on cheerfully. “I’ll say the best way to keep ’em contented is to feed ’em good, treat ’em as if they was human, an’ in general give ’em a more or less free rein, dependin’ on their g-general habits an’ cussedness. If that don’t suit a p-puncher I most usually h-hand him his hat an’ say, ‘So long, son, you ’n’ me ain’t c-consanguineously constructed to ride the same range; no hard feelin’s, but if you’re w-wishful to jog on to another outfit I’ll say adios without no tears.’ You can’t g-get rid of yore husband that easy, ma’am, so I’ll recommend the g-good grub, s-seventy-five s-smiles per diem, an’ the aforesaid more or less f-free rein.”
Again June whispered, “Yes, sir,” but this time her honest eyes lifted and went straight into his.
“An’ you.” The justice turned his batteries on the groom. “You w-wanta recollect that this r-road you’ve done chose ain’t no easy one to t-travel. Tenderfoot come in the other day an’ w-wanted to know what kind of a road it was to S-stinking Creek. I tell him it’s a g-good road. Yesterday he come rarin’ in to f-find out what I told him that for. ‘Fellow,’ I says, ‘Fellow, any r-road you can g-get over is a good road in this country.’ It’s t-thataway with marriage, son, an’ don’t you forget it a h-holy minute. Another thing, this being u-united in wedlock ain’t no sinecure.”
“Ain’t no which kind of a sin?” inquired Reeves.
Dud Hollister grinned admiringly. “Blister sure ropes an’ hogties a heap of longhorn words.”
The justice scratched his bald poll and elucidated. “A s-sinecure, boys, is when a f-fellow rides the g-grub line habitual an’ don’t rope no d-dogies for his stack o’ wheats an’ c-coffee.” He wagged a fat forefinger at Bob. “You gotta quit hellin’ around now an’ behave yorese’f like a respectable m-married man. You gotta dig in an’ work. At that you ’n’ the little lady will have yore flareups. When you do, give her the best of it an’ you’ll never be sorry. Tha’s all.”
Blister slid a hand furtively into a drawer of the desk, groped for a moment, then flung a handful of rice over bride and groom.
The newly married couple left the office hurriedly. They did not look at each other. An acute shyness had swept over both of them. They walked to the buckboard, still without speaking.
June opened a perspiring little brown palm in which lay two warm silver dollars. “Here’s yore money,” she said.