"If you sell me anything," sez I, smilin' as near like a baby as I
could, "you'll have to trust me, 'cause I'm dead broke." She just stood
an' looked in through my face; an' I tell ya, boys, I was mighty glad
that in all this rip-snortin' world the' wasn't one single woman who
could rise up an' say that I hadn't played fair. She kept on lookin'
into me, until I knew she was readin' everything I had ever done or
said or thought, an' the sweat was tricklin' down my back like meltin'
snow.
"Yes," she sez finally, "I can trust you."
"Don't you never doubt it," sez I. "All you need to do is to issue the
orders, an' if I don't carry 'em out, why, just tell the folks not to
send flowers. I ain't long on talk, but I'll agree to carry out any
plan you've got, from ditchin' a limited to shootin' up a Methodist
Church. That's me," sez I, "an' now let's have the news."
Talk about bein' surprised! I thought she had a fence war on her hands
at the least; but what she wanted me to do was to take care of a gentle
old pair o' hosses, milk a cow, tend a garden, cut the grass, an' help
around the house. By the time she finished the program, I felt like a
fightin' bulldog when a week-old kitten spits at him. Here I was,
willin' to leave my hide tacked up on her barn, an' all she wanted was
a kind of lady-gardener. I just sort o' wilted down on the steps, an' I
must 'a' turned pale, 'cause she said to me, "Why, you must be hungry.
Haven't you had your breakfast?"
"Oh, yes," sez I, "day before yesterday."
Then she begun to rustle about an' fix me up a snack, an' I was glad I
had followed the finger o' Fate. The bill o' fare seemed altogether
adapted to my disposition.
While I was fillin' up the chinks an' crevices, she dealt out a
varigated assortment of facts. It seemed they lived there on account o'
the health o' the baby. Her husband had had to go East, an' would be
there some six weeks longer. When he had left, she had an Irish cook,
an' a Chinaman as polite as an insurance agent; but as soon as he was
gone, the Chink began to take liberties, the cook packed up her brogue
an' headed for an inhabited community, an' then the Chink concluded
that all he saw was his'n. She finally took a brace a' told him to hit
the trail, an' he had gone off, vowin' to come back an' burn down the
whole place. This was her first year there, an' the closest neighbor
was seven miles across country, an' not well acquainted.
She expected her cousin in a week or so, but as it was, she was
beginnin' to have trouble with her nerves. Then I was glad that I had
made her my little openin' address, 'cause she had joyfulled up like a
desert poney when he smells water.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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