A Texas Matchmaker | Page 7

induced to depart from his usual custom, and
wear his trousers outside his boots. Then we had to pull the boots off
and polish them clear up to the ears in order to make him presentable.
But we were in no particular hurry about starting, as we expected to out
across the country and would overtake the ambulance at the mouth of
the Arroyo Seco in time for the noonday lunch. There were six in our
party, consisting of Dan Happersett, Aaron Scales, John Cotton, June
Deweese, Uncle Lance, and myself. With the exception of Deweese,
who was nearly twenty-five years old, the remainder of the boys on the
ranch were young fellows, several of whom besides myself had not yet
attained their majority. On ranch work, in the absence of our employer,
June was recognized as the segundo of Los Palomas, owing to his age
and his long employment on the ranch. He was a trustworthy man, and
we younger lads entertained no envy towards him.
It was about nine o'clock when we mounted our horses and started. We
jollied along in a party, or separated into pairs in cross-country riding,
covering about seven miles an hour. "I remember," said Uncle Lance,

as we were riding in a group, "the first time I was ever at Shepherd's
Ferry. We had been down the river on a cow hunt for about three weeks
and had run out of bacon. We had been eating beef, and venison, and
antelope for a week until it didn't taste right any longer, so I sent the
outfit on ahead and rode down to the store in the hope of getting a piece
of bacon. Shepherd had just established the place at the time, and when
I asked him if he had any bacon, he said he had, 'But is it good?' I
inquired, and before he could reply an eight-year-old boy of his stepped
between us, and throwing back his tow head, looked up into my face
and said: 'Mister, it's a little the best I ever tasted.'"
"Now, June," said Uncle Lance, as we rode along, "I want you to let
Henry Annear's wife strictly alone to-night. You know what a stink it
raised all along the river, just because you danced with her once, last
San Jacinto day. Of course, Henry made a fool of himself by trying to
borrow a six-shooter and otherwise getting on the prod. And I'll admit
that it don't take the best of eyesight to see that his wife to-day thinks
more of your old boot than she does of Annear's wedding suit, yet her
husband will be the last man to know it. No man can figure to a
certainty on a woman. Three guesses is not enough, for she will and she
won't, and she'll straddle the question or take the fence, and when you
put a copper on her to win, she loses. God made them just that way, and
I don't want to criticise His handiwork. But if my name is Lance
Lovelace, and I'm sixty-odd years old, and this a chestnut horse that I'm
riding, then Henry Annear's wife is an unhappy woman. But that fact,
son, don't give you any license to stir up trouble between man and wife.
Now, remember, I've warned you not to dance, speak to, or even notice
her on this occasion. The chances are that that locoed fool will come
heeled this time, and if you give him any excuse, he may burn a little
powder."
June promised to keep on his good behavior, saying: "That's just what
I've made up my mind to do. But look'ee here: Suppose he goes on the
war path, you can't expect me to show the white feather, nor let him run
any sandys over me. I loved his wife once and am not ashamed of it,
and he knows it. And much as I want to obey you, Uncle Lance, if he
attempts to stand up a bluff on me, just as sure as hell's hot there'll be a

strange face or two in heaven."
I was a new man on the ranch and unacquainted with the facts, so
shortly afterwards I managed to drop to the rear with Dan Happersett,
and got the particulars. It seems that June and Mrs. Annear had not
only been sweethearts, but that they had been engaged, and that the
engagement had been broken within a month of the day set for their
wedding, and that she had married Annear on a three weeks'
acquaintance. Little wonder Uncle Lance took occasion to read the riot
act to his segundo in the interests of peace. This was all news to me,
but secretly I wished June courage and a good aim if it ever came to