FullReads

“‘It’s what I says awhile back,’ interrupts Enright. ‘Texas Thompson’s wife’s motives mighty likely ain’t invidious none. It’s a heap probable if the trooth is known, that she ain’t aimin’ nothin’ speshul at Texas; she only changes her mind. About the earliest event I remembers,’ goes on Enright, ‘is concernin’ a woman who changes her mind. It’s years ago when I’m a yearlin’. Our company is makin’ a round-up at a camp called Warwhoop Crossin’, in Tennessee, organizin’ to embark in the Mexican war a whole lot, an’ thin out the Greasers. No one ever does know why I, personal, declar’s myse’f in on this yere imbroglio. I ain’t bigger ‘n a charge of powder, an’ that limited as to laigs I has to clamber onto a log to mount my pony.

“‘But as I’m tellin’, we-alls comes together at Warwhoop to make the start. I reckons now thar’s five hundred people thar. ”Which the occasion, an’ the interest the public takes in the business, jest combs the region of folks for miles about.

“‘Thar’s a heap of hand-shakin’ an’ well-wishin’ goin’ on; mothers an’ sisters, an’ sweethearts is kissin’ us good-bye; an’ while thar’s some hilarity thar’s more sobs. It’s not, as I looks back’ard, what you-alls would call a gay affair.

“‘While all this yere love an’ tears is flowin’, thar’s a gent–he’s our Captain–who’s settin’ off alone in his saddle, an’ ain’t takin’ no hand. Thar’s no sweetheart, no mother, no sister for him.

“‘No one about Warwhoop knows this yere party much; more’n his name is Bent. He’s captain with the Gov’nor’s commission, an’ comes from ‘way-off yonder some’ers. An’ so he sets thar, grim an’ solid in his saddle, lookin’ vague-like off at where the trees meets the sky, while the rest of us is goin’ about permiscus, finishin’ up our kissin’.

“‘”Ain’t he got no sweetheart to wish goodbye to him?” asks a girl of me. “Ain’t thar no one to kiss him for good luck as he rides away?”

“‘This yere maiden’s name is Sanders, an’ it’s a shore fact she’s the prettiest young female to ever make a moccasin track in West Tennessee. I’d a-killed my pony an’ gone afoot to bring sech a look into her eyes, as shines thar when she gazes at the Captain where he’s silent an’ sol’tary on his hoss.

“‘No,” I replies, “he’s a orphan, I reckons. He’s plumb abandoned that a-way, an’ so thar’s nobody yere to kiss him, or shake his hand.”

“‘This yere pretty Sanders girl–an’ I’m pausin’ ag’in to state she’s a human sunflower, that a-way–this Sanders beauty, I’m sayin’, looks at this party by himse’f for a moment, an’ then the big tears begins to well in her blue eyes. She blushes like a sunset, an’ walks over to this yere lone gent.

“‘Mister Captain,” she says, raisin’ her face to him like a rose, “I’m shore sorry you ain’t got no sweetheart to say ‘good-bye;’ an’ bein’ you’re lonesome, that a-way, I’ll kiss you an’ say adios myse’f.”

“‘Will you, my little lady?” says the lonesome Captain, as he swings from his saddle to the ground by her side; an’ thar’s sunshine in his eyes.

“‘I’ll think of you every day for that,”he says, when he kisses her, “an’ if I gets back when the war’s done, I’ll shorely look for you yere.”

“‘The little Sanders girl–she is shorely as handsome as a ace full on kings–blushes a heap vivid at what she’s done, an’ looks warm an’ tender. Which, while the play is some onusual an’ out of line, everybody agrees it’s all right; bein’ that we-alls is goin’ to a war, that a-way.

“‘Now yere,’ goes on Enright, at the same time callin’ for red-eye all ’round, ‘ is what youalls agrees is a mighty romantic deal. Yere’s a love affair gets launched.’

“‘Does this yere lone-hand gent who gets kissed by the Sanders lady outlive the war?’ asks Texas Thompson, who has braced up an’ gets mighty vivacious listenin’ to the story.