As it was, she made the best of a bad matter by
throwing all the gentle good nature possible into her voice, and she
was rewarded by seeing McGuire jerk up his head and jerk down his
glance at her. At the same time, he crimsoned to the eyes, changing
his weathered complexion to a flaring, reddish-brown.
"Prison-guard?" said McGuire. "Me?"
"Well," answered Marianne, "that's the truth, isn't it? You're the
guard and I'm the prisoner?"
"I'm watching these hosses," said McGuire. "That's all. They ain't no
money could hire me to guard a woman."
"Really?" said Marianne.
"Sure. I used to have a wife. I know."
She laughed, a little hysterically, but McGuire treated the mirth as
a compliment to his jest and joined in with a tremendous guffaw. His
eyes were still wet with mirth as she said: "Too bad you have to waste
time like this, with such a fine warm day for sleeping. Couldn't you
trust the corral bars to take care of the horses?"
His glance twinkled with understanding. It was plain that he
appreciated her point and the way she made it.
"Them hosses are feeling their oats," said McGuire. "Can't tell what
they'd be up to the minute I turned my back on 'em.
Pages:
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263