So was I, but I dasn’t show it. I warn’t generly so desperately needed by somebody, specially a pretty girl, and for certain I ain’t never run off with one. But I was needful, too. My whole distracted rubbage of a life had got some sense to it all of a sudden. If I warn’t the hero she judged I was, then I would have to fashion up such a person out of my own head and set him out to play the part. “Just tell me, miss,” I says in a low growl like I heard men do in saloons, leaning on their elbows, and then my throat snatched up and I had to clear it and start over again, though it warn’t a growl this time, more like a squeak. “Just tell me when you want to go . . .”
“Oh! I love you, sir,” she says with a little gasp. “You’re so brave and good! Everybody has spoke about the famous Pony Express rider and all they’ve spoke is true! I’ve watched you set your horse so masterful and handsome and twirl your lasso and talk so manly to the others. You’re just the sort of western man that I’ve been dreaming of.” Her pale little hands disappeared behind the flap, and when they come out again, they was holding a shiny cloth which she begged me please to take. “It’s the only nice thing I have left in the whole world. I want you to keep it for me.”
It was a pair of silky drawers edged at the knees with lace. I ain’t never held such a thing in my hands before. It was slippery as a live fish and I had to grab on to it with both hands.
“My father won’t let me wear such finery and says he’d use them for greasing the wagon wheels, except they’re my only dowry. When he’s drunk and acting mean, he still might do that, just in spite. I hope you can take care of them for me till we’re far away from here.” The drawers was like oily water and kept sliding through my fingers before I could catch a-holt. I was afraid I might fail her before we even got started. “Now, please, sir, can you help me cut these ropes? There’s some tied round my ankles, too.”
I was able finally to get a grip onto the lacier bits and stuff the drawers deep inside my shirt so as to give me a free hand to fetch out my clasp knife. My fingers was as useless as mule hoofs, though, and I dropped the knife twice before I could reach for her rawhide ropes, and then I dropped it again. “Give it to me,” she says, falling out of patience, and I done so, just as her pap snorted loud in his sleep and shouted out some cusswords. “Oh no!” she gasps. “He’s waking up! RUN!”
I bounded back to my sleeping tent on all fours like a scared rabbit, the drawers oozing out of my shirt and scrapping the ground under me. I crawled in under the tent and laid there, my heart pounding like it was looking for a way out through my breastbone and feeling most putrified with disgrace. I felt like that stupid Huckleberry in Tom Sawyer’s wild west yarns. Why can’t you never do nothing right, Huck? I could hear him say. I slid her drawers under my head and lit up my pipe and sucked on it a while, but I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t know if I could ever sleep again. But then all of a sudden I did.
I startled up from a beautiful dream about running off somewheres with a pretty girl. I was ever so happy and feeling lucky for the first time in my life. Then I recollected it warn’t a dream without everything was. “I love you, sir,” she said. It was so strange and unregular I couldn’t take it in when it popped out of her. Now, laying there in the dark with the soft chorus of snores all around, I could hear her clear as if she was laying alongside of me. “I love you.” It sent a shiver down my back and made me set up to catch my breath.
I restoked my pipe, tucked the silk drawers under my shirt again, and went for a walk. It was the middle of the night and a million stars was out and it was ever so still and grand. Starlight on the river makes a body feel at home. Starlight on the prairie is dustier and generly makes a body sadful and lonesome. But on that splendid night they was lining out the amazing adventure that me and the girl was starting up that didn’t have no end to it. Only the lonesomeness and sadfulness was ending.