Forsythe was loquacious to a fault; he would pat Gus's shoulder and talk his arm off about any number of topics that held no interest for him, but this morning he seemed annoyed by Gus's question.
"Sorry to disturb you, I just wondered if Clara was sick--I had the fear that she might have taken ill while we were gone," Gus said.
"Oh no, Clara's healthy as a horse," Mr. Forsythe said. "Clara's never been sick a day in her life." Where is she, then, you old fool? Gus thought, but he held his tongue.
"Is she out? I'd like to greet her," he said.
"We travelled nearly to the North Pole and back since I was here." "No, she's not here," Mr. Forsythe said, glancing at the back of the store, as if he feared Clara might pop out from behind a pile of dry goods. Then he went back to counting shoes.
Augustus was taken aback--Mr. Forsythe had always been friendly to him, and had seemed to encourage his suit. Why was he so standoffish suddenly?
"I expect she's just making deliveries," Gus said. "I hope you'll tell her I stopped in." "Yes sir, I'll tell her," Mr.
Forsythe said.
Augustus turned toward the door, feeling close to panic. What could have happened to make George Forsythe so closemouthed with him?
Then, just as Gus was about to go out the door, Mr.
Forsythe put down a pair of shoes and turned to him with a question.
"Lose any men, this trip?" he asked.
"Just Jimmy Watson," Gus said.
"Jimmy had fatal bad luck. We brought back three captives, though. One of them's a woman who's out of her mind." Jake Spoon was waiting in the street, eager to tag along with him like a puppy dog, but Augustus was in no mood to be tagged--not then.
"Hello, Mr. McCrae, did you kill any Indians?" Jake asked, an eager look on his young face.
"Two. Now don't tag me, Jake, I have to report to the Governor," Gus said. "Neely will tell you all about the Indian fighting." "Oh," Jake said, his face falling. Mr.
McCrae had always been friendly with him; never before had he been so brusque.
Augustus felt guilty for being short with young Jake, but the fact was he could think of nothing but Clara--not at the moment. They had been gone for weeks: perhaps she had married. The thought stirred his mind to such a frenzy that the last thing he needed was to have to be gabbing about rangering with a green boy.
"Woodrow Call and me got made captains," he said, trying to soothe the boy's feelings a little. "Being a captain is just one duty after another, which is why I have to go see the Governor right now. He wants a report." "Yes, we all want one," Jake said.
"You may want it, but he's the governor and you ain't," Gus said, as he prepared to mount. His mind was in such an agitated state that--z young Jake watched in astonishment--he put the wrong foot in the stirrup and mounted the horse facing backward.
It was only when Gus leaned forward to pick up his bridle reins and saw that in fact he was looking at his horse's rump that he realized what he had done. To make matters worse, most of the rangers, having stabled their horses, were walking toward the saloon, to join Long Bill, and saw him do it. They immediately started laughing and pointing, assuming Gus was so happy to be home that he had decided to ride his horse backward, as some sort of prank.
Augustus was so stunned by what he had done that for a moment he was paralyzed. "Well, I swear," he said, unable to believe that he had accidentally done such an absurd thing. He was about to swing down and try to pretend it only had been a prank when he happened to look up the road that led into Austin, down a long slope.
There was a buggy coming, a buggy with two people in it--it seemed to him that the two people were holding hands, though he couldn't be sure. The woman in the buggy was Clara Forsythe, and the man looked from a distance like Bob Allen, the Nebraska horse trader.
One look was all it took to propel Gus off the horse. He didn't intend to be sitting in front of the Forsythe store, looking
"Sorry to disturb you, I just wondered if Clara was sick--I had the fear that she might have taken ill while we were gone," Gus said.
"Oh no, Clara's healthy as a horse," Mr. Forsythe said. "Clara's never been sick a day in her life." Where is she, then, you old fool? Gus thought, but he held his tongue.
"Is she out? I'd like to greet her," he said.
"We travelled nearly to the North Pole and back since I was here." "No, she's not here," Mr. Forsythe said, glancing at the back of the store, as if he feared Clara might pop out from behind a pile of dry goods. Then he went back to counting shoes.
Augustus was taken aback--Mr. Forsythe had always been friendly to him, and had seemed to encourage his suit. Why was he so standoffish suddenly?
"I expect she's just making deliveries," Gus said. "I hope you'll tell her I stopped in." "Yes sir, I'll tell her," Mr.
Forsythe said.
Augustus turned toward the door, feeling close to panic. What could have happened to make George Forsythe so closemouthed with him?
Then, just as Gus was about to go out the door, Mr.
Forsythe put down a pair of shoes and turned to him with a question.
"Lose any men, this trip?" he asked.
"Just Jimmy Watson," Gus said.
"Jimmy had fatal bad luck. We brought back three captives, though. One of them's a woman who's out of her mind." Jake Spoon was waiting in the street, eager to tag along with him like a puppy dog, but Augustus was in no mood to be tagged--not then.
"Hello, Mr. McCrae, did you kill any Indians?" Jake asked, an eager look on his young face.
"Two. Now don't tag me, Jake, I have to report to the Governor," Gus said. "Neely will tell you all about the Indian fighting." "Oh," Jake said, his face falling. Mr.
McCrae had always been friendly with him; never before had he been so brusque.
Augustus felt guilty for being short with young Jake, but the fact was he could think of nothing but Clara--not at the moment. They had been gone for weeks: perhaps she had married. The thought stirred his mind to such a frenzy that the last thing he needed was to have to be gabbing about rangering with a green boy.
"Woodrow Call and me got made captains," he said, trying to soothe the boy's feelings a little. "Being a captain is just one duty after another, which is why I have to go see the Governor right now. He wants a report." "Yes, we all want one," Jake said.
"You may want it, but he's the governor and you ain't," Gus said, as he prepared to mount. His mind was in such an agitated state that--z young Jake watched in astonishment--he put the wrong foot in the stirrup and mounted the horse facing backward.
It was only when Gus leaned forward to pick up his bridle reins and saw that in fact he was looking at his horse's rump that he realized what he had done. To make matters worse, most of the rangers, having stabled their horses, were walking toward the saloon, to join Long Bill, and saw him do it. They immediately started laughing and pointing, assuming Gus was so happy to be home that he had decided to ride his horse backward, as some sort of prank.
Augustus was so stunned by what he had done that for a moment he was paralyzed. "Well, I swear," he said, unable to believe that he had accidentally done such an absurd thing. He was about to swing down and try to pretend it only had been a prank when he happened to look up the road that led into Austin, down a long slope.
There was a buggy coming, a buggy with two people in it--it seemed to him that the two people were holding hands, though he couldn't be sure. The woman in the buggy was Clara Forsythe, and the man looked from a distance like Bob Allen, the Nebraska horse trader.
One look was all it took to propel Gus off the horse. He didn't intend to be sitting in front of the Forsythe store, looking
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