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Thomas A. Janvier
Being Some Memorials of Events in a New-Mexican Track-end Town
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Her left hand was laying in her lap, sort of casual, and the old gent got a-hold of it and said he didn’t know how to tell her how sorry he was for her. Talking from behind her pocket-handkerchief, she said such sympathy was precious; and then she went on, kind of pitiful, saying she s’posed her little Willy’d have forgot all about her before she’d get back to him––and she cried some more. Hill said she done it so well he was half took in himself for a minute, and felt so bad he went to licking and swearing at his mules.
After a while she took a brace––getting down her pocket-handkerchief, and calling in the hand the old gent was a-holding––and said she must be brave, like her dear Captain’d always been, so he’d see when he was a-looking at her from heaven she was doing the square thing. And as to having to wait around before she went East, she said, in one way it didn’t make any matter––seeing she’d be well cared for and comfortable at Palomitas staying in the house of the Baptist minister, who’d married her aunt.
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