name was
Amada Garcia, but it's Amada Whittaker now. They have been married
without any proof of it ever since last spring, but they are married
tight and fast now, _padre_ and witnesses and the whole thing, and I
helped 'em to do it not an hour ago. Now, keep your temper, Colonel,'
says I, 'and wait till I get through. I know you'll be disappointed
and mad, but you'd better keep cool and make the best of it, for the
girl's just as good as you are, if she is a Mexican, and she's a whole
heap too good for your son. And she's just the cutest and prettiest
little piece of calico you ever laid your eyes on, in the bargain.
Now, don't try to step in and make a mess of this, Colonel,' I said,
'for you won't succeed if you do try, because the boy has got Emerson
and Tom and me to back him, and if you-all don't play a father's part
toward him we will. If you should get him away from her you'd just
simply send your son to the devil, and he'd be the devil's own brat if
he let you do it.

"'Now, Colonel,' says I, 'you-all better go and make a call on your
new daughter-in-law, and find out from Will what she's done to protect
him and get to him, and if you don't take her right into camp you're
not the gentleman and the judge of beauty I take you for. Besides,
Colonel' says I, 'if Amada gets the right kind of treatment from you
and your folks, my bargain with Will holds. If she don't--well, I'll
keep my word, of course, but there's likely to be consequences.'"

Nick's narrative came to its end and for a few minutes the three men
smoked in silence. Then Ellhorn turned half reluctantly to Mead:

"Say, Emerson, that was mighty queer about those three bullet holes.
We sure thought nobody but you-all could do that."

Mead smiled, thinking of Marguerite. "Even if he was shot in the
back?" he said quietly.

Nick and Tom looked at each other with chagrin on their faces. "We-all
never thought of that!" Tom exclaimed.

"And he did need killin' so damn bad," said Nick, "and you-all never
said a word to deny it."

"I don't usually deny things I'm charged with," said Mead.

"That's so, Emerson, you don't," assented Tom.

"People are welcome to believe anything they like about me," Mead went
on, "and I don't intend to belittle myself askin' 'em not to. It's all
right, boys. I didn't blame you for believin' I'd done it But I did
think you'd notice he'd been shot in the back. I'm goin' out now. I'll
see you later." And he hurried off do