Free Telegraph Days by Larry McMurtry

army?”
    Teddy was silent for a good space of time. He liked to gather his thoughts in his own good time.
    â€œWhen old George was a little friendlier he expressed a great fondness for you,” he said finally. “He told me once that if he were a few years younger he’d marry you. What do you think of that?”
    What I remembered was that on one or two of his visits Mr. Murray had cast me looks which were not exactly proper. Once when I’d been washing my hands in a pan of water he had looked at my bare arms in a way that took leave of propriety, in my opinion. I felt a kind of heat coming off him, so I rolled down my sleeves and walked away.
    â€œI didn’t much like Mr. Murray, but that’s water under the bridge,” I told Ted. “Even if the old creature shoots your brother-in-law and five or six other people, I’m not likely to marry him.”
    â€œNo, but since he likes you I thought we might ride out and visit the man,” Ted said. “I’d like to avoid further bloodshed if I can. If youtalked to old George maybe he’d ease up on Ed Palmer and let him have the hundred thousand acres.”
    The suggestion was reasonable enough, but right away, I sensed a plot on Teddy’s part to get me alone. Sheriffs don’t normally ask telegraph ladies to help them arrest dangerous criminals.
    â€œTed, I’m the telegraph lady,” I reminded him. “I can’t be leaving my post just because George Murray is a little unruly.”
    â€œThe telegraph office ain’t open on Sunday,” Teddy reminded me. “If you’re willing I’ll rent a buggy and we can ride out Sunday and visit your father’s old friend.”
    It was plain at that point what Teddy’s game was. Protecting Ed Palmer was just an excuse. What he wanted was a good stretch of time with me alone. Obviously he had kissing in mind, and possibly matrimony as well.
    â€œHow long’s the buggy ride?” I asked. After all, my Sundays were mainly dull. I suppose I could have stayed home and hung curtains. But fighting off Teddy might be more interesting.
    â€œIt’s about twenty miles out to Rabbit Gulch,” Teddy admitted.
    â€œI suppose I ought to assist the law anyway I can,” I told him. This caused Ted to brighten considerably.
    Of course the dull creature that my upbringing had trained me to be would have insisted on taking a chaperone along on this buggy ride. But the fact is I never held with chaperones. The whole point of courtship, as I enjoyed it, was to figure out ways to be alone with whatever fellow was courting you at the time.
    I said nothing about a chaperone. Teddy sure didn’t mention one, so we made our date for Sunday.

17
    I N FACT, GIVEN the choice, I would rather have gone on a Sunday buggy ride with Andy Jessup than with Ten Bunsen—but I was given no choice. Andy had a commission to pick up a string of horses down in southern Kansas somewhere and deliver them to Buffalo Bill Cody to be used in his big buffalo hunt with the dudes from Chicago.
    â€œI suppose that sheriff means to marry you,” Andy said, as he was saddling up to leave. We were moping around in the stables and had even exchanged a shy peck or two.
    â€œHis courtship rarely pleases me—I suppose I’ll end up a spinster,” I said. “I’m just too hard to please.”
    Andy didn’t contest the opinion. He gave me another peck and he was gone. His abrupt departure, just as I was beginning to fall under the spell of his dreamy eyes, put me a little out of sorts with this fellow Buffalo Bill. Not only was he the idol of the bossy McClendon sisters, his need to make money off Chicago dudes had caused Andy Jessup to run off and leave me just when I was beginning to want to kiss him.
    Just about the time I was closing the telegraph office on Saturday afternoon, old Josh the mail rider came racing into Rita Blanca on a horse so badly