I was glad to be free of that job. It was bad enough to have to go into
these dens to arrest men, let alone living with them, almost being one.
Diane Sampson noted a change in me, attributed it to the absence of the
influence of drink, and she was glad. Sally made no attempt to conceal
her happiness; and to my dismay, she utterly failed to keep her promise
not to tease or tempt me further.
She was adorable, distracting.
We rode every day and almost all day. We took our dinner and went clear
to the foothills to return as the sun set. We visited outlying ranches,
water-holes, old adobe houses famous in one way or another as scenes of
past fights of rustlers and ranchers.
We rode to the little village of Sampson, and half-way to Sanderson, and
all over the country.
There was no satisfying Miss Sampson with rides, new places, new faces,
new adventures. And every time we rode out she insisted on first riding
through Linrock; and every time we rode home she insisted on going back
that way.
We visited all the stores, the blacksmith, the wagon shop, the feed and
grain houses--everywhere that she could find excuse for visiting. I had
to point out to her all the infamous dens in town, and all the lawless
and lounging men we met.
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