human
You long-legged, ornery, freckle-faced, gun-packin' galoot, Sandy Bourke! Light off'n that cayuse, you an' yore lady friend. Where in time did you-all drop from?
gpt
Come across the mesa. Like to git washed across through Paso Cabras, said Sandy.
human
Miss Casey, let me make you 'quainted with Chuck Goodwin, one time the best hawss-shoer in the seven Cactus States, now sellin' oil an' gasoline at fancy prices, not to mention machines fo' which he is agent.
gpt
Got a few oats left fo' yore hawsses, Sandy. Miss, won't you come inside the office? Where you bound, Sandy?
human
We was aimin' to catch the seven o'clock train east, makin' fo' New Mexico an' the Redding Ranch, where Miss Casey is to visit fo' a spell, but we found the trail bad an' a cloud-bu'st finally set us back so we quit hurryin' an' loafed in. Chuck, have you got a machine you c'ud rent us, with a driver?
gpt
You can have anything I got in the place with laigs or wheels, an' welcome. Goin' to the old Redding Ranch? Give my howdedo to Miss Barbara, or Mrs. Barbara as she is now. But-- He looked at the wall clock.
human
It's a quarter of ten. Yore train's been altered to suit main line schedules. She don't come through till nine-thirty an' she's gen'ally late makin' the grade. I ain't heard her whistle yet. I wouldn't wonder but what you can make it. Not that I'm aimin' none to hurry you.
gpt
Runnin' twenty minutes late, he announced.
human
Hop in my car an' we'll jest about make her. She don't do much more'n hesitate at Caroca when she's behind time.
gpt
You'll take good care of the hawsses, Chuck? he said.
human
I'll probably be back for 'em myse'f in three-fo' days.
gpt
Seguro.