CHAPTER XXVII
A DINNER DANCE IN PROSPECT
The girl from Boston did not come over to see Pratt that very next day;but soon she, as well as the remainder of the young people who had beenthe guests of Mr. Bill Edwards and his hospitable wife, were stopping atthe Bar-T daily and inquiring for Pratt; and as soon as he could behelped downstairs and out upon the veranda, he held a general receptionall day long.
In the afternoon when the Edwards crowd was over, the old_hacienda_ took on a liveliness of aspect that it had never knownbefore. The veranda was gay with bright frocks and the air resoundedwith laughter.
The boys gathered around Pratt and plans for future hunts and otherjunkets were made--for the young bank clerk was rapidly recovering. Thegirls meanwhile made much of the old Captain--all but Sue Latrop. Butshe did not count for as much as she had at the beginning of her visitat the Edwards ranch. The other young folk had begun to find her out.
The punchers who were off duty were attracted to this gay party on theporch, as naturally as flies gravitate to molasses. The Amarillogirls--and, of course, Mrs. Bill Edwards--saw nothing out of the way inCaptain Rugley's hands lounging up to the _hacienda_ to talk. Mostof them were young fellows of neighboring families, and quite as wellknown as were the visitors themselves. Sue Latrop's amazement at thisfamiliarity only made the other girls laugh.
Unless she would be left alone on the veranda with Pratt (which sheconsidered very bad form) she was obliged one afternoon to go down tothe corral with the crowd to see a bunch of ponies fresh from the range.
Some of the half-wild ponies rolled their eyes, snorted, and galloped tothe far side of the corral the instant the visitors appeared.
"Get your reserved seats, gals!" cried Fred Purchase, preparing to openthe gate. "Roost all along the rail up there and watch the fun. I betFatty Obendorf falls off and breaks a suspender-button--fust throw outof the box!"
"Oh my! you don't mean for us to climb up _there_?" gasped Sue, asone or two of her friends tucked up their skirts and started to mountthe fence.
"Sure. Reserved seats at the top," laughed Mrs. Edwards, likewisemounting the barrier.
"Why! I am afraid I could never do it," murmured the Boston girl.
"You'll miss a lot of fun, then," declared one of the Amarillo girls,callously. They were all getting a little tired of Sue Latrop and herpose.
Finding herself the only one on the ground, Sue scrambled up veryclumsily and just in time to see Fatty rope the first pony out of thebunch that was now racing around and around the corral.
This was a black and white rascal with a high head and rolling eye, thatlooked as though he had never been bridled in his life. But it was onlythat he had been some months on the range, and freedom had gone to hishead.
Fatty lay back on the lariat and dug his high heels into the sod. Whenthe pony felt the noose he leaped into it, it tightened around his neck,and the creature came to the ground, kicking and squealing.
"By hicketty!" yelled Purchase. "Ain't lil' old Fatty good for suthin'?Yuh could suah use him tuh tie a steamboat tuh--what!"
For all the fun the other punchers made of Fatty Obendorf, he had hisselection out of the herd blindfolded, bridled, and saddled, before anyother pony was noosed.
"Good for you, Fatty!" cried Frances, who was perched on the corralfence with the other girls. "And that's a good horse, too; only you wantto 'ware heels. I remember that he's a kicker."
"Oh! Fatty don't keer if his fust name's Kickapoo," jeered Fred.
The black and white pony gave Obendorf all the work he wanted for someminutes, however, and afforded the spectators much excitement. He wasn'ta bucking bronco, but he showed plainly his dislike for humanmanagement. Spur and bit and quirt, however, was a combination that thepony was quickly forced to give in to.
Fred himself straddled a speckled, ugly-looking animal, and put itthrough its paces in short order. It was a spectacular exhibition; butsome of the other punchers laughed uproariously.
"What's the matter with you fellers, anyway?" demanded Fred,complainingly. "Ain't you a-gwine to accord me no praise? Don't I lookas purty on hawseback as that fat chunk does?" he added, referring toObendorf.
"You know very well," called Frances, from the seat of judgment, "that Idrove that speckled pony to my little jumpcart two years ago. That'sChippy--and he's almost as big a bluff, Fred, as you are! He lookssavage enough to eat you up, and is really as tame as tame can be."
"Hi, Teddie! she's got yuh throwed, tied, an' branded, all right!"shouted one of the other punchers.
The girls on the fence welcomed each feat of horsemanship with greatapplause. Some of the ponies "acted up," as Tom Gallup called it, "tothe queen's taste."
"Whatever that may mean, Tom," Mrs. Edwards said, dryly. "Why don't youtry your 'prentice hand on that buckskin? He's dodged the lariat a dozentimes."
"Why, that Bucky is a regular rocking-horse, I bet," declared Tom, who,for a city boy, was a pretty good rider.
"Get down and ride him, Tommy," urged Sue. "Can't you ride as well asthese country boys?"
"I never said I could," retorted Tom, doubtfully. "You girls are guyingthe punchers, too. Why don't one o' you get down and show 'em what youcan do?"
"Frances can beat all you boys riding, Tommy," Mrs. Edwards cried.
"Bet she couldn't even get aboard of that Bucky," young Gallup instantlyresponded.
"You're not going to take a dare like that, are you, Frances?" demandedMrs. Edwards.
Sue became disdainful the moment Frances came into the argument. She hadnothing further to say.
"I believe the boys are all holding back on that little buckskin," saidFrances, laughing.
"Step right this way, Ma'am, step right this way," urged Fred Purchase,bowing low and offering his lariat. "Here's my rope and I'll lend yeanything else ye may need if ye wanter try that Bucky. He's some bronco,believe me!"
Frances got down off the fence.
"Oh! don't you try it, Frances!" cried one nervous girl. "That ponylooks wicked!"
"Let her break her neck, if she wants to make a fool of herself!"snapped Sue, _sotto voce_.
Nobody heard her. All were watching too closely the range girl approachthe buckskin pony. She had accepted Fred's lariat and the coil of itbegan to whirl about her head.
"There it goes!" cried Tom Gallup.
The buckskin started on a long, swinging lope; but it could not get outfrom under the coil of the lariat. The noose fell and the plunging ponywent head and forefeet into it. Frances leaped with both feet upon therope, just as it snapped taut. Bucky went on his head, kicking all fourfeet in the air.
"Got him! got him!" shrieked the excited Tom, and the girls cheeredlikewise.
And then the lariat snapped in two!
Muddied and scratched, the buckskin scrambled to his feet, his eyesblazing, nostrils distended, and as wild a horse as ever came off therange.
"Look out, Miss Frances!" yelled Mack Hinkman, who had just come uponthe scene. "That thar buckskin hawse is a bad actor."
"Oh! the dear girl! Whatever did possess me to urge her on?" cried Mrs.Edwards. "Boys! Save her!"
But it was all over before any of the punchers, or the visitors on thefence, could go to Frances' rescue.
The buckskin rose on his hind legs and struck at the girl desperately.She had gathered in the slack of the broken lariat and she swung itsharply across the pony's face, leaping sideways to avoid him.
The pony whirled and struck again, whistling shrilly, the foam flyingfrom his jaws. Once more Frances avoided him.
Tom Gallup was yelling like a wild boy on the fence. Sue could scarcelycatch her breath for fear. She would not have admitted it for the world;but the courage of the range girl amazed her. Her own rescue from thecharge of the little black bullock by Frances had not impressed SueLatrop as did this battle with the pony in the arena of the horsecorral.
Fred Purchase ran with another lariat. Frances seized it, flung thenoose over the upraise
d head of the pony, took a swift turn around ashed post, and brought the "bad actor" up short.
She insisted, too, on cinching on the saddle and putting the bit in thepony's mouth. Then she mounted him and as he tore around the corral, thegirl sitting as though she were a part of the creature, the boys andgirls joined the punchers in cheering her.
It was not in this way, however, that the girl visitors to the rangeslearned the true worth of Frances Rugley. They were, after all, only"porch acquaintances." Once only had the party been invited into theinner court for luncheon, and their brief calls to the ranch-houseoffered little opportunity for the girls to really see Frances' home.
They had met her so much in riding costume that, like Pratt Sanderson,they were amazed when she appeared in a pretty house dress. And theywere really a bit awed by her, for although the range girl was of anaturally cheerful disposition, she possessed, too, more than her shareof dignity.
"You don't flit about like these other girls, Frances," said the oldranchman, who was very observant. "You grow to look and seem more likeyour mother every day. But the goodness knows I don't want you to growinto a woman ahead of your time."
"I reckon I won't do that, Dad," she said, laughing at him fondly.
"I don't know. I reckon you've had too much responsibility on thoseshoulders of yours. You left school too young, too. That's what theseother girls say. Why, that Boston girl is going to school now!
"But, shucks! she wouldn't know enough to hurt her if she attendedschool from now till the end of time!"
Frances laughed again. "That is pretty harsh, father. Now, I think Ihave had quite schooling enough to get along. I don't need the higherbranches of education to help you run this ranch. Do I?"
"By mighty!" exploded the Captain. "I don't know whether I have beendoing right by you or not. I've been talking to Mrs. Bill Edwards aboutit. I loved you so, Frances, that I hated to have you out of my sight.But----"
"Now, now!" cried the girl. "Let's have no more of that. You and I haveonly each other, and I couldn't bear to be away from you long enough togo to a boarding school."
"Yes--I know," went on Captain Rugley. "But there are ways of gettingaround _that_. We'll see."
One thing he was determined on was Captain Dan Rugley. He proposed tohave "some doings" at the ranch-house before Pratt was well enough to bedischarged from "St. Frances' Hospital," as he called the_hacienda_.
The old ranchman worked up the idea with Mrs. Edwards before Francesknew anything about it.
"They call it a 'dinner dance,'" he confided to Frances at length, whenthe main plan was already made. "At least that's what Mrs. Edwardssays."
"A 'dinner dance'?" repeated his daughter, not sure for the moment thatshe wished to have so much confusion in the house when there was so muchto do.
"Yes! Now, it isn't one of those dances you read about out East, wherefolks drink a cup of tea, and then get up and dance around, and thentake a sandwich and the orchestra strikes up another tune," chuckledCaptain Rugley.
"No, it isn't like that. I couldn't stand any such doings. I'd neverknow when I'd had enough to eat; every dance would shake down thecourses so that my stomach would be packed as hard as a cementsidewalk."
"Oh, Daddy!" said Frances, half laughing at him.
"No. This dinner dance idea is all right," declared the ranchman. "Wegive a dinner to the whole crowd--all the girls and boys that have beencoming over here for the past two or three weeks."
"It will make fifteen at table," said the practical Frances, thinkinghard of the resources of the household.
"That's all right. I'll get in the Reposa boys to help San Soo andMing."
"Victorino, too?" asked his daughter, curiously.
"Yes," declared the Captain, stoutly. "He's sorry he mixed up with RattyM'Gill. Vic isn't a bad boy. Well, that's help enough, and San Soo canoutdo himself on his dinner."
"That part of it will be all right--and the service, too, for Jose andVictorino are handy boys," admitted Frances.
"We'll have out the best tableware we own. That silver stuff that camefrom Don Morales will knock their eyes out----"
"Oh, Daddy!" cried Frances, going off into a gale of laughter. "Youpicked up that expression from Tom Gallup."
"That's the slangy boy--yes," admitted the old ranchman, with a broadsmile. "But some of his slang just hits things off right. Some of thosegirls think you're 'country,' I know. We'll show them!"
Frances sighed. She knew it meant that she must dress the part of abarbarian princess to please her father. But she made no objection. Ifshe tried to show him that the jewels and ornaments were not fit for herto wear, he would be hurt.
"Yes!" exclaimed Captain Rugley, evidently much pleased with the idea ofa social time that he had evolved with Mrs. Edwards' help, "we'll haveas nice a dinner as San Soo can make. After dinner we'll have dancing,I'll get the string band from Jackleg. Jackleg's getting to be quite asocial centre, Mrs. Edwards says."
Frances laughed again. "I expect," she said, "that Mrs. Edwards is eagerto have a dance, and the Jackleg string band _is_ a whole lotbetter than Bob Jones' accordion and Perry's old fiddle."
"Oh, well! Of course, an accordion and fiddle are all right for a cowboydance, but this is going to be the real thing!" declared her father.
"Aren't you going to invite the boys as usual?" asked Frances, quickly.
"Not to the dinner!" gasped her father. "But that's all right. To thedance, afterward. Some of them are mighty good dancers, and there aren'tboys enough in Mrs. Edwards' crowd to go round. It's quite the thing ata dinner dance, she says, to invite extra people to come in after thedinner is over."
"All right," said Frances, suppressing another sigh.
"And I'm going to send off for half a carload of potted palms, and otherplants. We'll decorate like the Town Hall. You'll see!" exclaimed theold ranchman, as eager as a boy about it all.
Frances hadn't the heart to make any objection, but she was afraid thatthe affair would be a disappointment to him. She did not think the boysfrom the ranges, and Sue Latrop and her girl friends, would mix well.
But the Captain went ahead with his preparations with his usual energy.He had Mrs. Edwards as chief adviser. But Frances overlooked the plansin the household in her usually capable way.
The big drawing-room was thoroughly cleaned and the floor waxed. Thescratches made by Ratty M'Gill's spurs were eliminated. When the pottedplants came--a four-mule wagon-load--Frances arranged them about thedancing floor and dining-room.
She found her father practising his steps in the hall one morning beforebreakfast. "Goodness, Daddy," she cried. "Do be careful of your weakleg."
"Don't you worry about me," he chuckled. "I'm going to give old Mr.Rheumatism a black eye this time. I'm going to 'shake a leg' at thisdance if it's the last act of my life."
"Don't be too reckless," she told him, with a worried little frown onher brow. "I want you to be able to ride to Jackleg to see the pageant.And that comes the very day but one after our dance."
"I'll be all right," he assured her. "I have a dance promised from Mrs.Edwards and each of the girls but that Boston one, right now. And Iwouldn't miss your show in Jackleg, Frances, for a penny!
"I only wish Lon were here to enjoy it. I got a letter from thatminister saying that Lon and he will reach here next week. If they'dcome early in the week they'd get here in time for the pageant, anyway."
With so much bustle and preparation about the Bar-T ranch-house, therewas not much likelihood of anybody being reckless enough to attemptstealing the old Spanish chest, or its contents.
These days the Captain kept the room in which the chest of treasure laydouble-locked, and at night slept in the room himself. From sunset tosunrise a relay of cowboys rode around the huge house and compound, andalthough Pete Marin, as Ratty M'Gill's friend from Mississippi wascalled, was still at large, there was no fear that he, or anybody else,would get into the _hacienda_ at night.
Frances, with all her duties, h
ad less time to devote to Pratt'sentertainment now. In truth, as soon as he was able to get downstairs byhimself he complained that he lost his nurse.
When the crowd came over from the Edwards ranch, and sat around on theporch, Frances was not always with them. One afternoon--the very daybefore the dinner and dance, in fact--she came through one of the long,open windows upon the veranda, right behind a group of three of thegirls. It was by chance she heard one of them say:
"Well, I don't care, Sue, I think she is real nice. You are awfullycritical."
"I can't bear dowdy people," drawled Sue Latrop. "I know she'll be asight at that dinner to-morrow night. My goodness! if for nothing elseI'd come to see how she looks in her 'best bib and tucker' and how thatqueer old man acts when he is what he calls 'all dolled up.'"
"Sh!" warned the third girl. "Somebody will hear you."
"Pooh! If they do?" returned Sue Latrop, carelessly.
"If I were you," said the other girl, with warmth, "I wouldn't accept aninvitation to dine with people whom I expected to make fun of."
"Silly!" laughed the girl from Boston. "I've got to find enjoymentsomewhere--and there's little enough of it in this Panhandle. I'll beglad when father writes saying that I can come home once again."
"How about your going to this dance, Sue?" chuckled one of the girls,suddenly. "I thought your doctor had forbidden dancing for this summer?"
"I think I see myself dancing with these cowboys that they are going toinvite," scoffed Sue. "And Pratt can't dance yet. There isn't anybodyworth dancing with in our crowd now."
"Hasn't the Captain asked you for a dance?" queried her friend,roguishly.
"I should say not!" gasped Sue. "Fancy!"
"You must not act as though his invitation insulted you, Sue Latrop,"said one of the other girls, rather tartly. "You might as wellunderstand, first as last, that we are all fond of Captain Rugley.Besides, he's a very influential man and one of the wealthiest in thispart of the Panhandle."
"_Nouveau-riche_," sniffed Miss Sue, with a toss of her head.
"If that means newly rich, why, he's not!" exclaimed the other girl,with continued warmth. "It's true, he didn't make his money bakingbeans, or bean-pots; nor by drying and selling pollock and calling it'codfish.' I believe one has to make his money in some such way to breakinto Boston society?"
"Something like that," responded Sue, calmly.
"Well, the old Captain is very, very wealthy," went on his champion. "Ifyou'd ever been much inside this big house, you'd see it is so. And theysay he has a treasure chest containing jewels of fabulous value."
"A treasure chest!" ejaculated the Boston girl.
"Yes, Ma'am!"
"Now you are trying to fool me," declared Sue Latrop.
"You wait! I expect Frances will wear at the dinner some of thosewonderful old jewels the Captain digs out of his chest once in a while.I've heard they are really amazing----
"Jewels to deck out the Cattle Queen!" interrupted Sue, tauntingly."Nose ring and anklets included, I s'pose?"
"Now, Sue! how can you be so mean?" cried one of the other girls.
"Pshaw! I suppose she'll be a wondrous sight in her 'best bib andtucker.' Loaded down with silver ornaments, like a Mexican belle at afair, or an Indian squaw at a poodle-dog feast. She will undoubtedlythrow all us girls in the shade," and Sue burst into a gale of laughter.
"I declare! you're cruel, Sue!" cried one of the girls from Amarillo.
"I'd like to know how you make that out, Miss?" demanded the girl fromBoston.
"Frances has never done you a bit of harm. Why! you are accepting herhospitality this very moment. And yet, you haven't a good word to sayfor her."
"I don't see that I am called upon to give her a good word," sneeredMiss Latrop. "She is a rough, rude, quite impossible person. I fail tosee wherein she deserves any consideration at my hands. I declare! tohear you girls, one would think this cowgirl was of some importance."
Frances came quietly away from the window, postponing her dusting inthat quarter until later. But she was tempted--very sorely temptedindeed.
Sue expected her to look like a cross between an Indian squaw and aMexican belle at dinner--and Frances was sorely tempted to fulfil theBoston girl's idea of what a "cattle queen" should look like at asociety function!