“Then, Walter, you come and dance with me,”
the blind woman cried. “I’m bound
to dance with somebody.”
And to see her weaving in and out among the dancers
in Walter’s grasp, one would never guess her
affliction.
That evening’s entertainment was only an impromptu
affair. A few nights later the house party was
formally invited to a “ball” at the men’s
quarters. The big dining room next the bunk house
was cleared out, two fiddles and an accordion obtained
from Osaka, and the Rose Ranch outfit showed the visitors
what a real cowboy dance was like.
Rhoda and her friends certainly had a fine time at
this ball. Boys from neighboring outfits attended,
some riding fifty and sixty miles to “shake
a leg” as the local expression had it.
There were both Mexican and white girls from Osaka
and from other ranches. Even a party of Indians
attended, but the young squaws were in civilized costume
and looked even more “American” than the
Mexican girls. One young Indian, however, confided
to Walter that he did not think the new dances were
graceful or really worthy.
“Really, the square dances and the good old
waltz are more to my taste,” he said. “We
never took up these one—and two-steps at
Carlisle when I was there.”
“Another of my cherished beliefs gone,”
confessed Walter, afterward, to Nan. “I
bet that redskin doesn’t know how to throw the
tomahawk, and that he couldn’t give the warhoop
the proper pronunciation if he tried. Dear me!
this Southwest is getting awfully civilized.”
But Bess Harley was delighted with the evening’s
fun. Going to bed at midnight, she said:
“Dear me, Rhoda, what perfectly lovely times
you can have out here in the wilderness. I never
danced with so many nice boys before. I never
would have believed Rose Ranch was like this.”
EXPECTATIONS
After this Nan and Bess and Grace, as well as Walter,
were well acquainted with the “boys” about
Rose Ranch. At least, they knew all those employed
within easy riding distance of the ranch house.
It was later that they learned they had met none of
“Dan’s bunch.” That was the
crowd that had ridden away the very morning after the
visitors had arrived at the ranch. The outfit
headed by Dan MacCormack had gone to round up a horse
herd many miles from headquarters.
Mr. Hammond and several other ranchmen of the vicinity
allowed their horses to run wild in the hills for
a part of each year. The larger part, in fact.
“You see, they get their own living up there,
on pasturage that they never could be driven to,”
Rhoda explained to the girls. “Besides,
many of the finest mustangs in the country run wild
and will never be caught. Daddy likes to have
his herds crossed with that wild blood. It makes
the colts more vigorous and handsomer. Oh, I
just wish you girls could see some of the wild stallions.
But they seldom come down with the herds to the rodeo.
They go back into the wilder hills with the scrubs
that the boys don’t care to drive in.
