date of every girl present. We took a
stroll through the crowd, and when I described her by her big eyes, he
said in a voice so loud that I felt sure she must hear: "Why, certainly, I
know her. That's Esther McLeod. I've trotted her on my knee a hundred
times. She's the youngest girl of old man Donald McLeod who used to
ranch over on the mouth of the San Miguel, north on the Frio. Yes, I'll
give you an interslaption." Then in a subdued tone: "And if you can
drop your rope on her, son, tie her good and fast, for she's good stock."
I was made acquainted as his latest adopted son, and inferred the old
ranchero's approbation by many a poke in the ribs from him in the
intervals between dances; for Esther and I danced every dance together
until dawn. No one could charge me with neglect or inattention, for I
close-herded her like a hired hand. She mellowed nicely towards me
after the ice was broken, and with the limited time at my disposal, I
made hay. When the dance broke up with the first signs of day, I
saddled her horse and assisted her to mount, when I received the cutest
little invitation, 'if ever I happened over on the Sau Miguel, to try and
call.' Instead of beating about the bush, I assured her bluntly that if she
ever saw me on Miguel Creek, it would be intentional; for I should
have made the ride purely to see her. She blushed again in a way which
sent a thrill through me. But on the Nueces in '75, if a fellow took a
fancy to a girl there was no harm in showing it or telling her so.
I had been so absorbed during the latter part of the night that I had paid
little attention to the rest of the Las Palomas outfit, though I
occasionally caught sight of Miss Jean and the drover, generally
dancing, sometimes promenading, and once had a glimpse of them
tête-à-tête on a rustic settee in a secluded corner. Our employer seldom
danced, but kept his eye on June Deweese in the interests of peace, for
Annear and his wife were both present. Once while Esther and I were
missing a dance over some light refreshment, I had occasion to watch
June as he and Annear danced in the same set. I thought the latter acted
rather surly, though Deweese was the acme of geniality, and was
apparently having the time of his life as he tripped through the mazes
of the dance. Had I not known of the deadly enmity existing between
them, I could never have suspected anything but friendship, he was
acting the part so perfectly. But then I knew he had given his plighted
word to the master and mistress, and nothing but an insult or indignity
could tempt him to break it.
On the return trip, we got the ambulance off before sunrise, expecting
to halt and breakfast again at the Arroyo Seco. Aaron Scales and Dan
Happersett acted as couriers to Miss Jean's conveyance, while the rest
dallied behind, for there was quite a cavalcade of young folks going a
distance our way. This gave Uncle Lance a splendid chance to quiz the
girls in the party. I was riding with a Miss Wilson from Ramirena, who
had come up to make a visit at a near-by ranch and incidentally attend
the dance at Shepherd's. I admit that I was a little too much absorbed
over another girl to be very entertaining, but Uncle Lance helped out by
joining us. "Nice morning overhead, Miss Wilson," said he, on riding
up. "Say, I've waited just as long as I'm going to for that invitation to
your wedding which you promised me last summer. Now, I don't know
so much about the young men down about Ramirena, but when I was a
youngster back on the Colorado, when a boy loved a girl he married her,
whether it was Friday or Monday, rain or shine. I'm getting tired of
being put off with promises. Why, actually, I haven't been to a wedding
in three years. What are we coming to?"
[Illustration: WE GOT THE AMBULANCE OFF BEFORE
SUNRISE]
On reaching the road where Miss Wilson and her party separated from
us, Uncle Lance returned to the charge: "Now, no matter how busy I
am when I get your invitation, I don't care if the irons are in the fire and
the cattle in the corral, I'll drown the fire and turn the cows out. And if
Las Palomas has a horse that'll carry me, I'll merely touch the high
places in coming. And when I get there I'm willing to do
anything,--give the bride
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