Essential Western Novels - Volume 4. Max Brand

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СКАЧАТЬ grazing rights on Government land, had been forced into the operation of the ranch while they sought frantically and futilely for a buyer all the way from the Atlantic to the Pacific.

      An experienced cattle man was operating the business for them in an endeavor to make expenses; and following his policy of taking advantage of every opportunity to augment the income, he had leased the home ranch together with the hunting and fishing privileges of the entire property to Cory Blaine, who had thus become a pioneer in the dude ranch business.

      It takes time and capital to establish a going business, and Cory Blaine had discovered that a dude ranch was no exception to the rule.

      For two years it had been rather hard sledding, but at last he felt that the venture was on the high road to success. The number of his guests was satisfactory and so were their bank accounts, but even so Cory Blaine was not perfectly satisfied. He wanted more than a living. He wanted big money; and the more he came in contact with people who had it, the more determined he had become to have it himself; for Cory Blaine's ambition was developed almost to the point of a disease.

      He was sitting late one afternoon upon the front porch of the ranch house with some of his guests when a buckboard swung into sight on the dusty road that wound for miles through the property down to the railroad.

      "Here comes the tenderfoot," said a man from Boston, who, three weeks previously, had never been west of Philadelphia.

      "I hope he can play bridge," said a fat lady in khaki bloomers and high heeled shoes.

      "I'm just hoping he can stay on a horse without help," said Blaine.

      The buckboard that was approaching, drawn by a team of broncos, was the result of Cory Blaine's instinct for showmanship. He used it exclusively to transport his guests between the railroad and the ranch house, feeling that it lent an atmosphere that no automobile could induce.

      The man who drove the buckboard was also a showman, as was evidenced by the magnificent style in which he drew up in front of the ranch house, covering the last two or three hundred yards at a gallop, setting the broncos on their haunches in a cloud of dust at the finish.

      A couple of cowhands had sauntered over from the bunk house when the buckboard had first appeared in the distance; and as Bruce Marvel alighted, they were unroping his trunk at the back of the vehicle while they sized him up with inward contempt. All other eyes were upon the new arrival as Cory Blaine descended from the porch and took him by the hand.

      "You'd be Mr. Marvel, I reckon," said Blaine.

      "Yes," replied the newcomer.

      "My name's Blaine," said the host. "I'm glad to meet you."

      "Thanks," said Marvel.

      "Have a good trip?"

      "Yes, but a dirty one. I'd like to go to my room and clean up."

      "Sure," said Blaine. "Come ahead. The boys will be right up with your stuff," and he led the way into the house, followed by his new guest.

      "Here ye are," said Blaine, opening the door of a small box- like room. "Guess you'll find everything here you need. When yer done come on out and meet the rest of the folks. We feed at six o'clock. It's pretty near that now."

      "By the way," said Marvel as Blaine was leaving, "shall I dress for dinner?"

      "Aint you dressed now?" asked the other.

      "I mean do the men wear dinner clothes?—tuxedos, you know."

      Blaine tried to hide the pity in his heart as he explained that that was not at all necessary; but when he closed the door behind him he grinned; and upon the other side of the door his guest grinned, too.

      "What do you suppose?" asked Blaine as he joined the others on the porch.

      "What?" asked a girl in overalls.

      "He wants to know if he should put on a spike tailed coat and a stove pipe hat for dinner."

      "My God!" exclaimed a young woman, who was rigged up in an outfit that would have turned Tom Mix green with envy. "He's got a lot to learn."

      "Perhaps," said the blond girl in overalls, "he is just trying to be himself and act natural. You know there are a lot of people who dress for dinner every night."

      "When you are in Rome, do as the Romans do," said the man from Boston.

      "Give him a chance," said the blond girl, "and don't forget that on the first camping trip we took after you arrived you brought along green silk pajamas."

      "Oh, come now, Kay," he expostulated. "That's different."

      "Did you notice his luggage?" said the Tom Mix girl. "Brand new and his clothes, too. He must have bought a whole new outfit just to rough it in."

      "I hope he can play bridge," said the fat lady.

      "I'll bet he plays ping-pong," said Bert Adams, the man from Boston.

      "I think he is real nice looking," interjected Miss Pruell, Kay White's spinster aunt.

      Twenty minutes later silence fell upon the company as Marvel came out onto the porch—one of those uncomfortable silences that may last but a moment and still seem endless.

      This one Cory Blaine relieved by introducing Marvel to his other guests, and a moment later the clatter of an iron pipe on a metal triangle announced the evening meal.

      At the long table Bruce Marvel found himself seated between Kay White, the blond in overalls, and Dora Crowell, the Tom Mix girl.

      He had noticed the difference in the apparel of the two girls; and though he was duly impressed by the ornate trappings of Dora, he thought that the other girl somehow looked more genuine in her blue overalls pulled over high heeled boots, her denim workshirt, and a bandanna handkerchief knotted loosely about her throat. He surmised that she belonged here and this supposition prompted his first question.

      "This is your home, Miss White?" he asked.

      "It commences to look like it," she replied. "I have been here two months now, but my real home is in California."

      "What time do we start tomorrow, Cory?" asked Adams.

      "Almost any time you folks want to," replied Blaine. "The chuck wagon went on ahead today as far as Mill Creek. That's only about fifteen miles. I didn't want to make it too hard the first day."

      "We're going on a lion hunt," Kay White explained to Marvel. "We had planned on leaving yesterday, but when Cory got your telegram he decided to wait so that you could go along with us."

      "Can you ride?" demanded Dora Crowell.

      "I guess I can manage," replied Marvel, "but I suppose these cow horses aren't much like polo ponies."

      "Do you play bridge, Mr. Marvel?" demanded Mrs. Talbot.

      "Do you play bridge here?" he asked.

      "I can't get any one to play with me," complained the fat lady. "Those that play say they СКАЧАТЬ