Majesty's Rancho by Zane Grey

Author:Zane Grey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Western, Fiction
Publisher: Reading Essentials
Published: 1942-07-07T05:00:00+00:00

* * *

Lance was waiting for Starr the following night at sunset. Inside Nels was banging pans in unusual excitement.

“Pard, what’n hell’s wrong with you?” demanded Ren, staring.

“Behold a—a—devastated man!”

“Wal, whatever’n hell thet means you shore air it. . . . So you obeyed them orders?”

“Yes. They were Stewart’s.”

“An’ you had to ride in town with Majesty—all alone—and meet her friends—all them peaches we jest know air comin’—an’ be a swell lady’s guy?”

“You said it!”

“My Gawd, how tough! Jest the rottenest break ever. Wait till I bed down my hawse an’ I’ll be ready to be deevasstated.”

After supper Ren got up to help Nels with the dishes and he said: “Okay now, pard. Shoot! I reckon I’m strong enough now.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Tell us aboot Majesty’s outfit.”

“Well, the boys are all nice clean-cut college chaps. You’ll like them, especially the big football player, Snake Elwell. He’s a regular fellow.”

“Aw, nix on the fellers. It’s the gurls Nels an’ me want to heah about.”

“Six of them, Ren. Six! And they might have been picked for a swell movie. . . . The gang arrived at ten-thirty. They stayed in town until three. Five awful hours! If I performed one job, there were a hundred. They probably were kidding me or Madge, for the whole bunch of crazy women went after me. Poor little me! While the boys hung around Madge. They ate and they drank. Can that crowd lap up the booze? I’m telling you. And they had to see everything and everybody in Bolton.”

“Swell. But thet ain’t tellin’ us how they stacked up.”

“Can’t you wait till you lamp them?”

“Nope. Me an’ Nels hev artistic feelin’s.”

“Well, here goes—the way I got it. Allie Leland first, evidently Madge’s best friend, a slim stylish girl with gray eyes, the peach of the bunch, I’d say, though not in looks. Next Maramee Joyce, brown beauty built like Jean Harlow, a knockout. Next a little southern girl, looks like sixteen but must be twenty-two. Dark, vivacious, with a smile that would drive any man nutty, and a sweet southern accent. Nels will fall for her. Then Pequita Nelson. Part Spanish, Ren. Creamy olive skin, great dreamy sloe-black eyes, willowy and graceful. Blue-blood, pard. . . . Then Selma Thorne, a blonde that, if you never saw Madge, would do the trick. And last Beulah Allen. . . . Whew! Ren, here’s a peach that’s a composite of honey, dynamite and autumn leaves of red and gold. Pretty! Why, she’s so pretty I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Red-headed, roguish-eyed, and a shape! What’s more she’s a devil clear down to her toes.”

“Pard!” gasped Ren, utterly fascinated. “What’n hell air we up agin? It was bad enough with only Majesty heah. We shore air a deevasstated outfit.”

“Ren, you should have heard the whoop those college tenderfeet let out when they saw Bonita.”

“Ahuh. Wal, I’ll be liable to shoot a laig off one of them,” growled Ren.

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