Читать книгу Grace Harlowe's Overland Riders at Circle O Ranch онлайн

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“I reckon, but honest, Joe, my rheumatiz crinkles my fingers so that I can’t throw a gun any more, let alone pulling the trigger,” complained Sam.

Bindloss laughed uproariously.

“The feller who reckons on gettin’ you because of your rheumatiz is a dead man before he leaves home that day. Say, folks, the boys are having a little shindy in the ranch-house this evenin’, and they’d be mighty pleased to have you all come over. The boys are a rough gang, but they will treat you fine, you ladies.”

“What kind of a shindy?” asked Nora.

“A dance. They have a fiddle and a fellow who scrapes it, and they may walk on your toes, but they’ll feel worse about it than you do.”

“Oh, goodie! A dance! Of course we will go. Come on, folks. Oh, Mr. Bindloss, do you ever dream?” asked Emma soberly.

“Help!” murmured J. Elfreda.

“Why, yes. I reckon I do, like everybody else does when they get outside of too much chuck,” laughed the rancher.

“Do you ever make a psychoanalysis of your dreams, Mr. Bindloss?” questioned Emma, laying a hand on the rancher’s arm and gazing up into his eyes.