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Updated: June 27, 2025
But she was tempted very sorely tempted indeed. Sue expected her to look like a cross between an Indian squaw and a Mexican belle at dinner and Frances was sorely tempted to fulfil the Boston girl's idea of what a "cattle queen" should look like at a society function! Frances Durham Rugley was growing up.
By this time Captain Dan Rugley was able to hobble out upon the veranda, and was sitting there in his old, straight-backed chair when the cavalcade rode up. He hailed Mrs. Edwards, and welcomed her and her young friends as heartily as it was his nature so to do. "Come in, all of you!" he shouted.
Old Jonas P. Lonergan, his crutch beside him, is lying comfortably in another lounging chair. But he already looks much more vigorous. Captain Dan Rugley, as ever, is tipped back against the wall in his favorite position. Frances is with her sewing at a low table, while Pratt is lying on the rug at his mother's feet. "What's that Mr. Tooley said in his letter, Frances?" asked Pratt.
Certainly, she was not obliged to go to the bank under the present circumstances, for there was no chest now to put in the safe-keeping of that institution. Nor did Frances Rugley have many friends in the breezy, Western city with whom she might spend her time. Two years make many changes in such a fast-growing community.
"A prompt reply, Captain Rugley, if you are the old-time partner of my ancient friend, will be gratefully received by the undersigned, and joyfully by Mr. Lonergan. "Why! what do you think of that?" gasped Frances, when she had read the letter to the very last word. Her father's face was shining and there were tears in his eyes. His joy at hearing from his old companion-in-arms was unmistakable.
"But I am indeed curious about this friend of Ratty M'Gill's. And now I'll tell Silent Sam that there is a man lurking about the Bar-T who must be watched." She said nothing to Captain Rugley about sending for Lonergan until she had written. The doctor said it would be just as well not to discuss the matter much until it was accomplished.
To tell the truth, Pratt was glad Frances was not present at the luncheon. He cared a good deal less about Sue's saucy tongue than he did for the range girl's opinion of him. During these weeks that he had known Frances Rugley, he had come to see that hers was a most vigorous and interesting character. Pratt was a thoughtful young man.
"If you like the style," laughed Frances, smiling tenderly at him. "You don't? And I see she doesn't cotton much to you, Frances. What's the matter?" "She's Eastern," explained Frances, briefly. "I imagine she thinks I am crude." "'Crude'? What's 'crude'?" demanded Captain Dan Rugley. "That isn't anything very bad, is it, Frances?" and his eyes twinkled.
He belongs to the old cattle régime. He wouldn't hear until lately of putting wheat into any of the Bar-T acres." "Ah, well, by all accounts he is one of the few men who still know how to make money out of cows," laughed Pratt Sanderson. "Thank you, Miss Rugley. I can't let you do anything more for me " "You are a long way from the Edwards' place," she said.
A great reaper was shown at work; likewise a traction gang-plow and a motor threshing machine. The progress in agriculture in the Panhandle during the last half dozen years really excited some of the older residents. "Did you ever see the beat of that?" demanded Captain Rugley. "I'm blest if I wouldn't like to own one of them. See those little dinguses turn up the ribbons of sod!
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