Jessica Trent: Her Life On A Ranch Part 8

Clear out. Get!"

Samson went--as far as the long, open window, and stepped out upon the porch. He did not see Mr. Hale, who had seated himself in a rocker, an unintentional witness of a scene he would gladly have missed, and putting a whistle to his lips blew a summons which was understood by every fellow-workman on the ranch. Then he quietly re-entered the house, folded his arms, and leaned carelessly against the door frame.

Senor Bernal started up as if he would forcibly eject the herder, but thought better of this and sank back nonchalantly in his great chair.

Jessica had placed herself behind her mother, and clasped Mrs. Trent's shoulders with the protecting tenderness habitual to her. Ned had sprung to his mother's lap and Luis continued his nap at her feet; while all seemed waiting for some fresh development of the affair.

This came and speedily; for, in answer to Samson's whistle, there filed over the porch and into the room, Joe, the smith; Marty, the gardener; and Carpenter John. There was missing old "Forty-niner," commonly the dominant fifth of this odd quintet, but n.o.body wondered much at that.

Doubtless he was polis.h.i.+ng his darling's rifle and making ready for some astonis.h.i.+ng display of her skill wherewith to dazzle the stranger upon the morrow. In any case he rarely disagreed with the opinions of his cronies and was sure to be one with them in the matter of that hour.

With a respectful salute to Mrs. Trent, a grin toward the children, and a scowl for Antonio, these stalwart ranchmen lined up against the wall and stood at attention. Mr. Hale, observant through the doorway, again noticed that each of these was well along in years, that each had some slight physical infirmity, and that, despite these facts, each looked a man of unusual strength and most entire devotion. Indeed, the gaze fixed upon the little lady, was one of adoration, and the situation boded ill for anybody who meant harm to her.

"Ahem. What say, mates? Has the hour struck?"

"The hour has struck," answered John Benton, solemnly, s.h.i.+fting his weight from his lame leg to his sound one.

Samson strode a mighty step forward and pulled his forelock.

"Then I state, madam, that we here, on behalf of ourselves and our whole crew, now, and hereby do, throw off all 'legiance to that there Spanish skunk, a-settin' in your easiest chair, and appoint Our Lady Jess, captain of the good s.h.i.+p Sobrante. Allowin' you to be the admiral of that same, madam, but takin' no more orders from anybody save and excepting her--under you, of course--from this time forth, so help us."

Then there burst from the trio of throats a cheer that shook the windows, and called a contemptuous laugh from the superintendent so valiantly defied.

The cheer died in an ominous silence which Senor Bernal improved.

"Highly dramatic and most edifying, _en verdad._ Senor, I kiss your hands in even greater devotion. But the play has one little drawback.

To I, me, myself, belongs Sobrante. Already I have had the law of which you spoke. My claim I have proved. From the long back generations the good t.i.tle from the Mission Padres to my own fathers, yes. Sobrante?

_Si._ More and better. Wide lies the valley of Paraiso d'Oro. Mine, Mine. All--all mine. No?"

He rose to his feet and pompously paced up and down the room, insolently handsome and proud of the fact, while out on the darkened porch Mr. Hale had heard a word which set his own pulses beating faster and the row of ranchmen started forward as if minded to throw the braggart out of the house.

But Jessica stepped forth and cried, triumphantly, though still with an effort toward that courtesy she desired.

"Beg pardon, Senor Antonio Bernal, but surely you are quite mistaken. My father taught me some things. He said I was not too young to learn them. He--he only--has the t.i.tle deed to dear Sobrante, and I--I only--know the safe place where it is kept!"

Antonio halted in his strutting march and for a moment his face grew pale. The next instant he had regained more than his former confidence, and with a sneering laugh, exclaimed:

"Seeing is believing, no? To the satisfaction of the a.s.sembled most honorable company," here he bowed with mock politeness, "let this most interesting doc.u.ment be produced. _Si._"

Jessica flew from the room and in an intolerable anxiety the whole "honorable company" awaited her long-delayed return.

CHAPTER VI

NIGHT VISIONS

When the tension of waiting was becoming intolerable, and Mrs. Trent was already rising to seek her daughter, Jessica reappeared in the doorway.

Her white face and frightened eyes told her story without words, but her mother forced herself to ask:

"Did you find it, darling?"

"Mother, it is gone!"

"Gone!"

"Gone. Yet it was only that dear, last day when he was with us, in the morning, before he set out for the mines, that he showed it to me, safe and sound in its place. He was to tell you, too, that night--but----"

"It was that, then, which was on his mind, and I could not understand.

I--Antonio Bernal, he entrusted you and you must know; where is that missing deed?"

"Deed, senora? This day, just ended, is it not that I have been over all the records and there is none of any deed to Sobrante later than my own--or that proves my claim. In truth, the honorable Dona Gabriella is right, indeed. I was the trusted friend of the dead senor, and if any such precious doc.u.ment existed, would I not have known it? _Si._ What I do know is the worry, the trouble, the impossibility of such a paper broke the senor's heart. It does not exist. Sobrante is mine. He knew that this was so--I had often spoken----"

The untruth he was about to utter did not pa.s.s his lips. There was that in the white face of Gabriella Trent which arrested his words, as, clasping her boy in her arms, she glided into the darkened hall and entered her own rooms beyond.

The "boys" had not moved, nor Jessica followed, and she now firmly confronted the manager, saying:

"I am sorry to tell you, Antonio Bernal, that you are not acting square.

My father did have that t.i.tle deed, and I believe you know it. Somebody has taken it from the place where his own hands put it, but I will find it. This home is ours, is all my mother's. n.o.body shall ever take it from her. n.o.body. You hear me say that, Senor Antonio Bernal, and you, dear 'boys?'"

"Ay, ay," echoed her friends, heartily; but the superintendent regarded her as he might have done some amusing little insect.

"Very pretty, senorita. The filial devotion, almost beautiful. But the facts--well, am I not merciful and generous, I? There is no haste.

Indeed, no. A month----"

"Before a month is out I will have found that deed and placed it in my darling mother's hands. I may be too young to understand the 'business' you talk about so much, but I am not too young to save my mother's happiness. I can see that paper now, in my mind, and I remember exactly how it looked inside and out. It seemed such a little thing to be worth a whole, great ranch. I don't know how nor where, but somehow and somewhere, I shall find that paper. 'Boys,' will you help me?"

"To the last drop of our hearts' blood!" cried John Benton, and the others echoed, "Ay, ay!"

Antonio thought it time to end this scene and walked toward the porch, at the further end of which was another long window opening into his own apartments. But he was not permitted to leave so easily. Great Samson placed himself in the manager's path and remarked:

"There's no call to lose sight of the main business 'count o' this little side-play of yours. We boys come up here to-night to quit your employ and hire out to Our Lady Jess. We're all agreed, every man jack of us. Your day's over. Account of Mrs. Trent and the kids, we'd like things done quiet and decent. There's a good horse of yours in the stable and though there isn't any moon, you know the roads well.

If you tarry for breakfast, likely you won't have much appet.i.te to eat it. More'n that, the senora, as you call her, has waited on your whelps.h.i.+p for just the last time. Before you start you might as well pay up some of our back wages, and hand over to the mistress the funds you've been keeping from her."

"Insolent! Stand aside. How dare you? Let me pa.s.s."

"I'm not quite through yet. There's no real call to have talk with such as you, but we 'boys' kind of resent being set down as plumb fools. We've seen through you, though we've kept our mouths shut. Now they're open; leastways, mine is. This here notion of yours about ownin' Sobrante is a bird of recent hatchin'. 'Tisn't full-fledged yet, and 's likely never to be. Your first idea was to run the ranch down till your mistress had to give it up out of sheer bad luck. Fail, mortgage, or such like. Oranges didn't sell for what they ought; olives wasn't worth shucks; some little varmint got to eating the raisin grapes; mine petered out; feathers growing poorer every plucking, though the birds are getting valuabler. Never had accounts quite ready--you, that was a master hand at figures when the boss took you in and made you, You----"

Antonio strode forward, furious, and with uplifted hand.

"You rascal! This to me--I, Antonio Bernal, descendant of--Master of Sobrante and Paraiso, I----"

"Master? Humph! Owner? Fiddlesticks! Why, that little tacker there, asleep on the floor," pointing to Luis, "is likelier heir to this old ranch than you. The country's full of Garcias and always has been, Pedro says. Garcia himself, when all's told. As for Bernals, who ever heard of more'n one o' them? That's you, you skunk! Now, usin' your own fine, highfalutin' language: 'Go. _Vamos._ Depart. Clear out. _Get!_'"

"I go--because it so suits me, I, myself. But I return. New servants will be with me and your quarters must be empty. Let me pa.s.s."

"Certain. Anything to oblige. But don't count on them quarters. We couldn't leave them if we would 'cause we've all took root. Been growing so long; become indigenous to the soil, like the boss'

experiments. Thrive so well might have been born here and certainly mean to die on the spot. Going? Well, good-night. Call again. _Adios._"