The Ranch Girls at Home Again Part 11

"BUT why won't either Jean or Frieda come with us?" Olive asked a week after the unfortunate accident at the Rainbow Mine. With a surprise that she did not pretend to hide Jack Ralston turned to look at her friend.

"I thought I had explained to you, dear," she protested, "that Jean said she felt it her duty to write a long letter of sympathy to the Princess Colonna. You see she only heard yesterday of the death of the old Prince and though she does not feel that the Princess will be exactly inconsolable (he was so much older and they thought so differently about many things), yet of course Jean has to say that she is dreadfully sorry and is there anything she can do and all that. It would not surprise me in the least if the Princess came west and made us a visit. I told Jean to invite her. She was born in this part of the country and I rather think she will be glad to get away from Rome while she is in heavy mourning. It is a pity she did not have a son, isn't it? The t.i.tle will have to go to her husband's nephew, Giovanni Colonna. You remember he and Jean were such good friends."

But although the two girls were walking along side by side toward the stables back of the Rainbow Lodge, it was plain that Olive Van Mater was not listening with any real interest to what her companion was saying.

"Then why won't Frieda ride with us?" she expostulated. "I am sure it has been ages since we four girls had a long ride together and it is a wonderfully beautiful morning. What has become of Frieda lately anyhow--I almost never see her except at meal times?"

With a laugh Jack Ralston laid her arm lightly across her friend's shoulder.

"Poor Olive, to have only my poor society! But, dear, we have not had but one other ride together, the one that we took to the Indian village soon after your arrival. Does it bore you so dreadfully to have only me as a companion? You must not come with me then, simply because I asked you. I can get one of the boys to ride over the ranch with me; perhaps Carlos would be willing to do that much! I don't know what has happened to Frieda, but the child is making a perfect martyr of herself. That poor young Professor seems not to wish anyone to do things for him except Frieda or Ruth. You know he perfectly hates the sight of the rest of us. And as Ruth is so busy with Jimmikins and the house she can't nurse him a great deal. So he just lies in his room, which is Frieda's by the way, and moans and groans until Frieda comes to amuse him. What do you think I beheld our baby doing the other day? Reading him some dreadful article on Egyptian Hieroglyphics from a learned magazine. She hadn't the faintest idea what it was all about and she looked like a big yellow b.u.t.terfly imprisoned in a dark place. I am sure I am awfully sorry the erudite young professor had to break his right leg in the depth of Rainbow Mine and that we have him on our hands for six weeks or more--almost as sorry as he is I expect. Still I am not going to have Frieda sacrificing herself to him much longer. I mean to tell her tomorrow that it is quite unnecessary. He is a dreadfully spoiled person."

"But wouldn't Frank have enjoyed this long ride with you this morning, Jack?" Olive repeated, still refusing to take any interest in what Jack was saying, but instead clinging obstinately to her own train of thought. "I am sure Jim would have let Frank off from the trip with him if he had known that you had to take this long ride to hunt up the lost mares and colts."

Jack nodded, but her expression was hurt and puzzled. "Of course Jim would have let Frank come with me or would have come himself if he had known of the trouble. But both Jim and Frank were away before I heard of the loss. Besides, it does not make any difference, for I am sure I have ridden over Rainbow Ranch looking up our lost horses and cattle ever since I was fourteen or fifteen years old. But if you think the ride may be too long for you, please don't come, Olive. I shan't be in the least hurt if you don't feel like it. Kiss me good-by and go back to the Lodge. Ruth will be overjoyed at your return and I'll be perfectly all right with Carlos."

But although Jack Ralston spoke so cheerfully and in such good temper she was not truthful in pretending that Olive's present att.i.tude was not hurting her feelings. The truth is that she felt that Olive had not been exactly the same toward her since Frank Kent's arrival. And if Jack had needed any further proof to add to her past conviction this was sufficient. Always before, Olive had loved her better than any one else, even more than she did her friend, Miss Winthrop. And Jack was certain that she had done nothing to make Olive angry or to wound her--she herself was so utterly unchanged in her own affection.

What a hopeless, horrid puzzle it all was and of all persons was not Jacqueline Ralston the most inadequate for straightening it out? She had no methods but those of frankness. If only she dared ask Olive how she actually felt.

But Olive would hardly have been able to explain to her, because in these last few weeks the girl had not understood herself. Before Frank Kent's coming to the Rainbow Lodge she had been sure of having entirely recovered from her past fancy for him. Had she not fought it all out in those final weeks in England when she had realized the extent of Frank's devotion to Jack and the impossibility of her own position? And now--well, whatever turn events might take, Olive felt the fault would be largely Jacqueline's. For why did Jack fail to return Frank's affection? Why did she continue to treat him with such disregard and yet keep him lingering on at the ranch? Really Olive wondered if her own emotion was not now one more of sympathy for Frank and impatience with Jack. Surely Frank was too fine a fellow from every point of view to be trifled with. And no one would ever have suspected Jack of being a girl of such a character.

Olive again looked closely into her friend's face and what she saw there for the moment disarmed her. Of course she was more angry with Jack than she had ever dreamed it possible that she could be and yet she had not meant to wound her over this small question of their having another ride together to search for lost stock. Perhaps this very morning Jack might be in a humor to confide in her the cause of her mysterious conduct. She must have some vital reason, it was so unlike her to be cruel or not to know her own mind.

"Of course I won't go back to the Lodge," Olive finally protested. "For I do wish the ride immensely; it was only that I thought it might be a pleasure for the others too."

And to this half-hearted apology the other girl made no reply.

A few moments later, having arrived at the beautiful new stables built within the past year at the Rainbow Ranch, Jack and Olive found their two horses already saddled. And a little while after, finding the Indian boy, Carlos, at his own tent door, the three of them mounted and rode away.

Now riding with Jacqueline Ralston over their great thousand-acre Wyoming ranch to seek for cattle or horses that had gone astray was apt to be fairly strenuous, and no one unaccustomed to riding should ever have thought of attempting it. Yet Olive had done the same thing dozens of times in the years when she had first came to live at Rainbow Ranch, and on starting out this morning had no idea of growing tired before her friend did.

The first part of their trip was easy enough, for although Jack cantered along fairly rapidly she made no detours, only keeping a careful lookout in all possible directions. For she had no thought of finding the lost mares and their young colts anywhere within the immediate neighborhood of that part of the ranch which was apt to be ridden over oftener than the more distant fields. And Carlos had been asked to make the few necessary excursions whenever a rise in the landscape or a group of trees or rocks made a possible hiding place.

But a short time before midday the three riders came to a distant part of Rainbow Creek, where the character of the ranch land changed and where there were frequent hummocks and sand hills and great boulders split into natural caves and canyons. This part of the creek had no connection with the Rainbow Mine but was sometimes used in an emergency as a drinking place for the stock, although the stock was not supposed to wander here without guidance, as there were many ravines and dangerous places where especially the young cattle or colts were apt to be injured.

Here the riding under Jacqueline's guidance became more difficult and fatiguing. For not only did she leave the ordinary beaten trail, but she made her horse pick his way along what appeared an utterly impossible track over rocks, in the deep loose sand, now following a partly dry creek bed and occasionally splas.h.i.+ng through water so deep that it reached almost to her riding boots. For another hour Olive followed, not realizing her own exhaustion, but wondering why her breath should be coming in such short gasps and why her back should ache in such an unaccountable fas.h.i.+on.

Curiously enough it was Carlos who first discovered Olive's predicament.

For the past ten minutes he had been riding as close by her side as was possible under the conditions, not speaking a single word, but examining her closely with his small, burning black eyes. And when Olive, without being conscious of it, turned a shade whiter, even then he did not speak to her but instead rode silently forward until he was opposite Jack.

"All women have not the strength of men!" he began sullenly. The girl stared at him in amazement, not guessing what he meant.

Then Carlos grew angry and his words came faster than usual. "If you think more of lost animals than of her whom you call friend, it is well that you should go on until she falls. Have I not often heard and now see with my own eyes that there are squaws who care nothing for their own s.e.x."

Half rising in her saddle Jacqueline Ralston lifted her riding whip, and almost before realizing what she was doing she had struck the Indian boy sharply across his lean shoulders.

"You are not to speak of American women as squaws, Carlos. How often have Mr. Colter and I told you that you were never to do it? And, moreover, you are to understand that I will not endure your impertinence. What has happened to put you in so evil a mood?" Jack asked more quietly now, sorry for her own loss of temper. For she realized in a small measure just how keenly an Indian feels the degradation of a blow from an enemy, unless he is able to return it with increased vengeance. And Jack had no illusion about Carlos' att.i.tude toward her. He had turned a kind of ashy white under his bronze skin and his body had quivered once and then become perfectly tense, not from the force of the blow, which had not cut deeply, but from his own pa.s.sion.

However, before either the boy or Jack could speak again, Olive had ridden up between them, grieved and frightened over her friend's action and wondering what could have occurred between them in so short a time.

"Jack dear, what has Carlos done or said?" she demanded quickly. "It was not fair of you to strike him, knowing that he could make no defense."

Instantly Jacqueline Ralston felt her face flus.h.i.+ng with a swift rus.h.i.+ng of hot blood to her cheeks until her temples pounded and her eyes flashed. Never before in their entire acquaintance had she remembered being really angry with Olive. Yet had she not borne a good deal already that day and for several weeks beforehand in Olive's indifference and critical air toward her? Now in this trouble she had just had with Carlos, Olive was immediately taking the Indian boy's part without even asking her for an explanation. Nevertheless a second glance at her friend's face made her instantly control her own emotion, appreciating at the same time what Carlos' impertinent speech to her had meant.

"You are tired, Olive. I am so sorry," she replied at once, instead of answering the other girl's question. "I did not realize how hard we had been riding, or that you are out of practice after a year in New York while the rest of us were here at the ranch. We'll have luncheon and rest and then maybe you'll feel better."

Jack nodded curtly to Carlos to a.s.sist Olive in dismounting while she slid off her own horse without help. Then she put her arm about the other girl, leaving the boy to lead the three horses. In a little while she and Olive had found a flat rock shadowed by a cliff from the sun.

Here Olive sat down while Jack opened up their luncheon boxes and made the necessary preparations. But all the time she was reflecting upon what she had best do or say to the Indian boy. She was sorry that she had struck him, although still extremely angry at his manner and speech to her. If Carlos had felt worried over Olive's exhaustion it would have been simple enough to have told her in a more polite fas.h.i.+on. The truth was that she and Jim were both getting extremely tired of the Indian boy's presence on Rainbow Ranch. She would talk over this incident today with her guardian and ask him if he felt that she owed Carlos an apology. If he did she would make whatever reparation she could and after that they would try and find another home for him. But at present she was still too annoyed to wish to have the boy near her.

"You can find water for our horses and tie them somewhere not far away, Carlos," Jack ordered, leaving Olive and walking a few yards across the sand to where the boy stood, still sullen and resentful in his manner.

"Then ride on for another half hour and see if you can find any of the lost mares or colts. When you return we will have lunch saved for you."

And so Jack Ralston temporarily dismissed the difficulty confronting her. For in any case it was disagreeable to have Carlos staring at them while she and Olive ate, and she did not wish him as a companion at their luncheon.

Carlos' society could hardly have increased the discomfort of their meal. For Olive was either too weary or too vexed to wish to talk, and Jack in too strange a tumult of feeling.

Then suddenly, as the two girls were sitting there together in the warm, caressing suns.h.i.+ne, hardly more than a few feet apart and yet sundered by leagues of misunderstanding, it seemed to Jacqueline that she could no longer endure all that she was suffering for her friend, unless Olive made some sign that her sacrifice was worth while. For Jack made no effort to hide from herself, however much she concealed it from other people, that each day of her life she was learning to care more and more for Frank Kent, for his love and his complete understanding and sympathy with her temperament. She knew that she had many faults, but she also knew that Frank was aware of them and forgave them. However, there was one fault that she did not have and it was not fair that she should bear the ignominy of it. She would no longer hurt and confuse the man she cared for by her apparent inability to make up her mind.

Jack's full red lips closed more tightly than was usual to them as she lifted her head, showing the firm line of her throat and chin. Then she took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders and glancing with her wide open, heavily fringed gray eyes directly into the eyes of her friend.

Olive was more rested, was less pale, but was evidently still as much estranged from her. And though the conviction had come upon her suddenly, Jack felt convinced that this was the appointed moment when she must wrest the truth from the other girl. She hated herself for her own stupidity in not finding out by more subtle means and scarcely knew now what she intended to do or say. It was as if she stood on the bank of an icy stream with the sh.o.r.e of truth on the other side, a sh.o.r.e which by some method she must reach. Therefore, with Jacqueline Ralston's disposition, there appeared but one means. Boldly she must plunge in, no matter what the result.

"Olive dear," Jack began abruptly, not looking at her friend, but at a small smoke-colored cloud over in the western sky, "I know you are angry with me about Carlos and I am sorry. He was impertinent, but I don't suppose you would think that justifies what I did. But it is not about what happened just now that I want to talk. You have not felt like you once did for me for several weeks--not since Frank Kent came to the Lodge. Would you mind telling me why?"

To Jack's directness of thought and speech her friend by this time should have grown accustomed. And indeed until now Olive had always loved and admired Jack for it. But today she was tired and her head ached and this unexpected question had taken her completely by surprise.

The girl's dark cheeks flushed richly and her ordinarily gentle expression changed.

"Jack, you are absurd!" she answered irritably. "What right have you anyhow to consider that my feeling for you has any connection with Frank Kent? What does Frank mean to me?"

Now if only Jack had been content with this answer or had possessed some of Jean Bruce's tact and resourcefulness! She had neither. So her gray eyes darkened and her face grew white and unhappy.

"Forgive me, Olive," she murmured, humbly enough for proud, high-tempered Jack, "but that is what I, oh, so much want you to tell me. For sometimes I have thought that perhaps you do like Frank just a little bit more than an ordinary friend. And if it is true, dear, don't you feel that we have been close enough to each other to have you make me your confidant?"

It was very gently put, after all, and therefore Olive should not have been so wounded or so angry. However, and perhaps because there was so much of truth in the other girl's suggestion, Olive was both hurt and embittered.

"You have not the shadow of a right, Jacqueline Ralston, to say a thing like that to me," she returned with the pa.s.sion and protest of a too sensitive nature. "How dare you sit there and calmly suggest to me that I am in love with Frank Kent when you know perfectly well that he cares for no one in this world but you. Do you suppose that I have no pride and no self-respect?"

And then, dropping her head in her hands, Olive began crying, hardly understanding her own tears, so much were they a combination of pain and of petulance. For the questions she had just put to Jack were the very ones that she had so often asked herself. And if she had found no answer to them, how could any one else?

But Jack did not attempt making a reply. For a moment she was silent, feeling miserably conscious of the failure she had just made. For had she not merely succeeded in mortifying her friend without arriving one bit nearer the truth which she sought?

But by and by Jack laid her hand caressingly on the other girl's dark hair. "Don't cry, Olive please," she begged. "You know what a stupid person I am and how often Jean and Frieda think I do and say the wrong thing. Here comes Carlos and when he has eaten his lunch you must let him take you back to the Lodge. You are too tired to ride any farther and I can manage very well by myself, or else you can send one of the stable boys this way to find me."

Without making a reply Olive continued to sob, only now a little more quietly, and in the meanwhile allowing Jack to make all the arrangements for her return home. It was unfortunate perhaps that she also paid so little attention to the Indian boy, who was sitting within a few yards of her, pretending to eat. In reality he was either keeping his eyes fixed moodily upon her, or else turning them upon Jacqueline Ralston with such an intensity of dislike that had she been aware of it, she must have been vaguely disturbed.

A little later Olive and Carlos started home together. In farewell Olive simply nodded her head to Jack, showing no other sign of forgiveness or affection; but she had only ridden for a comparatively short distance when she was as bitterly sorry and as ashamed of herself as Jack had previously been, and at the moment would have liked to turn back. She realized that she had been both unreasonable and unkind. What could have been the matter with her? Surely her fatigue must have had something to do with it, for people were rarely sensible when over-tired. Jack had not intended breaking down the barrier of her reserve for no reason but idle curiosity.

Then suddenly Olive's hands tightened on her bridle reins and her black eyes softened. How unutterably blind she had been for so long! For was not Jack's recent question to her the keynote of the whole puzzling situation? Jack certainly must fear that she cared more for Frank than she should. Would this not perfectly explain her att.i.tude toward him since the beginning of his love-making? Olive quickly recalled the final weeks of their visit in England, then Jack's repeated efforts to thrust her into Frank's society and so to evade him herself! Then since Jack Ralston's return to the ranch had she not resolutely refused to let Frank Kent come to see her until Olive was also at the Lodge?