The Ranch Girls and Their Great Adventure
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Ten minutes later, as she had said, Jack slid quietly downstairs so as not to arouse her children. She smelt the delicious aroma of the coffee in the old Lodge kitchen, once presided over by old Aunt Ellen, who had died a few years before. She also discovered Jim helping himself to the first cup when she appeared. But instead he gave it to her, got another for himself and handed her a napkin filled with sandwiches which Ruth had provided. Then they drank and munched as silently and contentedly as they always had in each other's company during many years and various experiences.
But they had both stepped out on the big front porch of the Lodge, when Jim suddenly swung round and put his hands on Jack's slender shoulders.
He had seen something in her face which the others had not, perhaps because he had always cared for her most.
"Ain't anybody been doin' anything to you, you don't like, Boss?" Jim demanded, purposely breaking into the old careless speech he had used before Ruth's coming to Rainbow Ranch to educate them all, and Jim more than any one. "Because if anyone has, you know you can always count on your old pardner."
But Jack only laughed and shook her head rubbing it against his sleeve, as a young colt does. This had been one of the things she used to do as a girl, half as an expression of affection and half to conceal her embarrassment.
Then Jack ran out to where her horse was waiting. She had on a khaki riding costume, a new one, but except for that, pretty much of the same kind that she had been accustomed to wearing as Jacqueline Ralston.
She was now looking over the horse critically.
"He is one of the most perfect creatures I ever saw, Jim. I don't care what other people say, I like our fine western horses better than any others in the world."
"Try him, Jack," and Jim lifted her lightly up.
The next instant she had gone down the avenue like a streak of light, whirled and come back again.
"His movement seems perfect, too, but I'll have to give him more of a test before I can decide."
She then started off again with Jim Colter beside her.
"If you like him, Jack, the horse is a present from me. I got him and had him broken for you. I don't ever want anyone else to use him."
Jack's face flushed. "Jim, there never was anybody so good to me as you have always been, and no one who has ever understood me so well. I don't mean that there is much to understand, but what there is I know you believe the best of."
"Well, I don't expect there is anybody who began to know you as soon as I did, Jack," Jim Colter answered, realizing again that there was something behind Jack's words which she did not exactly wish to confide in him.
It was all very well for the rest of the family to say Jack didn't look a day older. She was better looking than she used to be, if that was what they were talking about, and her figure looked very slim and sweet and girlish, as she rode there beside him, as gracefully and as much at ease as ever. But Jack's expression was different, there were shadows under her eyes, no matter how her lips were smiling. Jim remembered that even if he had liked Frank Kent, he never had thought much of Englishmen as husbands for American girls.
But he said nothing more on the subject to Jack, only pointing out objects in the familiar, old landscape which they both loved, and realizing that if Jack had anything to tell him she would do so of her own accord later on.
They were late to breakfast, of course, so they found that all the others, having finished, were out on the lawn waiting.
"I suppose Jim tried to show you every horse and every cow on the ranch, Jack," Ruth began. "I hope you are not worn out, child. I told him to allow you one night's rest."
Ruth Colter was growing very matronly these days with her husband and son and two daughters to look after. She and Jim were to have two other daughters, to repeat as they always said, another group of four new Ranch Girls. But as yet only two had put in their appearance.
"Yes, and after she has had breakfast I want to take Jack and everybody down to the Rainbow Mine. I always feel it belongs more to Ralph, and to me than to the others. Oh, simply because my husband was its first engineer."
Jean's eyes were as brown and velvety as ever and she wore that little expression of pride and self satisfaction that comes into the faces of so many women who are married to successful men. It is as if they shared the pride and glory of the success, without any of the effort or necessary disappointment.
"Remember, Henry, when you and Ralph were more or less blown up going down the shaft of the old mine. It was after that, Frieda adopted you."
The Professor nodded. "I had my legs broken didn't I, so I couldn't get away? Well, Frieda always prefers her victims helpless."
Frieda tossed her head and walked away as she always had done when any member of her family teased her.
Later in the day all the family and half a dozen visitors did go down to the old mine, which was still yielding a fair amount of gold, but not half so much as in the old days. Afterwards, lunch was served in the neighborhood of Rainbow creek and most of the day was spent outdoors.
Toward the close of the afternoon, however, everybody else wandered away leaving the four one time Ranch Girls together.
They were sitting in the afternoon sunshine on a patch of grass not far from the neighborhood of the creek.
Jack was lying down with her head resting in Olive's lap, Frieda was close to Jean and now and then putting her hand inside her cousin's for a moment. She and Jean had always been cronies in the old days, when the four of them had been divided into pairs over some small issue.
"I don't believe this is far from the place where Frank and I discovered the first gold in Rainbow creek," Jack remarked drowsily, a little worn out from the excitement of the day. "How filled the old ranch was with memories and thoughts of her husband!" Jack smiled to herself. Certainly she had been the impatient one and Frank the patient in those many months of her long illness.
Whatever anger Jack had felt in regard to her husband's autocratic attitude toward her, had entirely disappeared soon after saying farewell to him. But the puzzle was still present. Frank had been kind and sweet to her for the time before she left home. But never once had he frankly declared that in future he would be willing for Jack to decide important questions according to her own judgment, even as he must act by his own. And this was what Jack wanted, the sense of spiritual freedom.
"When is Frank coming over to join you, Jack?" Jean Merritt asked unexpectedly. "Ralph hopes to get home from his work at the canal in a few weeks and it would be a great pleasure if he and Frank could be here at the same time."
"Frank, oh, Frank isn't coming at all, Jean. He couldn't possibly leave his own country now, while they are at war. There is so much he feels he ought to do."
Jack hoped she was not blushing, but was painfully aware that Frieda's eyes were fixed somewhat critically upon her. Frieda was giving herself more airs than ever, now that she and her Professor were reconciled, and she had been able to persuade the British Government to allow her to bring him to the United States. The truth was the Professor had finished the scientific work he had undertaken, and in coming to his own country at the present time would be enabled to get hold of materials much needed in England.
Not actually realizing, but guessing at Jack's embarrassment, Olive remarked hastily.
"After all there is some advantage in being an old maid, one does not have to worry continually over being in the same place with one's husband. You will all have to come over to see my Indian School some day soon. Perhaps I am wedded to that."
"Nonsense, Olive," Frieda murmured, "but really I don't see why you have never married. You were obstinate enough about not accepting poor Don Harmon, but then you got most of your grandmother's money after all. Still you must have had other chances. You are as good looking as the rest of us and some people like brunettes best."
As Frieda's own yellow hair was at this moment unbound, so that it might get the air and sunshine, and as she looked at it with utter satisfaction as she spoke, her three companions laughed unrestrainedly.
"Oh, come now Frieda, you don't really believe anyone has such poor taste as that," Olive teased.
But at this instant seeing that Jack's nurse was coming toward them carrying Vive in her arms, Frieda got the best of the situation as she often did.
"Oh, well, perhaps the combination is prettiest after all. Vive is the only real beauty with her dark eyes and yellow hair."
Frieda held out her arms for the baby, who came to her with little ripples of happy laughter, and the two blonde heads, which were so nearly the same color, were held close together.
"I believe Vive really is the prettiest of all the children," Jean remarked critically, which was good of her, since she had a little girl of her own.
CHAPTER XVI
VIVE
SO the days and weeks passed on at the Rainbow Ranch, seeming to be uneventful and yet filled with quantities of pleasures and interests.
June came and the prairies were covered with wild flowers.
No one stayed indoors, except to sleep and eat, and oftentimes not for either of these things. Many nights Jack slept out on the Lodge verandah, sometimes with Olive or Jean, more often alone.
There were wonderful white nights such as only the west knows.
Jack used to love to lie and listen to the sounds she had long known and loved. A pair of owls in one of the old cottonwood trees held nightly conversations with each other, now and then screeching in such an irritated fashion that Jack laughed over their apparently human qualities.
Then far away from the house on the neighboring prairies she could hear the coyotes call to one another with warnings of danger.
These were excellent nights in which to think, for sometimes the moon made it almost too light for sleep. And Jack had a great deal to occupy her mind. Twice a week she wrote Frank and he wrote her with the same frequency, since at this time there were still two mail boats a week. But neither made any reference to their conversation on the evening when Jack had made her request to come home and given her reason.
Things in England were not going so well at this period as Frank had hoped, and he wrote chiefly of this. But he also said that he now received frequent news from Captain MacDonnell, who was growing better and now knew what fate had in store for him. He might be able to walk in the future, but only with crutches.
On several occasions Jack thought of deliberately asking her husband to come to some kind of an agreement with her for the future. Yet she hardly dared open a subject that might lead to differences between them, when they were so far apart, but she was very often lonely for him and sometimes repented having left England at all.
Jack, of course, was not always in this frame of mind. During the greater part of the time she was very happy.
A number of hours each day she spent on the horse Jim had given her, which she had named "Britain" in honor of her adopted country.
Now and then Jean and Olive and Frieda would refuse to ride, preferring some other amusement, but there was always Jim as a companion.
Jim Colter was now a successful and fairly wealthy ranchman owning a half interest in the Rainbow Ranch and having the entire ownership of the one adjoining it. But he continued to follow much the same routine as when he was only the manager for the Ranch girls.
That is, whenever it was possible, he rode over miles of the ranch land, watching the crops and his water supply, and carefully examining all his horses and cattle, when they seemed to need his attention.
Accompanying Jim on these excursions had been, not only one of Jack's chief amusements, but one of her serious occupations as a girl and it still greatly interested her. Besides, she and Jim saw each other under more favorable circumstances in this way than in any other, and had more real opportunities for conversation.
But always Jack arranged to get back to the Lodge in time to see her children before they went to bed. They had an excellent nurse and of course there was all the rest of the family to look after them, but Jack had followed this custom at home, except under unusual circumstances and would not have given it up for a great deal.
Therefore she was worried one afternoon when Jim insisted upon staying out later than usual. She would have returned alone, except that Jim had found a young colt which had injured itself and wished Jack's help and advice in the care of it.
Finally, when they did get started for home, Jack rode ahead like the wind, calling back to her companion not to try to follow her unless he liked, as she knew he had some other matters on the place to look after.
By making unusual speed she hoped to reach home a few minutes before six, when Vive was put into bed and Jimmie ate his supper before following her.
Olive was waiting on the porch when Jack came into sight and went out to meet her before she had dismounted.
"What is it, Olive?" Jack asked sharply, as soon as she saw her. "Which one of the children is it? What has happened?" For it is a curious fact that a mother often feels this premonition of danger.
"There is nothing to be seriously frightened about, Jack," Olive replied quietly, "only little Vive isn't very well. Frieda and I had her with us for a little while this afternoon and she seemed somewhat languid. Frieda thought she had a little fever, so Ruth saw her and we have sent for the doctor. He will be here in another few moments."
Jack made no comment except to go swiftly indoors, leaving Olive to find some one to care for her horse.
She knew, of course, that Olive was telling her as little as possible.
Jimmie had been taken away to the other house, so Vive now occupied alone the big room at the Lodge which had belonged to Jack and Frieda when they were little girls.
It was simply furnished with a few rugs and wicker chairs and bright pictures and three little white iron cots.
In the smallest Vive lay apparently asleep on her pillow.
But Jack saw at once she was not asleep. Her exquisite little face was flushed a bright scarlet, her lids heavy and closed, and the strangest fact was that one of her little hands twitched unceasingly.
Now and then she opened her golden brown eyes, but without seeing or knowing anyone.
When the doctor arrived he made no effort to disguise the seriousness of Vive's condition. If she were to live it would be a fight and one of the hardest of all kinds, since they must simply wait and watch, with very little possible to do.
For some unknown reason, perhaps because there had been too much excitement from the trip, too much notice taken of her by too many people, Vive had meningitis.
But Jack was never a coward and it is scarcely worth saying that a mother's courage, so long as she thinks it can help her child, is the purest courage of all.
As soon as she heard the verdict, Jack went quickly to her own room and put on a white cotton dress. Afterwards, until Vive was better or worse, she would never leave her side for a moment.
But it is one thing to be brave when a shock comes and one has health and strength to meet it. It is another to keep up that courage hour after hour, day after day, when the strength is gone and the body and mind unconsciously sick with weariness.
There was a trained nurse, of course, and any member of her family would have done anything that was humanly possible to relieve Jack's vigil. But she would not be persuaded or argued into going out of her baby's room, and slept there in the hours when she did sleep, half awake and half dreaming, on a small cot by Vive's.
And most of the time Frieda stayed with her.
In a way it seems strange that it should have been Frieda. Olive, one would have supposed to be more sympathetic, Jean and Ruth had children of their own.
But some change had been taking place in Frieda for a good many months and she adored little Vive. Whenever any of the others disputed Frieda's right, she always said quietly that after all, she was Jack's only sister, and that if anything happened she must be the one to be by her.
If Jack's husband had been with her, why then it would have been different. So Frieda even waved away her devoted Professor, who feared she might be ill, by telling him there would be time enough to think of her later on.
Although she and Jack sat side by side for many hours with their eyes on the baby, they but rarely spoke to each other.
Yet it was too pitiful to continue always to watch the movement of Vive's baby hands and her heavy breathing.
"If Vive dies do you think Frank will ever forgive me," Jack asked one night.
And true to herself Frieda tossed her yellow head.
"I don't see what Frank has to forgive? The point is will he ever forgive himself for having you go through all this alone?"
"But I ought not to have brought Vive away. Still I wouldn't mind anything if only Frank were with me."
A little later when the doctor arrived he said that the crisis would come within the hour and he would remain.
Olive and Jean waited in the Lodge living room, Jim had disappeared somewhere an hour before. Ruth Colter came into the nursery and stayed by Jack.
Half an hour passed. Then suddenly there was a strange, almost an unearthly silence in the room, and it was as if one could see the little white soul rise and float softly away like a bird.
The little figure in the cradle was still.
The doctor rose up.
"It is over," he said pitifully.
Frieda covered up her face, but Jack went over and looked down at Vive for a moment and then turned to the others.
"Please do not let anyone come with me," she asked. "I must go outdoors alone."
Then Jack went out past the living room, through the long avenue of tall trees, on farther and farther, not knowing where she was going.
The Rainbow Ranch, which she had loved better than any place in the world, had taken from her the human being, whom at this moment she believed she loved most.
Over Rainbow creek there hung a tiny yellow, crescent moon. It seemed to Jack that this, too, made her think of her baby, it was just as cold, just as perfect and as far away.
She stayed there a long time, then getting up she wandered on. She did not think whether her family would be uneasy, she did not care.
It seemed to her she never wished to go back again to the Lodge.
But finally a little clearer judgment came to her and she turned back.
It was almost dawn.
There, standing on the porch of the Rainbow Lodge, was a man's figure. Jack supposed it was Jim.
He started toward her and the next moment Jack was in his arms.
"Do you know, Frank?" Jack queried.
Frank drew her closer to him.
A little later she allowed Frank to lead her into the house, where she undressed and went to bed, with him sitting beside her.
She had made no inquiry about how he had arrived at such a moment. Jack had but one thought at this time, no others could enter her mind.
The facts were that Frank had left England ten days before bringing Captain MacDonnell with him. He had a mission from his Government so as to make the trip possible. But more than anything else he felt he must see his wife.
He had tried to write Jack, to tell her that he believed he had been unfair, that his obstinacy should never make an issue between them again. But it had all been so difficult to write and it must be so long before he could receive Jack's answer.
Moreover, Frank wanted to bring Captain MacDonnell to the ranch to stay during his convalescence. Soon after Jack's departure he had gone over to France, as an act of expiation both to his wife and friend. There he had found Captain MacDonnell recovering, but infinitely depressed with the thought that he could no longer serve his country, but must be only a burden.
On the arrival of his steamer in New York Lord Kent had wired Jim Colter, but Jim had thought it best not to speak to Jack until Frank was able to reach her.
He had therefore sent him a wire telling of Vive's illness, and Frank had hurried west, leaving Captain MacDonnell with friends in New York city.
CHAPTER XVII
FAREWELL
ABOUT a week later Captain MacDonnell arrived at the Rainbow Ranch accompanied by a man servant who waited upon him. He looked better than any of his friends had anticipated.
Since there was so much sorrow in the world at the present time, Jack and Frank had made up their minds that they would not let their own influence other people more than they could avoid. Moreover, they had found each other again at just the right moment and were more devoted, more united than ever before. Frank explained his own change of attitude to his wife, but all the events of the past seemed small in comparison with their loss.
It was Frieda who for a while seemed the more outwardly inconsolable.
Actually the Professor came one day in distress to Jack herself.
"My dear Jack, I don't know what I shall do with my little Frieda when you have gone home to England!" he exclaimed. For it had been decided that Jack and Jimmie were to return home when Frank did.
"But you will both be coming over soon," Jack answered, showing no sign that it might be strange under the circumstances to expect her to comfort Frieda.
The Professor did not see this. He really saw very little else in the world except his wife and his work.
"We may not be able to come for several months. In the meantime if she frets herself ill?"
Jack promised to talk to her sister.
One evening when Frieda complained of a headache and did not come down to dinner, Jack went up to her.
She found her sister lying on a couch and looking very young and sweet.
"You are not to worry too much on my account, Frieda dear," Jack began.
"I am not supposed to be unselfish," Frieda murmured.
But Jack paid no attention to her speech. "Perhaps you'll have a baby some day yourself, dear."
At this Frieda pulled her sister down and whispered something in her ear. Jack's face flushed.
"I should be happier than anything! Remember you and Henry are to come to us as soon as it can be arranged."
A few days later Lord and Lady Kent with their little boy left for the East. They were to stop a few days in Washington and then sail.
Not long afterwards Frieda and the Professor also went away from the ranch, as Professor Russell had a good many things to look after and Frieda would not be separated from him.
As Ralph Merritt had arrived for a visit, Jean's attention was occupied with him. So as a matter of fact Captain MacDonnell was rather left to Olive's care.
At first it did not seem a large duty simply to try and keep Captain MacDonnell amused and she had wanted to do something. But Olive had not reckoned with her task.
Captain MacDonnell was an Irishman and a Scotchman, which means he was able to be very gay and also very melancholy. And always in times past, when his melancholy mood had taken hold on him, he could mount his horse and ride the spectre away, or else engage in some other active outdoor occupation.
But here he was still so young a man, with all his future before him, and compelled to sit all day in a wheeled chair, or else hobble about on crutches.
It has not been the illness that has been hardest for the soldiers to bear, but oftentimes this coming back to accept with resignation a new kind of life.
Yet Captain MacDonnell tried to be patient, tried to let no one guess what he was suffering at thus having his career ended so soon, and being also unable to go on with the service to his country which he so longed to give.
But Olive, who had always more of a gift for sympathy than any one of the Ranch girls, appreciated what he was enduring more than she even revealed to him.
She had been reading him a volume of Kipling one day, and happening to raise her eyes, saw that he was not listening. She even stopped a few moments and found that he was unaware of it.
When Captain MacDonnell did discover his own absorption, he turned to Olive with a charming smile.