Jessica Trent: Her Life on a Ranch

CHAPTER IX
AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SHAFT

With an amusing little strut that was mostly affectation the girl passed up and down before the miner, and ended her performance by a hearty hug. It was impossible for her to withhold her caresses from anybody who loved her; and who did not, at Sobrante, save Antonio and Ferd, the dwarf? But she sobered quickly enough and at Wolfgang’s petition to “Tell me all about it already,” gave him a vivid picture of the changes at her home.

“But now Antonio has gone for a month, things will get straightened all out again. When he comes back I’ll have that deed to show him, and once he gets it out of his vain head that he is owner and not my mother, he’ll get sensible and good again, as he used to be. I wish I liked him better. That would make it easier for me to give up being ‘captain’ when the time comes. What makes one love some people and not others, Wolfgang? You ought to know, you’ve lived a long time.”

“The good God.”

“He wouldn’t make us dislike anybody. That can’t be the right reason.”

“Then I know not. Though I am getting old I’m not so wise, little one. But–ought I? Ought I not?”

“What?”

“Now you hark me. This Ephraim–guess you what that Antonio said of him?”

“How should I? Yes, that’s not the truth. But what he said was so dreadful I wouldn’t even tell my mother.”

“Ach! A child should tell the mother all things. Heed that. It is so we train our Otto.”

Jessica laughed.

“Otto is no child. He is a grown man. He is bigger than you. You should not shame him by keeping him a boy always.”

“Pst! girl! I would not he heard you, for my life.”

“He’ll not hear. Elsa is talking. But what did Antonio say about my old ‘Forty-niner’?”

“That much went with that old man besides his boots.”

“Of course. The feet that were in them, I suppose. Silly Wolfgang, to be so impressed by a sillier Antonio. The boys say his Spanish maxims have little sense in them. That proves it.”

“This deed of yours. He said: ‘Where Ephraim, the wicked, goes, goes their deed to the land.’ And more.”

“What more? The cruel, cruel man!”

“That it mattered not already. He would come back, the master. It was his, had always been. My friend–your father–well, it was not we who listened. Nor for once would Elsa make the cup of coffee she was asked. Not a morsel got he here, save that the little boy ran after him and gave him his own bit swiebach lest he faint by the way. And that was the last word of Antonio Bernal.”

Jessica’s laughter was past. On her face there was a trouble it grieved her old friend to see, and he hastened to comfort her.

“If one goes, some are left already. Come now to one whose eyes will be cured by a sight of your pretty face.”

“To Ephraim?”

“Even so.”

He took her hand to lead her, like the tender babe he still considered her, and they passed behind the cabin, toward the rickety shaft leading into the mine. At its very mouth stood old Stiffleg, and in her delight the girl gave him, too, one of her abounding hugs, which called a comment from the miner.

“Beasts or humans, all one to your lips. Well, no matter. It’s nature. Some are made that foolish way. As for me–old horses––”

“Wolfgang Winkler, shame! Now, sir, you’ll wait till you ask before I kiss you again!”

“Then I ask right quick. Now! Eh? No? Well, before you go then, to prove you bear no malice; and because I’ll show you a new vein I didn’t show Antonio. Ach! He’ll mine his own coal when once he comes–‘the master’–as he said! And so I think, though I know not, will all the others say. Sobrante will not be Sobrante with us all gone. So?”

“You’ll not be gone. It is my mother’s.”

“He is big and strong. He can plot evil, I believe.”

Wolfgang spoke as if he were disclosing a mystery and not a fact well known to all who really knew the Senor Bernal.

“I will be stronger. He shall not hurt my mother. I will fight the world for her and for my brother!”

The miner had been arranging the rope upon the windlass and now held the rude little car steady with his foot.

“Step in.”

“Is he below? Down in the mine?”

“Already.”

Jessica needed no second bidding, but leaped lightly into the car and Wolfgang followed her more cautiously. He knew that was a forbidden delight to her, for Mrs. Trent was nervously timid concerning such visits, but, like her, felt that the present circumstances justified the proceeding. Was not one below in the darkness, nursing a broken heart? And was not it the supreme business of each and all at Sobrante to comfort the sorrowing? How else had he and his been there, so happy and comfortable? So rich, also. Why, Elsa had––

“Lady Jess! Get Elsa to show you the buckskin bag! It has grown as fat as herself since you last saw it. The child will own the mine some day, believe me!”

Moved by the thought he swiftly lowered away, and as the car touched the bottom, the girl sprang out and ran calling in the narrow tunnel:

“Ephraim! My Ephraim! Where are you? I’ve come for you, I, Jessica! It’s a dreadful mistake. My mother–ah! here you are! Why down in this horrid hole, Ephraim Marsh? You’re all shivering, it’s so damp and dismal. For shame! To run away from your best friends and never give them a chance to tell you. Whoever wrote that note and sent you off from your own home, it never was my mother. Never! She said so, and it’s almost broken her heart.”

“It’s quite broken mine,” said the old frontiersman, sobbing in his relief at having been thus promptly sought and found by his beloved “lady.” For he did not know it was quite by accident that she had stumbled on this trace of him, nor did anybody enlighten him. Whether she would have set him right or not she had no chance, for, at that instant, they heard a hoarse cry at the mouth of the shaft and saw the car, their only means of ascent, moving swiftly out of reach.

“Heart of grace! Why that? Hark the woman! ’Tis the child! It is the little boy! Harm has befallen and I–the father–I below in the ground!”

In his alarm Wolfgang danced about the narrow space and wrung his hands, gazing frantically up the shaft, catching hold of his companions and conducting himself altogether like one bereft of common sense. Which behavior was sufficient to restore Ephraim Marsh to his own self-command, and none too soon; for the anxious father had already begun to try the ascent by climbing up the timbered sides when, suddenly, as if propelled by some extraordinary force the car shot downward again. Before it really touched bottom the shrieks had become deafening, and when Elsa jumped out and rushed upon her husband, he clapped his hands to his ears and retreated as far as the chamber permitted.

“She has gone mad, already! The woman is dement! Hark, the clamor!”

Then he remembered his first fear and clutched his wife’s arm, which promptly went around his neck and threatened him with suffocation.

“Well, well, I never had no wife, but if I’d had I wouldn’t cared to have her choke me to death a-loving me, nor split my ears a-telling me of it,” commented “Forty-niner,” dryly.

At which Elsa’s screams instantly ceased, and she turned her attention upon him.

“Where is it, thief? Give it up, this minute! How could you rob me of my hard-earned money? That was to buy the mine–and the vein runs deep–for my little boy, my child! ’Twas Antonio Bernal, the great man, told us already of the deed you stole! But I believed him not–I. Now, give me my money, my money–money!”

Overcome by her own violent emotion, rather than by any opposition of poor Ephraim’s, her hands slid from his shoulders, which she had been shaking as if she would jingle the cash from his pockets, and her plump person settled limply against him for support.

“Hello, here, woman! This is a drop too much! Take the creature, Winkler, and find out if you can what in misery ails her. She’s clean out of her wits.”

Instinctively, Jessica had placed herself at the old sharpshooter’s side. He should feel that she did not believe this terrible accusation, which recalled to her, with painful significance, the parting words of Antonio Bernal as he had ridden away from her window that morning. These had practically accused him of stealing the missing deed, and now came Elsa with this talk of “money, money.” She brushed her hand across her eyes as if to waken herself from some frightful dream and then smiled up into Ephraim’s eyes, now bent inquiringly upon her. Dim as the light was, there was yet sufficient descending through the shallow shaft to reveal each troubled face to the other, and the old man’s own frightened at the confiding trust of his beloved pupil’s.

“Never mind her. Let her scream and loll around, if she wants to. What matters it? Little lady, am I or am I not a–a–that pizen thing she called me?”

“Never!”

“Then come on. Let’s get out of this.”

But he was not to be permitted to escape so easily. Elsa had now recovered her full strength and, oddly enough, her composure. She waved her husband toward the waiting car and he obeyed her gesture without protest, gently lifting Jessica into it, for she would not otherwise have been removed from Ephraim’s side.

“Go with him, lady. Elsa won’t want to live down here and we’ll follow presently. Never had a woman seem so fond of my company, not in all my eighty years. H-m-m!”

Commonly, the most genial of men, the sharpshooter’s spirits had fully regained their normal poise. Since he had not been dismissed by Mrs. Trent, and since his little Jessica believed in him, everything was all right. Elsa had been hoarding so long for her overgrown “child” that she had lost her wits. He wasn’t surprised. She was a woman.

So, with a smile, he was able to watch the car disappear upward, and he even began to whistle, lest Elsa should improve this opportunity and resume her racket.

“No disrespect to you, ma’am, remembering the good victuals you’ve often given me, but kind of to keep my courage up, like the boy going through the woods.”

Elsa vouchsafed no reply, beyond grasping his sleeve firmly, as if to assure herself that he should not vanish through the solid wall behind them; and he, at least, was relieved when the little car came rolling downward again, empty.

Elsa, who understood its management as well as her husband, grasped its side and motioned Ephraim forward.

“Ladies first,” he objected, gallantly.

“Get in, wretch, already.”

“Oh! I’m not loath to get in, now. Even your sweet presence doesn’t make this hole a paradise. And I came down here a heavy-hearted man, yet I’ve going up light as a feather. Glad I’ve got you along to ballast, else I’d likely shoot clean up to the sky.”

Poor Elsa thought his hilarity ill-timed. She glared at him first, then began to weep, and her tears sobered him as no frowns could do.

“Look, here, old girl, cheer up! Likely it’s only a passing fit of madness has got you in tow. Women are kittle cattle, I’ve been told. Except Lady Jess and the madam. But they’re quality. It’s in their blood to be noble just as ’tis in–well, let that go. If you’ve lost any of your money, as you ’pear to think, you’ll find it again. Why, you’re bound to. Who is there to steal it save your own selves? Likely you’ve got up some dark night in your sleep and hid it away so careful you’ve forgot the place. Good! The top and fresh air again, thank Heaven!”

Mr. Hale had left the cabin immediately after Elsa, and though inclined to stoop and gather up her scattered coins had refrained from doing so, restrained by that prudence which becomes second nature to lawyers.

“She thinks somebody has robbed her and would probably accuse me of pocketing some of these. Too much money for anybody to keep in a house,” he reflected, forgetting that banks were not accessible to everybody. “But it’s an ill wind, etc. Now I shall be apt to escape that promised visit to an amateur coal mine, and not endanger my life in their rickety car.”

Elsa’s conduct upon reaching home was as curious and contradictory as ever. Instead of collecting her scattered treasure, she merely said, with a shrug of her fat shoulders:

“What good? let it lie. When the much is gone who cares for the little?”

Then she dropped into a chair and began again to cry, disconsolately.

Jessica could not endure the scene.

“Oh! I hate this! Elsa, stop. Be happy. Nobody has robbed you. If there has ’tis nobody here. I’m going home. I was having such a good time and I’ve found dear Ephraim. I’ll ask leave to come again to-morrow, maybe, and you’ll have it by then. Just as I shall the title. ’Tis only that you’ve been careless, as–as somebody else was. Good-by. We’re going. Say good-by, won’t you?”

Elsa’s good-by was to seize Ephraim’s coat and hold it with all her force, but he was now too happy to object to this.

“Certain, ma’am. If you’ve took a notion to it, I’ll leave it with you. Coats don’t matter, when hearts are light. Yes, look in the pockets. Like enough ’twill ease your mind a bit. I’d give her a dose of sagebrush tea, Wolfgang. Catnip ’d be better, but ain’t so handy. Good-by, all. I’ll be ’round again, myself, soon, if the lady can spare me,” and with this remark, “Forty-niner” quietly slipped out of the loose garment and made his escape.

There was no more talk of inspecting the ranch. The little party of three rode thoughtfully homeward. Even Ephraim’s gayety had ebbed and the strange accusation Elsa had made began at last to claim his serious attention. Thieving was a new matter at Sobrante, though he, along with all the other “boys,” had thought for many months that the manager was dealing unfairly by his mistress and employer. This affair would have to be sifted to the bottom, and he didn’t like it. He was glad to be going back to his familiar quarters, glad of many things, yet his light-heartedness was quite gone.

Mr. Hale was equally silent and self-absorbed. Every hour he spent among these people, like innocent children all they seemed to him, but interested him the more in them. Their unhappiness disturbed him and yet his own mission was to make them more unhappy still.

Jessica was angry, indignant, and amused by turns; but these troubles were changing her swiftly from a careless little girl to a sadly perplexed captain, and she rode along in silence, for most of the way, forgetting entirely that she had meant to take quite another route, or that her present errand was to exhibit the wonders of her beloved Sobrante.

They cantered peacefully downward across the valley, old Stiffleg himself leading the way, till they struck upon the main road and saw in the distance a vehicle crawling forward upon it.

“Oh! oh!” cried Jessica, who had been first to observe this object.

“Heigho! What’s that–a circus?” asked Mr. Hale, gazing curiously at the strange wagon.

Ephraim shaded his eyes with his hand and peered into the distance. Then he dropped it, and drooping ridiculously, groaned:

“Oh! my fathers!”

“Looks like a circus. All the colors of the rainbow,” persisted Mr. Hale, glad of any diversion to his perturbed thoughts.

“’Tis a circus, temperance union, a salvation army, a woman’s rights convention, what Samson calls a Mother Carey’s chicken, an Amazon, a wild Indian, a–a–shucks! There isn’t anything on earth that yonder doesn’t try a hand at. Land of Goshen! I’d almost rather turn and go back to be jawed by the Dutchwoman. And I’ve come home–just for this!”

But Jessica was laughing as she had not laughed all day, and if the person driving along in front was objectionable to Ephraim it was evidently not the fact in her case.

“Oh! how glad I am!” she cried, and touched Buster to his swiftest gallop, while the sharpshooter grimaced and groaned:

“To have come back to this!”

CHAPTER X
AUNT SALLY

“Well, I declare! Eat your playmates, do you?”

“Yes, indeed, when you make them!”

“Who’s that loping along behind?”

“Ephraim, of course. Oh! yes. A Mr. Hale, from New York.”

“What’s he at here?”

“Just staying. Lost his way and making a visit.”

“H-m-m! Don’t look wholesome. Needs picra.”

“I doubt it. He has a great row of bottles in his room and takes medicine every time he eats, or doesn’t. That is, since he’s been at Sobrante, which isn’t long.”

When the wagon had halted on the road before them Ephraim had turned to his companion, with a whimsical smile, suggested:

“Better ride along as if we was glad to see her. It’s like a dose of that bitter stuff she makes everybody take, whether or no–get it over with. And she isn’t so bad as–H-m-m.”

Mr. Hale was not sorry to do this, for his curiosity was roused. The wagon box was long and narrow, and contained as many articles as would have sufficed a family “crossing the plains” in the olden times. A kerosene cooking stove, a cat in a parrot cage, a hencoop, with mother and brood inside it, a trunk, a blanket and pillow, a pail for watering the animals, and a box of tin dishes. The cover, like a small “prairie schooner,” was patriotic in extreme, shining with the national colors, newly applied by Aunt Sally herself, and with no stingy hand. The arrangement was also her own, and as she considered, an improvement upon the flag; for she made the whole top a field of stars, and the sides of the stripes.

“Instead of a little weeny corner full of stars, that you can count on your fingers, I’ve made a skyful right overhead. I always thought if I’d had the designin’ of Old Glory, I’d have made it regular, like a patchwork quilt–and nobody ever pieces a ‘block’ that way. Things must compare even, and so they would be if women had had a hand in the business.”

This decorative turnout was drawn by a tandem team, consisting of a milch cow and a burro, with the cow in front. Which, after due introduction to the stranger, she explained, regulated the behavior of both animals.

“With Balaam in the middle, and him inclinin’ to balk, and Rosetty in front, it works double-action. Them that use their wits is twice served. If he stops, the wagon runs onto him, and if she’s in a movin’ mood, that drags him. If she gets lazy, he butts her and thus, why–I’ve tried it both ways, changing their places more’n once. This is the best. How you like Californy?”

“Very much.”

“Come for your health?”

“Partly, for that.”

“H-m-m. Folks with you?”

“No. I’m alone.”

“Maybe you’ve got no folks. Some hasn’t. Ephraim, yonder, is one. He’d be in a fix if ’twasn’t for Jessie and me. I come about once in so often and straighten out all the crooks. Took them pills, Ephy?”

Mr. Hale tried to repress a smile and failed, but “Forty-niner” burst into a loud laugh, and replied:

“No, Aunt Sally, and what’s more I’m not going to. Why should I? Who never have an ache or pain–that medicine will cure,” he added, looking tenderly upon Lady Jess and remembering his grief of the past night.

“Well, you ought to have. ’Tisn’t human nature to live to eighty and not have. I’m twenty years younger’n you are and I ache from head to foot, some days.”

“Asking questions sort of wears you out, I reckon.”

“Now, Ephy, don’t get playful. Not at your age. It’s not a good sign. Besides, my hen chicken’s been crowing more’n once this trip. That’s a sign of death–somewhere.”

“Giddap, Stiffleg!”

Ephraim urged his horse forward, meaning to forewarn the “boys” of who and what was coming. Jessica comprehended and quickly followed, but her object was to bespeak a different kind of welcome from that he intended. Neither knew, then, just how heartily glad they would be before many hours were over of the helpful, yet disturbing, presence of this same masterful woman.

The Easterner was left to jog alongside the curious team and its more curious mistress, who, even, while she held the rope reins in one hand, was threading her needle and sewing that patchwork which was as characteristic of her as the ceaseless knitting was of Elsa.

In fact, when one came to look at her closely, there were seen assorted bits of cloth, fragments of some “block,” pinned here and there about her person; and as he watched her nimble fingers fly from one seam to another the gentleman’s amazement found expression.

“How can you manage to drive and sew at the same time? And is it necessary?”

“I guess you’re a Yankee yourself, aren’t you? Well, if I hadn’t been able to manage how do you s’pose I’d ever have got my quilt done in time for the State fair? Fifty-five thousand five hundred and fifty pieces there’s in it, and I’ve willed it to Jessica Trent when I’m done exhibitin’ it. None of ’em bigger ’n a finger nail, and all done over paper. That’s a piece of work, I ’low. What’s your complaint?”

“I–I don’t know as I have any. They’ve made me very comfortable and welcome.”

“Dare say. They couldn’t do otherwise. Giddap there, Balaam. Rosetty smells alfalfa, and you’ll have to step out to keep up with a cow ’at does that. I mean what’s your disease?”

“Oh! well–it’s of no consequence.”

“Man alive, don’t neglect yourself. You’re yallar. You’ve got the janders. Sure’s I’m a living woman that’s what it is.”

“I think not. I hope not,” said the poor man, but rather feebly.

“Sure. Or shingles. I’ve never seen a real likely case of shingles, and if it should be that, I’d just admire to nurse you. What victuals you been eating?”

The dyspeptic winced. This sounded truly professional, for all his numerous physicians had prefaced their treatment by a similar question.

“I’ve been able to eat almost anything and everything since I came into this country of open-air living. The last thing was some of Elsa Winkler’s swiebach and honey-sweetened coffee.”

“You don’t say! Oh! oh! Poison, sir, rank poison. You may as well count yourself dead and laid out––”

The unfortunate stranger shivered and turned pale. For some half hour past, he had been suffering various qualms which he had attributed to Elsa’s hospitality, but to tell a nervous invalid that he has been poisoned is to increase his misery a hundredfold. If Aunt Sally had desired a patient she was now in a fair way to secure one; but her words were without any significance to herself beyond the fact that she favored neither Elsa nor her cookery. Elsa’s knitting work had crowded her own patchwork pretty closely at that famous fair, and the handsome money prize, which she felt belonged of rights to herself, had been halved between the pair. Because, though their skill lay along different lines, they had both signed their exhibits: “From Sobrante,” and, manifestly, the judges could not give two first premiums to one estate.

This memory served to change her thoughts from disease to a detailed history of the wonderful quilt, during which they arrived at Mrs. Trent’s cottage and dinner.

But this could not yet be served. Aunt Sally must needs first see her son, and after the fondest of greetings, cautiously consign to him the care of her personal outfit. She even ran after him–as he walked away, grinning and leading the now obstreperous cow–with a vial in her hand, begging:

“Now son, please me, before you eat that ‘mess’ of men’s cooking by taking one spoonful of this dandelion relish. Made it myself, purposely for you, and I’ll warrant no alcohol in it, either.”

Experience had proved that protestation was worse than useless; so, with another grin, but a really affectionate “Thank you,” John accepted the vial and once more started stableward.

“Now, Aunt Sally, come! You must be hungry yourself, after your long ride,” urged Mrs. Trent, hospitably, and with sincere pleasure lighting her gentle face. Living so far from other women made the presence of even this uncouth one a comfort, and experience had proved that Mrs. Benton was, in time of need, that “rough diamond” which she claimed herself to be.

“All right, honey; in a minute. I’ll just step out to the kitchen and pass the time of day with Wun Lung. Besides––”

Jessica caught Aunt Sally around her waist–as far as she could reach–and tried to prevent her leaving the room, but was lightly set aside, with the remark:

“Face is next door to the mouth. Guess I want to see what sort of food that heathen’s got ready for us, ’fore I touch it!”

“Oh, Aunt Sally! In my house–can’t you trust me?” asked the hostess, with mild protest. Though she knew before she spoke that her will as opposed to Mrs. Benton’s, at least in minor matters, was powerless. So she quietly brought a book and offered it to Mr. Hale, with the suggestion that he make himself content for the present.

“The dinner will be delayed and there will be a rumpus in the kitchen. But the dinner will be all the better for waiting and the rumpus will end in Wun Lung taking another rest while Aunt Sally does his work. Fortunately, she is a prime cook, and we shall fare sumptuously every day. I’d be glad to keep her here, always, if I could.”

“Old Ephraim Marsh did not appear to share your sentiments,” and he described “Forty-niner’s” behavior and remarks at first sighting Mrs. Benton’s wagon.

“Then you found him. He’s come back with you? Oh! I am so thankful. Sobrante wouldn’t seem itself without that straightforward, honest old man.”

“You are certain he is that?” asked, rather than asserted, the other.

“As certain as that there is honesty anywhere. What can you mean? Why do you seem so doubtful?”

“I don’t wish to be a talebearer, but another of your adoring proteges is in dire trouble. Elsa has been robbed and accuses this unfortunate person of being the culprit.”

“Such a thing would be impossible.”

“So it seemed to me. Yet that old Wolfgang finally got it through his head–he appeared duller of wit than his wife–that to lose sight of Ephraim was to lose the money forever. Your little daughter promised to produce him when needed, and after considerable opposition they allowed him to come away. I fancy they began to suspect me even. I fear, madam, I have visited Sobrante at an unfortunate time.”

Mrs. Trent was paying but slight attention to his words. Her mind was already disturbed by many inexplicable things and would revert to Antonio’s insinuations which, without Jessica’s knowledge, she had also overheard. After a moment, recalled by high voices in the kitchen, she rallied, and apologizing for so doing, hastily left the dining-porch.

There were several gleaming pots and pans upon the oil cooking-stove and behind these stood Wun Lung, tenaciously grasping a meat dish and glaring unutterable things out of his beady eyes upon the excited woman who faced him, demanding:

“Give me that platter, monkey-face! Suppose I’ll put your dirty victuals into my clean mouth or anybody else’s? I’ve tasted your stuff before. A burnt bairn dreads the fire. Hand it over. I’ll see if it’s fit. There! That rice is boiling over.”

The dish of savory lamb stew had been most daintily and carefully prepared after his mistress’ own minute directions, but Wun Lung now slammed it upon the table with much violence and seized the pipkin of rice from the stove. With undue emphasis he placed this beside the stew and, advancing toward Mrs. Trent, made several profound salaams.

“Lat m’loman come–me glo. Good-by.”

And for many a day thereafter Wun Lung served no more in that, his own beloved kitchen.

Not a whit disturbed was Aunt Sally. Revolution had become as the breath in her nostrils. Wherever she went old orders were reversed and all things became new. At a little town, with an unpronounceable Spanish name, which it suited her to call “Boston,” she had her home-room in the house of a long-suffering woman cousin, whose ill-health afforded her infinite employment, therefore enjoyment. The invalid endured these ministrations because Aunt Sally also supported her, as well as ruled her; but she appreciated the rest which followed whenever the itching of Mrs. Benton’s feet called their owner elsewhere. Between “Boston” and Sobrante the patriotic wagon vibrated, like a long-distance pendulum, and departing from either point carried everything belonging to its proprietor within it. “Boston” having become wearisome it was now Sobrante’s turn.

“I haven’t been so happy since I first trod shoe leather. Now, honey, you’ll have good, clean fixings, with no opium nor rat tails in ’em,” she gleefully announced, returning to the table.

“Aunt Sally, hush! What an opinion you’ll give our guest of my housekeeping!” laughed Mrs. Trent.

“Pooh, child! Anybody that looks at you’ll know you hate dirt. Now, eat, all. Only–you, Mr. Hale, I must insist you take a dose of this saffron tea. I steeped it while I was having that set-to with the Chinaman, for I thank my stars I can always do two things at once. And if I know the signs–Gabriella Trent, if that man hasn’t got the janders or shingles, or malary fever, don’t you tell me a thing!”

“I certainly shall not tell you any such thing as that, dear soul. The trouble is, Mr. Hale, Aunt Sally is never so happy as when she has a sick person to nurse. If nobody is ill she does her utmost to make somebody so, with her uncalled for doses and stews. But–once be ill! Ah! dear Aunt Sally, I know how tender is your touch and how faithful your watch. God bless you!”

Not often was the gentle mistress moved to such emotion, and Mrs. Benton now put on her spectacles and regarded her hostess over them with a critical air.

“Land, honey! You must be coming down with something yourself! I never heard that janders was catching, but, heart of grace, it might be! Yes, in-deedy, it might be!”

The delight of her tone was equaled only by the sparkle of her eye. To have come to Sobrante, guided merely by the itching of a foot and to find two patients ready to hand, what mortal could ask more?

Possibly, with the intention of helping on their timely disorders, she heaped her neighbors’ plates with the savory dinner, which was wholly due to Wun Lung’s skill, and not, as she fancied, to her brief supervision.

When the meal was over, Aunt Sally retreated to the kitchen, after forcing Mrs. Trent to lie down and rest, “whether or no;” and to aid the lady’s slumbers, there presently arose from without the lusty cries of two small lads who had returned from some prank, late as usual, and as usual, desperately hungry.

“I will have my dinner, so there, you old Aunt Sally! I will go tell my mother–I won’t be spanked–I won’t I–I–I––”

“Wonbepanked!” screamed another childish treble.

“Yes, you will, the brace of you. Spare the rod and spoil the child. That’s what Gabriella does, all the time, soft-hearted dear that she is. A good, sound spanking once in six months is all that keeps you in a state of salvation. If it wasn’t for me I don’t know what in reason you little tackers would grow up to be. One thing I do know, though, and so do you, and that is–that while your old Aunt Sally is at Sobrante ranch you’ll never be late to your victuals again.”

In this events proved that the speaker was right, as, indeed, she had often been before on similar occasions.

Knowing that this little family jar would result in no serious harm to her idolized son, Mrs. Trent lay still and thought, but did not sleep. How could she? What a subtle thing is suggestion!

Poor, overburdened Gabriella Trent had known and trusted old Epbraim Marsh for many years; yet the words of Antonio, and now of this stranger within her gates, lingered in her memory and would not then leave.

Up in his pleasant guest chamber Mr. Hale felt within himself the increasing vigor of returning health, tempered for the moment, it may be, by a little indiscretion of diet; yet the assertion of that noisy old woman below stairs, that he was, despite all, on the verge of some serious illness, so worked upon his still weakened nerves that he could neither sleep nor forget them.

The result in both cases was unfortunate.

That evening Mrs. Trent forbade her daughter the rifle practice for which, promply on his return, Ephraim had made special preparation. Her refusal hurt the old fellow, already sensitive from a previous injury, and he reflected, bitterly, as he once more sought his monkish chamber:

“After all, whoever dismissed me was right. I’m too old for use. I’d better never have come back.”

As for Mr. Hale, brooding and an unwise exposure to the night air on the previous evening, did bring on a slight fever. Worriment increased this and, like many men, he was impatient under suffering; so that when his bell rang sharply, demanding attention, he was in a fair way to require all that Aunt Sally or any other had to give.

Meanwhile, down at the adobe quarters, other suspicions were rife.

“What is that man doing here, any way? He don’t tell his business, and he’s asked a power of questions. He’s wormed out of one and another of us all there is to learn about this ranch, and he hasn’t let on a single thing about himself, except that he’s a lawyer from New York. New York’s a big village and all lawyers can lie. I’m bound to sound that chap before I’m many hours older,” said Joe Dean, bringing his hands down heavily upon the table.

“I know a trick worth two of that. Set mother on him!” cried John Benton, gayly. “She’ll ask more questions to the square inch than any other human being I ever met, and she’ll have all his business, family history, and present undertakings out of him before he can say Jack Robinson. Lucky for us she got that itching foot just when she did.”

So it was agreed; and thus, primed to the fullest investigation, Aunt Sally and her curiosity established themselves within their victim’s sickroom. When they emerged from it, at daybreak, the one had been fully satisfied–with horror; and the ruddy face of the other had grown white and heartbroken as no single night of watching should have left it.

CHAPTER XI
THE GUEST DEPARTS

Mrs. Benton stepped outside the house and paced the beaten path with a tread powerful enough to crush all her enemies, had they been in her way. Swiftly, heavily, back and forth, with clinched hands and grim lips, the woman was rather working her indignation to a higher point than allaying it, and as the carpenter limped from his quarters he saw this, and thought:

“She meant it. No time for fooling when she’s stirred up that way. What in the name of reason can ail her?”

After a plunge of his head in the water of the general washing-trough, through which a fresh stream was continually piped, and a drying on the roller towel suspended near it, his wits were clearer. Finishing his toilet by means of his pocket-comb, he considered himself ready for her story and for anything that it might entail.

“Well, mother?”

Aunt Sally paused and glared at him in such a vicious manner that he felt as if he were again that little boy of hers who needed the usual corporal punishment.

“Yes, but mother–what have I done?”

“Done? Nothing! Not a man jack of you! Let that viper warm himself at her very fireside, least to say, south porch, and not show him up for what he was. Land! The men! I never saw one yet was worth shucks, savin’ hers and mine. If you was half the fellow your father was, John Benton, or that noble Cass’us was–oh! if ever I wanted to be a man in my life I want to be this minute!”

The carpenter darted into his chamber and reappeared with a vial and spoon.

“To please me, mother, ’fore you say any more, just take a spoonful of this dandelion relish. Made it myself, you know, and warrant no alcohol in it!”

The jester was rewarded by a boxed ear, but he had effectually arrested his parent’s wandering thoughts, and she burst forth with her news:

“That viper-lawyer-man has come to this Sobrante to accuse Cass’us Trent of stealing! lyin! cheating! Cass’us, your best friend and mine. Says there’s a power of money missing, that was all consigned to him, to purchase that Paraiso d’Oro for a community and never reported on!”

“What? W-h-a-t!”

John had laid his hand upon her shoulder like a vise, and she began to whimper.

“Needn’t pinch me, child. ’Twasn’t I said it. You told me to find out what he wanted here and I have. He pretends he lost his way, got off the road he was showed to take and met Lady Jess in the canyon. Says his own horse is up to Pedro’s sheep pasture. Says––”

“And you let him? Had him right there in your power and didn’t knock his old teeth down his lying throat?”

As John’s wrath increased his mother’s ebbed. She had passed her indignation on to another, as it were, and felt the relief of this confidence.

“No, I didn’t. I left that for you to do. They was false ones any way and wouldn’t have hurt none. Hold on! Where you going, son?”

For the carpenter had started forward, as if intent upon instant and terrible vengeance. Neither of them noticed that Jessica had followed Aunt Sally hither till a girl’s voice implored:

“Don’t! That would let my mother know and it would kill her!”

“Captain! You here? You understand?”

“Yes–yes. They waked me, talking, and I crept to the upper hall to stop them, so they should not disturb my poor, tired dear. Oh! I heard! I heard–every–single–dreadful word!”

“Well, I’m going to fix him for it.”

“John, wait–wait. I must think. My precious mother––”

Jessica rarely wept. Now she flung herself into Aunt Sally’s arms and sobbed in a way that set the carpenter raging afresh. One after another the “boys” came out from the closed or open doors along the row. Some because it was their usual hour for rising, others to learn the cause of these early voices. But one glimpse of Lady Jess in trouble grouped every ranchman about her and set each to hurling a torrent of questions upon that good woman, who held her, without pause for any answer.

But John held up his hand and told the story. It belonged to them all, as Jessica did, and the honor of Sobrante.

They heard it with little comment, save groans and occasional mutterings, punctuated by fresh inquiries of Mrs. Benton. Considerable mystery had been thrown about her cross-examination of her temporary patient, and after all it had proved the simplest matter in the world. Concerning his own personal affairs he was provokingly silent, but he was as ready to talk about his business in that region as she was to have him when, after a roundabout preparation, she brought him to it.

“I am in honor pledged to do my best for my employers in the East, and unwilling to remain here under false colors, so to speak, any longer. Who is the most responsible person here, excepting Mrs. Trent?” had been his words.

“I am,” promptly replied Aunt Sally.

“Then you shall hear my story,” and he told it.

The effect of it was to loose her tongue to its utmost. One may guess the listener heard himself portrayed in colors he failed to recognize and that he realized he had made a mistake in the selection of a confidante. However, his purpose had been to do away with all doubt concerning himself, and to do this with as little distress to his hostess as possible. For that reason he had believed a woman would be his best aid, but it proved that almost any ranchman on the place would have been safer than she.

“Well, I ought to have known that a female who talks so much must say something amiss, and I can’t blame her for her indignation. In her stead I might have behaved worse; and the thing now is to get over this little weakness and go away about the miserable business, at once,” he reflected. Then he watched her hurry out of his room and surmised whither she would turn her steps. Therefore, he was not surprised when, somewhat later, he also left the cottage to find himself confronted by great Samson, quietly, but significantly, awaiting the stranger’s appearance. For the great fellow had naturally been appointed by his mates to “settle that critter’s hash and settle it sudden.”

“Good-morning, Samson.”

Silence.

“It seems so wonderful to me to wake and find this changeless sunshine, day after day, as if no such things as storms could ever exist,” said the lawyer, pleasantly.

Samson’s grimness relaxed to a slight degree. “Some kind of storms blow in fair weather. Likely you’ll meet up with one sooner’n you expect. Step this way, will you?”

The sailor’s expression was so formidable that, for a moment, all the wild tales the lawyer had ever read of western desperadoes returned to test his already weakened nerves. But he was no coward, and knew that though in a most uncomfortable position, it was by no means a guilty one.

“Certainly.”

Samson led the way, if walking closely beside the guest, as a constable walks beside his prisoner, may be termed leading. Nor once did he turn his angry gaze from the gentleman’s face, and the riding-crop in his hand swung to and fro, as if longing to test itself against some enemy’s body. The walk ended in the ranchmen’s messroom, where Wun Lung, released from the cottage kitchen, had already been impressed into service, and was deftly preparing breakfast. Aunt Sally had disappeared, but Jessica was there, perched on a corner of the dresser, by which stood “Forty-niner,” with his arm about her. All the other workmen whom Mr. Hale had seen were also present and an air of silent fury pervaded the whole assemblage.

The stranger’s glance passed swiftly from one face to another and saw no kindness on any. Even the little captain’s eyes were bent downward and her lovely face wore a sorrow it made his own heart ache to see.

Joe Dean lounged forward.

“Stranger, have you broke your fast?”

“No.”

Another silence, during which the blacksmith poured a cup of inky coffee from the great pot, hacked off a piece of bread from a dusky loaf, and shoved them toward their unwelcome guest across the table by which he had sat down.

“Eat, and be quick about it.”

The color rose in the Easterner’s cheek, but he made no motion to obey, and after a brief waiting, seeing this, Joe threw the coffee out of the window and tossed the bread to the dogs.

“There’s a horse outside. It’s for you. The poorest we’ve got, because once you’ve bestrode him no decent man’ll ever mount him again. He’ll answer, though, to carry you beyond this valley, and Samson’ll go with you to see you leave it for good. Then he’ll turn the beast loose and may the Lord have mercy on your dirty soul. Get!”

Mr. Hale did not stir. His own eye gathered fire and the pink in his face grew scarlet, but his voice was calm as he inquired:

“Am I still at Sobrante, the home of gentlefolks? By whose orders, please, this present dramatic scene?”

“Yes; this is Sobrante. The home of gentlefolks–you spoke the truth for once. The home of Cassius Trent, the truest man, the noblest heart, the whitest gentleman the good Lord ever made. The home of a man! and not a free hotel for whelps! Ugh! If I had promised the captain–Lady Jess, let me off that word! I must at him, I must–I will!”

Joe’s attitude was full of menace, but Mr. Hale neither moved nor took his own cool gaze from his enemy’s face. Though Jessica had taken swift alarm and leaped down to place herself beside the smith and clasp his hand with her own.

“No, no. You promised, and I’m your captain. Soldiers obey their captains and you chose me yourself. You are not to hurt him nor abuse him, though, I, too”–here she wheeled about and faced her guest, crying: “hate you, hate you! Oh! that’s wicked. That’s rude. But, sir, how dared you say my father–the best man ever lived–kept–took–it isn’t true, it isn’t!”

The lawyer rose, somewhat unsteadily. The sight of the daughter’s grief disturbed his calmness more than the affronts offered him by her bearded henchmen. It was to her that he addressed the question:

“Am I permitted to say a word in my own behalf, Captain Jessica?”

A growl ran around the room, but she held up her small hand, protestingly.

“Yes. That’s fair. My father always taught me to be fair. I’m sorry I was–I wasn’t polite––”

“No, you aren’t,” shouted Samson. “Don’t you dare be sorry for anything but the kindness you’ve showed that skunk!”

“Samson, it was you made me captain!”

“All right. I give in. Be as fair as you like, I can’t help it.”

“Tell us all there is to tell. As you told Aunt Sally.”

“Thank you, captain. I’ll be brief. I came to California, representing a company, a syndicate, which had advanced large sums of money to purchase, improve, and stock a vast tract of land called Paraiso d’Oro. Though for a time due receipts and reports had been returned to the syndicate for several months these had entirely ceased. Unfortunately, the company had implicit faith in their consignee, and Paraiso d’Oro was but one of their many enterprises. I had been their legal adviser in other matters, and when my health failed from overwork, they suggested that I should come here and investigate their affairs, while I could recuperate at the same time.

“I set out on horseback from Los Angeles, my temporary headquarters, without a guide and with many erroneous notions concerning both the State and its people. You see, though I’d lived at the center of our national civilization––”

“You’re forgettin’ Californy!” cried somebody.

“I’d led the narrow life of a man absorbed in one sort of business. I traveled out of my way, and lost it. Then I met your captain in the canyon and she courteously offered me the hospitality of Sobrante. Until I reached this spot I had no idea that it was part and parcel, so to speak, of that Paraiso I’d come to reclaim. Gradually this fact became clear to me and from that moment I have been anxious to get away from a hospitality I have no moral right to enjoy.”

“Spoke the truth for once, liar!” grumbled Cromarty.

“You cannot feel it more than I, sir, nor more profoundly regret that it is my misfortune to have undertaken a business which has now become obnoxious to me. But a lawyer must look at facts. One Cassius Trent––”

“Take care!”

“Be quiet, Marty! Go on, Mr. Hale,” ordered the little captain.

“Cassius Trent was the man whose hitherto probity and enthusiasm had enlisted the interest of his New York friends. He represented that his projected community would not only be an excellent investment for their money, but a benefaction to humanity. They believed him and–well, their money is gone, their community has not even a beginning, and the man is dead. He seems to have been a person––”

“A white gentleman, sir!”

“Who could obtain a strong hold upon the affections and confidence of all who knew him. I admire the qualities which gained your devotion and I admire your loyalty to him. I am charmed with the home he created in this wilderness–for himself–and I have the profoundest respect for his afflicted family. I wish I had not undertaken this trust. But I have so undertaken, I am sworn to my clients’ interests, and I must further them to my utmost ability. If the missing money can be recovered I shall recover it, painful as my duty may be. And–that is all. Good-by, little captain. It is my sincere wish that I may find some explanation of this mystery, other than circumstantial evidence seems to point. If I so find I shall return and tell you. If not–good-by. Make my respectful regards to your mother, and thank you for my entertainment.”

He turned and walked to the doorway, nobody interfering; but there he paused and asked:

“That horse you mentioned? Can I purchase him of you? If so I need not trouble Samson for his escort, but will bid you, gentlemen, good-morning.”

A significant look ran around the circle of intent and lowering faces. The lawyer’s succinct explanation of affairs had impressed them, but it had not altered one fact which most mattered to those hardy countrymen.

A dead man, their idolized master and friend, had been accused of black dishonesty, and they had passed their own promise to their girlish captain not to injure the accuser.

But they had not promised he should go scot-free. To some men shame was worse than a bullet wound. It would have been so to them, and they did the stranger thus much honor that they ascribed him equal manliness.

As he stepped across the threshold Mr. Hale found both Samson and John Benton close beside him, at right hand and left; and when he was about to mount the superannuated beast, which a grinning stable lad held for him, he was pinioned and quietly hoisted into the saddle. Instantly, a brace of straps secured him and Samson’s crop cut viciously at the animal’s neck. Then the sailor sprang into his own saddle and, amid the insulting shouts and jeers of the assembled ranchmen, the unfortunate Easterner rode out of the mission courtyard–face backward.

CHAPTER XII
A PROJECTED JOURNEY

She sadly shook her head. All her anger left her as suddenly as it had arisen, and there remained in her mind but one thought–there were people in the world who believed her father had been a thief. That was the hard and bitter fact which nothing could soften. The former trouble about the lost title deed, and the probable loss of her home seemed as nothing to this new distress. How was she to face it? How disprove it? How save her beloved mother from ever hearing it?

There came a step beside her and a strong arm about her shoulders. It was Ephraim Marsh; erect, resolute, protecting.

“Take it easy, daughter. It’s you and me together’ll nail this lie on the door of the man who started it. There’s a blue sky up yonder and a solid earth down here. I’m good to trust the one and tread the other for forty miles a day yet, spite of my white head. If I have to travel this old State over its hundred and fifty-six thousand square miles, before I clinch that falsehood, I’ll clinch it, if I live. If I don’t–laws, dearie, I’m in the same poor box myself. There’s them that believe me a–you know the word. Even your mother––”

“No, Ephraim! She never believed you anything but the splendid man you are.”

“Last night, no shooting, and––”

“It was nothing. She was tired. Aunt Sally always tires her, at first, good as she is and much as we love her. Mother is so quiet and gentle herself––”

“I understand, darlin’.”

“Ephraim, she must never know that dreadful thing the stranger said.”

“Captain, she’ll have to know.”

“She must not, I tell you! What am I for but to take care of and love her? Ned–but Ned’s only a little boy––”

“And you, my Jessie, are but a few years older than he.”

“I’m older than you, I believe! Is it only two days since I met that man in the canyon and things began to happen? It seems forever. As if I’d only lived these forty-eight hours, and all that went before was a dream.”

Ephraim stepped aside and regarded her shrewdly.

“Old words to come from so young a mouth, Lady Captain. Have you had any breakfast?”

“No. I don’t want any. Have you?”

“No. But I’m going to have. As a rule, breakfasts are wholesome. Keeping your stomach quiet keeps your head clear. Things’ll look more natural after we’ve eat. Share mine?”

“No, I mustn’t. Mother would miss me and wonder.”

“You often do.”

“It’s better you share mine to-day. Then we must plan. I heard you say that about you and me together. Will you help me? Shall we prove it wasn’t true–to the rest of the world, I mean–as we know it? Shall we?”

“That’s the rest of my life-job, darlin’. We’ll begin it right away by getting a taste of Aunt Sally’s good victuals. I hate her picra doses, but her cooking beats the Dutch.”

“Afterward?”

“Afterward isn’t touched yet.”

Whether real or affected there had come a cheerfulness into the old man’s tone which it had lacked a few moments earlier. After all he was not useless. Who knew his California as he did? If it were true that money had been sent to Mr. Trent’s hands and was missing, then somewhere was a man who had appropriated it. Whoever and wherever he was, he should be found, and Ephraim Marsh was self-appointed so to find.

Jessica’s hand slipped under his arm, and her own face grew somewhat lighter as she walked beside him toward her own home, where Aunt Sally was keeping an anxious lookout and a most tempting breakfast.

“Bless you, Jessie! I’m glad you’ve come. Step right in, Ephy. Them muffins are so light they’ve nigh flown off the porch. Made with the eggs my hen-chicken laid, comin’ along from Boston. Smartest fowl in the country, and only one I ever owned would brood and lay at the same time. I wouldn’t take a fortune for that bird.”

Aunt Sally’s own cheerfulness was fully restored. With her to be busy helping somebody was, after all, her happiness. And she saw that she had never come to Sobrante more opportunely.

“Your mother isn’t up yet, dearie. And I’ve had the tackers out and washed ’em good. Then I filled them with hot milk, and some of my salt-risin’ bread I fetched along in my box, and put ’em to bed. I promised if they’d go to sleep again I’d make ’em each a saucer-pie, and they went.”

In spite of her heavy heart, Jessica laughed.

“Aunt Sally, I don’t believe there’s another person could make them go to sleep at this time of day; not even my mother.”

“Pooh! Her! Why, that little Edward knows he can twist her round his thumb easy as scat. He’s too much the look of his father for Gabriella ever to be sot with him. You, now, you favor her folks.”

Here, foreseeing that the talkative woman was off on a long track, Ephraim mildly inquired:

“Aunt Sally, did you bring that rheumatism-oil you had last time you were here?”

She put on her spectacles and looked at him over them, as was her habit. Never, by any chance, had she been known to look through them, and her explanation of wearing them at all was simply: “It’s proper for a woman of my age.”

“Ephy, you feel real bright, don’t you? You and rheumatism! Why, man, you’ll be getting married before you get rheumatic.”

“Then I’ll never need the oil.”

She was not to be so easily worsted. If Ephraim was minded to be facetious, she’d match him at the business. Whereupon, instead of rehearsing the history of Gabriella’s “folks” she veered round upon disease and gave them details of all the dreadful things she had ever heard till “Forty-niner” cried, “Quits! I’ll not tackle you again.”

Mrs. Benton’s eyes twinkled over her cup, for she had joined them at table. She knew, as he did, that this was but foolish sport, yet that it had served their mutual purpose; which was to divert Jessica’s thoughts from trouble and her lips from asking why her mother did not appear.

But the meal over, the question came, and the answer was ready:

“Why, I just coaxed her to lie and rest a spell. She knew that I’d look after things all right, and can make butter next grade to hers, if I can’t equal. Anybody that’s been worrying with a Chinaman as long as she has needs a vacation, I ’low. So she’s taking a mite of one.”

“Then I’ll gather a bunch of roses and take to her. I’m glad to have her rest, and I hope–Aunt Sally, do you suppose she heard any of that dreadful man’s talk? Did you tell her?”

“No; I didn’t tell her. I’d sooner never say another word as long as I live than do such a thing. You needn’t be afraid to trust your old auntie, child. There, run along and make her a posy.”

But no sooner had Jessica gone into the garden than Aunt Sally’s lips were close to Ephraim’s ear, and she was whispering:

“She heard it, every word. She didn’t say so, and I didn’t ask. But the look of it in her eyes. Ephraim Marsh, I’ve got a heartbroken woman on my hands, and don’t you dare to tell me a word ’at I haven’t.”

“Oh, that tongue of yours! Last night when you were yelling at him why didn’t you think about other folks’ hearts and be still? You’ve a voice like a fog horn when you’re mad–or pleased, either!” cried this honest, ungallant frontiersman.

“I know it, Ephy. It’s the truth. I realize it as well as you do. And I was mad. Since she heard, anyway, I wish now ’at I’d up and thrashed him good. I had laid out to put a little bitter dose in his coffee this morning, but he went away without taking any,” she ended, grimly.

“Sally Benton, you’re quite contriving. What’s to be done?”

Before she could reply Jessica came back, her arms full of great rose-branches and her face bright with confidence.

“Ephraim, Aunt Sally, I’ve thought of something. It came to me out there among the roses, like a voice speaking; my mother must not and need not be told what Mr. Hale said. It isn’t wicked to deceive her in this, for her own good. Often you’ve asked her to let you take me horseback trip to Los Angeles, stopping nights at houses on the way, with people who knew my father; and she’s promised I should ‘some time.’ I think the ‘some time’ has come. She will be glad to have us go, for one thing, to find out about the feather markets and others that Antonio used to take care of, but has left. Aunt Sally does two things at once; why not we? We’ll hunt that man who took the money; and if I can’t find the deed first–though, of course, I shall–we’ll straighten that out, too. Isn’t that good sense?”