“When I read that heading I was sure at once that it referred to our Tom,” Virg said.
“And does it?” Megsy asked eagerly.
“Read along and decide for yourself,” her friend replied and so Margaret bent her head over the sheet and read aloud:
“To all whom it may concern, and to the young man calling himself Tom Wentworth in particular, this article is addressed: Be it known that a Mexican, Miguel Lopez, on his death-bed confessed to having been guilty of a crime, the circumstantial evidence of which he cleverly turned upon an innocent bystander who has ever since (being unable to prove his innocence) been a fugitive from justice. Tom Wentworth, a young man of about eighteen is tall, slim, with wavy light brown hair and blue-grey eyes.
“When last heard of he was hiding in The Seven Peak Range just across the Mexican border in Arizona. Anyone reading this article who has knowledge of the whereabouts of the young man in question, will confer a favor upon the state authorities of Texas if he or she will inform the same that he is no longer held guilty of the crime which was unjustly attributed to him.”
“There!” Virginia exclaimed. “Now what do you think of that?”
“It surely must mean our Tom,” Megsy began. Then she added excitedly, “Oh, Virg, I was right, wasn’t I? Tom’s last names does begin with W, but it is Wentworth and not Wente. However, it is curious, isn’t it, that he and Babs have last names so near alike?”
Virginia nodded. “Now,” she said, “the big question is, how shall we get this glorious news to Tom in the shortest possible time?”
“It surely can’t be done tonight,” Margaret, said as she lighted the lamp with its warm crimson shade, “for it is nearly dark.” Then she added, “Isn’t there some way to telephone to the Wilson Ranch?”
Virg shook her head. “No,” she replied, “distances are so great here on the desert that the only telephone lines are those that have been erected by neighbors for their own private use. Our telephone connects us with the Dartley ranch and was put up merely for protection in case either of us might be in urgent need of assistance.”
Then as she seated herself by the table, Virg said, “When Malcolm comes in we’ll ask his advice. Oh, I am so happy about it! How I wish I might be with Tom when he hears the goods news that I might see his face glow when he realizes that he is no longer a fugitive from justice. But who is your letter from?”
“Another plump epistle from Babs!” Megsy replied. “Shall I read it to you?” Virg nodded in the affirmative and took up her sewing. Margaret unfolded the truly voluminous letter and began reading another chapter in the life of Babs at the Vine Haven Boarding School.
CHAPTER XXXVII—AN APRIL FOOL ROMANCE.
“Dearest Cowgirls:
You never could guess what has happened since I wrote you last and, since you are too far away for me to really enjoy mystifying you, I will tell you all about it.
Well, to begin at the beginning. You know there are certain girls in this school who have always wished that they could be members of “The Lucky 13,” but, for various reasons, we have not wished to enlarge our membership nor include these particular girls, and so they formed a club of their own and called it “The Exclusive Three.” Then, if you please, they actually told around that we had invited them to become members of our club, but that they had refused since some of our fathers were tradespeople, while all of their fathers are retired gentlemen.
Of course, you know, that sort of snobbishness never impresses “The Lucky Thirteen.” We took it all as a joke and were glad they were to have a club of their own, for we want everyone to be happy.
Poor Miss Piquilin happens to have the entire membership of these rival clubs in her algebra class, and, since the members of “The Exclusive Three” are not very studious, they often fail in their lessons. The consequence is that while Miss Piquilin is just dear to “The Lucky Thirteen,” she is still Miss Pickle at her sourest to “The Exclusive Three.” It seems that they decided to punish her by playing a practical joke on April Fools’ Day. We found out about it in this way. I went down to the library one evening to get a reference book. I didn’t turn on the light for I knew exactly where the book stood on the shelf. Just as I was reaching for it, I heard whispered voices in the portiere-covered alcove and I recognized Rose Hedge’s voice. She was saying: “We’ll get even with that sour Miss Pickle. She’s in love with Professor Pixley at the Drexel Military Academy. As though he would even look at her!”
Then I heard Hattie Drew ask: “How shall we get even, Rose?” I did want to stay and hear the answer, but mother has taught me that it is as wrong to listen to a conversation not intended for my ears as it is to steal something that does not belong to me, and so, having found the book, I left the room without having made my presence known.
I told the members of “The Lucky Thirteen” that the girls in “The Exclusive Three” were plotting some April Fool mischief against poor Miss Piquilin and we all decided that it was a mean shame if those spiteful girls succeeded in doing anything to shatter the budding romance.
We guessed this and surmised that, but, of course, we had no way of really knowing what those girls planned doing.
“Oh dear,” said Betsy Clossen, “I do wish it were not dishonorable to listen. Don’t you think that sometimes the end justifies the means?”
“Never!” Kittie Squires said so emphatically that we all jumped. Kittie seldom speaks but when she does, it’s right to the point.
“Well, then, what shall we do?” Jennie Clark asked. “Miss Piquilin has been so kind to us, it doesn’t seem right for us not to make an effort to save her romance from being shattered.”
“Leave it to me!” Betsy Clossen said. “I’ll find a way.” When Betsy spoke in that tone of voice, we all knew she would accomplish whatever she set out to do. We were curious to know how she would go about it, but it was April the first before we found out.
We girls played all of the regulation jokes, the same ones that are played every year. We bought candy that had cotton inside of a delicious chocolate coating; we slipped into each other’s closets and sewed up sleeves, but those things were tame compared to what happened during the two o’clock study hour.
Dora Wells had put a small green toad into Kittie Squire’s desk. I will never forget the terrorized cry that shrilled through the silence when that timid girl opened her desk and the equally frightened little frog, giving a leap for liberty, landed, first in Kittie’s lap, and then out on the floor of the study hall. Instantly it was like bedlam let loose.
The girls, who couldn’t see what wild animal was in their midst, imagined the worst, and scrambled up on their desks holding their skirts tight about them.
I laugh every time I think of the comical sight they made, and just at that moment the door opened and in came our principal, Mrs. Martin, and with her were the Reverend John Thornton and a very wealthy lady who was visiting our school, we heard afterwards, to see whether or not it was a proper place to send her niece who is related to nobility or some such.
Well, I wish you could have seen the expression on the face of dear Mrs. Martin when she beheld so many of the girls standing on their desks looking everywhere about as though they expected to see at least a huge rat.
“The Marchioness,” as we afterwards dubbed her, stared through her lorgnette in amazed horror, but the Reverend John proved that he was really human for there was a twinkle in his eye when he spied the frog and picking it up, he dropped it out of an open window into the garden below.
Of course, as you know, the young ladies of Vine Haven are well trained in manners, and so, a second later, we were all lined up on the floor making properly graceful courtesies, but afterwards we were told that “The Marchioness” decided not to send her niece to our school as she did not wish to have her drilled in “acrobatics.” She evidently supposed that we were all doing our daily exercises in some outlandish American fashion. The young lady, we heard later, was sent to a convent in Paris. My, but we’re glad she didn’t come here if she is anything like her aunt.
But all this time none of us knew what Betsy Clossen was doing to save the romance of poor Miss Piquilin.
When we went to our algebra class we of “The Lucky Thirteen” held our heads high and looked daggers at “The Exclusive Three,” who were whispering every time Miss Piquilin wrote on the board.
I glanced often at Betsy and I realized that her mind was not on algebra. Evidently she had not discovered what the enemy planned doing, but I had never known Betsy to fail in anything she undertook, and so I was sure that in due time she would unearth the desired information if it could be obtained in an honorable manner.
Nor was I wrong as we soon found out.
Becky Hensley was the only member of “The Exclusive Three” who did not appear happy. She seemed to have something on her mind that was making her miserable. Every little while she stared into space and when Miss Piquilin spoke to her directly, she seemed to come back to the school room with a start. We just knew that the other two had used Becky as a cat’s paw for their scheme, whatever it was.
Becky is really a nice girl, but she is easily led. Well, she failed completely on the test that morning, and Miss Piquilin, truly out of patience, and rightly so, commanded her to remain in that class room until she could hand in a perfect paper.
The poor girl was sobbing when the other pupils filed out and I was sure that in her upset state of mind, the child wouldn’t be able to solve the simplest kind of a problem if she stayed in the class room all night.
Betsy Clossen, who was monitor that day, stayed to put things away and she told us afterwards that as soon as they were alone, Miss Piquilin looked very sorrowfully at the bent head of the sobbing girl. Then going to her, she said kindly, “Becky, don’t you understand at all what I have been trying to teach you? Tell me! Don’t be afraid. Perhaps I have not been as patient as I should have been. It all seems so simple to me, now, perhaps I forget that once it was difficult.”
Becky looked up, seemingly surprised, and yet touched by the kind tone. “No, Miss Piquilin,” she replied, “I really don’t understand algebra at all.
“I was absent during the first part of the term, when—when mother died, and I guess I missed so much that I just can’t catch up.”
“Dear girl!” Miss Piquilin said tenderly, “Forgive me if I have been harsh. If you wish, I will stay during my rest period for half an hour and review what you have missed.”
Becky’s eyes glowed her gratitude. “Oh, Miss Piquilin, how kind you are!” she said. “Dad is so proud of me and I want to do well for his sake. I’m all he has, now.”
“And so he shall be proud of you,” Miss Piquilin declared. “Now dry your eyes, dear, and run out and play.”
When our teacher was gone, Becky sat staring out of the window with such an unhappy expression; then, all of a sudden she put her head down on her arms and sobbed harder than before.
Betsy went over to her and said, “Dearie, don’t cry now! Didn’t Miss Piquilin excuse you?”
“Yes. Yes,” the girl sobbed, “but, Oh Betsy, I wish I hadn’t done it, especially now that she has been so kind. When I thought she was a mean, horrid old thing, it wasn’t so hard to do. Oh dear! Oh dear!”
Then, all of her own free will, Becky told what she had done that she so deeply regretted. We were all horrified when Betsy told us half an hour later.
“We had a meeting of ‘The Lucky Thirteen’ in my room to try to decide what was best to do and Becky Hensley was with us. You simply never could guess the April Fool’s trick that Rose Hedge of ‘The Exclusive Three’ had planned, and so I will have to tell you.”
“Becky Hensley, you don’t mean to tell us that Rose Hedge actually wrote a letter to Professor Pixley and signed Miss Piquilin’s name to it?”
Becky nodded. “I feel like a traitor telling you girls. Rose and Hattie will hate me and they’ll make my life so miserable I’ll just have to leave school.”
Betsy Clossen slipped an arm about the younger girl. “Dear,” she said, “your conscience would make you more miserable if you did not try to right the wrong you have done in the lives of these two good people, and, as for Rose and Hattie, I do not like to speak unkindly of anyone, but do you think they are the girls your mother would want you to choose for your best friends?”
“No, indeed not,” Becky declared “and I do so want to get the letter back if I can.” Then she looked eagerly at Betsy, as she asked, “Do you suppose that we could get it before it is delivered? I slipped out and put it in the street mail box before the nine-ten collection.”
“Then it has been delivered by this time,” Betsy replied. “What was in the letter?”
“Rose wrote it,” Becky said, “and she wouldn’t let me read it all, but this was the beginning, ‘Dear Professor Pixley, thank you for asking me to marry you. I will be glad to do so next June,’ and then it was signed ‘from your loving Beatrice.’ Rose copied Miss Piquilin’s signature from a letter she found in the waste basket.”
“Oh, how dreadful!” we all said with horrified glances one at another.
“Miss Piquilin will be mortified when she finds out and of course it will completely shatter their romance.”
Suddenly Betsy sprang up as she exclaimed, “Girls, it is moonlight, I suggest that three of us cut through the woods, go down to the Chocolate Shop and telephone to Professor Pixley and tell him that the letter he received was just an April Fool joke, and beg him never to tell our dear Miss Piquilin a word about it. I am sure he’ll understand because he has such twinkling eyes.”
Of course Betsy and Becky were two of the three to go, and Betsy chose me for the third. She and I have been chums, Megsy, since you left. Well, it was 8 o’clock and we knew we would have to hurry if we were to be back and in our beds before 9 o’clock, lights out, bell rang and so away we skipped.
It was dark in the woods but through the trees we could see the little creek gleaming in the moonlight. It was so pretty down there in the spring when the water is high.
Suddenly Betsy clutched my arm and pointed. Just ahead of us was a white object that looked for all the world like a ghost. Unfortunately for us, Becky screamed. A dark object appeared at the side of the ghost and they hurried toward us. It was our Miss Piquilin and Professor Pixley. Scared as we were, we could see that both looked radiantly happy.
“Girls!” Miss Piquilin exclaimed with an attempt at severity, “What does this mean? Where are you going?”
“Don’t scold them, Beatrice,” the young professor intervened, “They probably came to see the moonlight on the water just as we did.” Then he added, “Young ladies, you will have to look for another algebra teacher next term for your Miss Piquilin and I are to be married in June.”
“Oh—oh—I am so glad!” Becky gasped, then seizing us each by the hand she fled back to the school with Betsy and me in tow.
We never knew what happened, but it didn’t matter, for surely all is well that ends well. The very next day Alice Barker went home for the rest of the year, and so Becky Hensley was admitted to membership in “The Lucky 13,” and wasn’t she the happiest girl?
Goodbye, dear cow-girls! You’ll see me in two months and one week. Lovingly, your Babs.
“Wasn’t that an interesting letter?” Virg said. “Good! Here comes Malcolm. Now we can tell him about Tom Wentworth.”
CHAPTER XXXVIII—A SUDDEN REALIZATION.
When Malcolm entered the ranch living-room, his sister Virginia told him of the newspaper article which they had discovered. “That’s great news!” he exclaimed, “We must convey it to the one most interested as soon as we can. Let me see. This is Tuesday. Perhaps by day after tomorrow I can arrange things here so that I can ride into Douglas. There I can telephone to the postoffice at Red Riverton and possibly get in touch with some one from the Wilson ranch.”
“Oh brother! Two whole days! I could send a letter in less time than that,” Virginia protested.
“But, of what use would a letter be if it were left lying in the postoffice for no one knows how long?” Margaret remarked. “Tom wrote, you remember, that their mail is not often called for.”
“You are right,” Virginia agreed as she returned to her sewing, “but I am so impatient to have Tom learn this glorious news.”
“But Sis, why are you so sure that the article refers to our Tom?” Malcolm asked as he glanced from the paper which he had been reading.
“True, it does describe him and yet this same description would fit a dozen other fair young men. There is nothing unusual about it, and we have no reason to think that his last name is Wentworth, have we?”
“Oh, Virg, we never told Malcolm about that letter, did we?” Margaret exclaimed, and then, turning to the curious lad, she explained about the scratched out name, the first initial of which had been faintly visible.
“That does seem like almost conclusive evidence,” Malcolm declared. “Well, I sincerely hope that you are right,” he added, “for I liked Tom’s frank, pleasant face the moment I saw him on Second Peak with you girls and even after he had declared that he was an outlaw. I still liked and trusted him.”
“Brother,” Virg said a few moments later as she dropped her sewing in her lap and looked up, “if Tom wishes to do so, may he return here and live with us? Before he left he told us that his week at V. M. had been the happiest bit of home life that he had had since his own mother died.”
“Why, of course he may return if he wishes,” Malcolm said in his hearty way. “I need someone to remain on the ranch when I am gone. Slim and Lucky are splendid fellows, but they do not care to assume the entire responsibility during my absence. Tom has had greater advantages, and, though he may not know as much about cattle, he is intelligent enough to learn in short order.”
Then glancing at the clock, Malcolm added, “The hour is nine and if I am to do two days’ work in one tomorrow that I may be free the next, I must hie me to my slumbers.”
The lad bade them goodnight and started to leave the room, but he turned at the door and said, “The mountain road is in bad condition, otherwise I would ask you young ladies to accompany me to Douglas on Tuesday, but I fear it would not be safe for our Rollabout, and it is too far for Margaret to ride.”
That maiden looked up eagerly. “Oh Malcolm, I do wish you would let me try riding Star into Douglas. If Virg can, surely I can also.”
“Good!” the lad declared, “I shall indeed be glad to have your company.”
The girls visited for half an hour longer, and then they too retired. Virginia felt strangely eager and excited.
The next day the two girls gave the ranch house a thorough cleaning. “Time goes much faster if one keeps every minute of it occupied,” Virginia had declared, “and the spring cleaning is due, so let’s go at it.”
When Malcolm and Lucky came in for the noon repast, they laughed to see the two young housekeepers in all-over gingham aprons with pretty dust-caps on their heads, wielding broom and brush in so vigorous a manner.
“You boys will have to lunch alone today,” Margaret told them, “for we girls must finish sweeping the living-room and then while we dine, the dust will be settling.”
The boys pretended to be greatly disappointed, but that night at dinner Virg and Margaret made up for their seeming neglect. They dressed in their prettiest house gowns and laughed and chattered, making the meal a merry one.
“How everything shines!” Malcolm declared as he looked at the glistening glass and silver. “You aren’t expecting company, are you, Sis?”
“Of course not!” Virginia replied. “You know we always go over the house this way every spring and fall and many times in between.”
Later in the evening when the cow-boy had gone to the bunkhouse and the three young people sat about the library table, the girls sewing, and Malcolm reading a cattleman’s magazine, Virg suddenly exclaimed, “Just think Megsy, tomorrow Tom is to know the wonderful news. How I wish that he might be able to leave the sheep ranch right away and come back to us. I do hope that he has not entered into an agreement of any sort promising to remain with Mr. Wilson for a definite length of time.”
The girl, happening to glance up just then, found the kind, gray eyes of her brother earnestly regarding her. “Do you care so much about Tom’s coming, Virginia?” Malcolm asked. Then fearing that his question would be an embarrassing one for his sister to answer (for he had noted the sudden rose in her cheeks) he hurriedly added, “I, too, will be glad to see Tom. I believe he will be free to come whenever he wishes.”
After that Malcolm seemed to read on, apparently deeply absorbed in the articles in his magazine, but in reality he did not even see the printed page for he had suddenly realized that his sister was a little girl no longer, that indeed she was verging on young womanhood, and that some day, perhaps soon, she would care more for someone else than she did for him; she might even go somewhere else to live and leave him alone on the V. M. Ranch.
After about half an hour of vain endeavor to grasp the meaning of the scientific article, Malcolm closed the magazine and, looking up, caught an amused twinkle in Margaret’s violet eyes and saw the dimple that he had always thought the prettiest thing a girl could possess.
Leaning over Megsy said merrily, “Malcolm, hand me that magazine! I am going to give you an oral exam in what you have read. You have been staring at one page for so long, I think you must have been memorizing the commas.”
Malcolm laughed and said irrelevantly, “Thank you for darning my socks, Mistress Megsy. I see you have one now in your nimble fingers.”
Then, rising, he added, “Nine o’clock, girls, and I want you to be ready for the saddle by five tomorrow morning. It’s a long, hard ride to Douglas and back. Good night.”
The girls soon heard him whistling in another part of the house.
A sudden glad hope had awakened in Malcolm’s consciousness. Perhaps, just perhaps, he might not have to live alone after all.
CHAPTER XXXIX—LONG DISTANCE PHONE MESSAGE.
The sun was just appearing above a range of misty gray mountains far across the desert on the eastern horizon when the three young riders reached the top of the mesa trail and drew rein to watch while the glory of the dawn flamed the mountain peaks with rose and gold.
“A wonderful day has come and surely that is a good omen,” Virginia said. “I feel as excited as though something very unusual were about to happen.”
Virg was right! Something very unusual and unexpected was about to happen, but the nature of the something was very different from that which they anticipated.
It was nearly noon when Douglas was reached and Malcolm declared that the girls must go at once to the Inn and rest for several hours before making the return trip. Virg consented, declaring, however, that she wished to remain with Malcolm until she knew the result of his endeavor to get in touch with the Wilson Ranch, so together the three young people went to a long distance telephone. Red Riverton postoffice soon responded and the postmistress inquired, “Do you say that you wish to communicate, if possible, with someone from the Wilson Ranch? Harry Wilson was in here about half an hour ago. He always hitches his horse in front of the postoffice. Hold the wire and I will see if it is still there.”
While Malcolm held the receiver he rapidly told the girls what the communication had been.
“Oh, I do hope he hasn’t gone,” Virg said when Malcolm’s attention was again called. “No, Harry Wilson hasn’t left town. His horse is still in front. I will have a small boy stand there and tell Harry to see me when he returns. Where will he be able to get in touch with you?”
“Give the telephone number of the Inn,” Virginia said when her brother turned to her for a suggestion.
This was done and the three young people hurried across the hall and sat in the queer little parlor to await a call from Harry.
Several times the phone rang but it was always for someone else.
At last the lone clerk at the desk went away and while he was gone the telephone rang imperatively several times in rapid succession. Malcolm sprang up and answered it, then he beckoned to the girls.
“It’s for us,” he told them; then to Harry, who was at the other end of the line, he said, “This is Malcolm Davis. Surely you remember me, don’t you?
“I stayed several days at your place two years ago in September. I thought you’d remember that. We had great fun that day, didn’t we? Yes, I do plan coming up north again some time, but today I called up to ask about our friend Tom. We are eager to get into communication with him as soon as possible.
“He isn’t in town with you, is he? What? You don’t know where he is? Has he left you? How long has he been gone? Over a week now? And no trace of him has been found? There hasn’t been a storm, has there? Hum! That certainly is serious. You are sending out a searching party? When do they leave? I’ll try to get there. Yes, indeed. I’ll start for your place as soon as I possibly can. Goodbye.”
“Malcolm, what is it? What has happened to Tom?” Virg asked her face suddenly paled with anxiety.
The lad led the girls back to the stiff little parlor.
“Tom hasn’t deserted them, has he?” Virginia asked eagerly. “Oh, brother, I am so sure he hasn’t proved untrustworthy.”
Malcolm shook his head. “Not that,” he said dismally. “I wish he had deserted of his own free will. Anything would be better than that which has happened. I’m terribly sorry now that I brought you girls with me into town, but, of course, you must know the truth. Instead of being untrustworthy, Tom may have risked his life to prove his worthiness of a trust. Harry says that his father had five hundred very valuable Merinos coming by rail and they wanted to send their best man to meet them and drive the sheep in from the station, so they selected Tom, and as there was need of two drivers for so large a flock, little Francisco Quintano Mendoza accompanied him. Harry expected that about three days would be required to drive the flock through the mountain pass, stopping to graze and rest in the grassy valleys, but four and then five days passed and Tom did not return.
“Harry had not accompanied them because his father was away at the time and his mother alone on the ranch, but, at last he became so anxious that his mother urged him to ride to Red Riverton. There he found that the Merinos had arrived safely the week before and that Tom and the small Mexican boy had driven them away about noon on the day of their arrival, and that they had taken the beaten track toward the mountains where they had been lost to sight when they entered the Red Rock Pass.
“Harry then visited the sheriff and together with several men, they rode to the pass, but although they could see many hoof-prints in the soft mud where a spring kept the ground ever moist, they could not trace them on the desert where the winds often changed the surface of the sand.
“The sheriff and his men seemed to believe that Tom has turned rustler and that he had spirited away the valuable Merinos for his own gain, but to this suggestion Harry would not listen. He knew Tom to be absolutely trustworthy, he declared, but since he had no better theory to offer, the men left him still unconvinced.
“The father has now returned and at his suggestion a large party of men are to start on a wide circling round-up of the entire sheep raising section of the state, hoping in that way to come upon some evidence that may at least solve the mystery if it does not enable them to recover the lost sheep. They need more assistance, Harry tells me, and so I promised to go to him as soon as I possibly can.”
“Oh dear! Oh dear!” Virg exclaimed, unshed tears in her eyes, “I shall never forgive myself for having sent Tom north if harm has befallen him.”
“My theory,” Malcolm continued, “is that a band of thieves, rustlers, knew that the very valuable shipment of Merinos was due, and that they were lying in wait in the pass for Tom and in some manner they have spirited away both the flock and the drivers. I believe that this will be proved true when we round up that entire section.”
Then looking at Virginia anxiously, he added, “I ought to go north from here, as I can follow the state road and reach Red Riverton at least half a day sooner than I could from home but I do not like to leave you girls unprotected. I wish—”
He stopped speaking and stared at someone who had just entered the Inn. Then excusing himself, he hurried out.
The persons whom Malcolm had seen were no other than his good neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Dartley. They were surprised to see the young man and note his very evident excitement. Hurriedly Malcolm explained the situation. “Of course we will look after the girls,” the kindly Mrs. Dartley declared, then, going into the prim little parlor, she held out both plump, freckled hands as she said sympathetically, “You poor dears! I just know how worried you are about your friend Tom, but you’ll feel better, I’m sure, to have Malcolm help in the search. My husband and I drove in with the buggy. We’ll be going back about 3 o’clock, and you can ride along with us as far as the sand hills. You won’t mind going the rest of the way to V. M . alone, I know, because you ride it so often.”
The girls assured Mrs. Dartley that they would be in their saddles at the hour of 3 and that good woman then bustled away to do the shopping that had brought her into town.
Malcolm returned and took his sister’s hand. “Virginia,” he said earnestly, “don’t grieve yet, I honestly believe that we are going to find Tom somewhere, unharmed and being worthy of the trust that was placed in him.”
After dining together at the Inn, Malcolm departed. When he was gone, the girls wandered out to look about the stores and make a few purchases and pass away the time until 3.
That hour at last arrived and Virginia and Margaret were waiting in their saddles, when the Dartley equipage appeared from the stables. The girls were not very talkative and the kind woman, realizing that they were greatly worried about their friend whom she herself knew little, did not expect them to talk and the long journey was made almost in absolute silence.
When the sand hills were reached, it was growing dusk. “My, but you two girls must be all tired out,” Mrs. Dartley said as her husband drew rein. “You’ve been in the saddle most all day, being as you left home before sunrise, but Uncle Tex will have a good supper waiting for you and then you get right into bed. Young folks like you two rest up easy and tomorrow you’ll be as bright as ever. Telephone to me, Virgie, if you need anything or hear any news.”
“Yes, I will Mrs. Dartley, and thank you for escorting us this far. Goodnight! Goodnight!”
Then the girls started down the trail toward V. M. through the gathering dusk. “How I do hope it will be a good night for our Tom,” Virginia said, “wherever he is.” Then, as they dismounted at the home corral, she added, “Oh, if only I were a man so that I might join in the search.”
Virginia little dreamed of the very important part she was to play even though she were only a girl.
CHAPTER XL—A SURPRISING TELEGRAM.
The next day the girls were restless; troubled by the uncertainty of it all, and anxiously waiting for news, although they had no way of hearing directly from Red Riverton. However, Malcolm had promised that he would telegraph Mr. Wells at the Junction if there were any definite news, then he could ride over and deliver it to the girls.
Uncle Tex, when told all that had happened, shook his head dismally. “Ah reckon as how Malcolm is right,” he drawled, “Rustlers ’twas as took the herd, like’s not, and if so, they’ve hushed up the drivers someway.” Then noting the white face of the girl he so loved, he hastened to add, self-reproachingly, “Thar! Thar! Miss Virginia dearie, ah ought not to skeer yo’ all that-a-way. Like’s not yo’ friend Tom is safe somewhar. Ah feels in ma bones as we’ll heah news somehow today.”
“So do I,” Margaret declared, “and honestly, Virg, I believe that it will be good news.”
Virginia smiled wanly, and then, springing up she exclaimed, “Let’s ride over to The Junction, Megsy, and see if there is any mail for us. That will help to pass the time away.”
They were soon in the saddle, but, before they had left the dooryard, Margaret pointed up toward the mesa trail. “Someone is coming at top-speed,” she called over her shoulder. They drew rein and watched the rapidly approaching cloud of sand in the midst of which they soon saw a small horse and a boy rider.
“It’s Wells,” Virginia cried excitedly, urging forward to meet the newcomer. “I do believe that he has a telegram for us.”
“He certainly has,” Megsy agreed, as she rode alongside. “See! He is waving a yellow envelope. I am sure it is good news or Malcolm would not have wired it.”
But a surprise awaited the girls. It was a telegram, to be sure, that the boy gave to Virginia, but it was not about Tom nor from Malcolm.
“Margaret Selover!” Virginia exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise when she had read the message. “Who do you suppose this telegram is from?”
“Babs?” was the eager inquiry.
“Yes, Babs. The school has been closed because of an epidemic and her father is bringing her West at once. In fact, she will arrive at The Junction this afternoon at 2.”
“Isn’t that the most wonderful news?” Margaret cried. “Oh Virg! I can hardly believe it possible that I am to see my beloved roommate this very day.”
“It is hard to believe but it must be true,” her friend laughingly replied; then she called to the little boy who was starting away on his Pinto. “Wait, I am going to give you something.”
The something was a big shiny silver dollar. The boy’s eyes were almost as big and bright when he clasped it in his small grimy hand. “Is it all fo’ me Miss Virginia?” he asked, and, when assured that it was he ejaculated, “Gee Whilikers!” Then, quite forgetting his manners, he started the pony on a mad race for home but whirled around to shout, “Thank you, Miss Virginia!” from up on the mesa trail.
“If I only knew that all is well at the Wilson Ranch,” Virginia said, “I would be so happy about Barbara’s coming. Of course I am glad, as it is, to have her visit us, but it does seem as though I can’t be really merry again until I know what has happened to Tom.”
“I understand just how you feel, dear,” Margaret replied as the two girls, having returned their horses to the corral, started walking arm in arm toward the house.
At dinner that noon Virginia asked Lucky if he would drive them to The Junction in their car, which Malcolm called the “Rollabout,” to meet the 2:10 train. The kindly cow-boy assured them that he would do so. At 1 o’clock the two girls were in the big touring car with Lucky at the wheel, and at 2 o’clock were waiting at the Junction for the coming of the train.
“Maybe some word about Tom will arrive from Malcolm while we are here,” Virginia said, as she and Margaret sat on the bench in front of the long, low building which was station, postoffice, general store and home of the Wells family.
There were no other buildings in sight, only desert and mountains with here and there, near the creek bed, a clump of cottonwood trees where a silver thread of water trickled from the rocks.
Suddenly Virginia sprang up and listened to the clicking of the instrument within. “A telegram,” she said. “But Mr. Wells isn’t here so how are we to know what it is?”
“There he is, down the track,” Margaret told her, and Virginia, running forward, eagerly called, “Oho, Mr. Wells, isn’t a telegram coming in?”
“Wall, now, like as not,” the good man replied, as he bustled into the small ticket office. The girls, with tightly clasped hands, waited breathlessly. Would it be a message from Malcolm?
At last Mr. Wells peered smilingly at them, over his glasses. “Tain’t nothin’ unusual,” he said. “Tain’t nothin’ unusual,” he said. “Train’s late. That’s all, but it may make up time on the down grade. It usually does.”
The girls sank back on the hard bench truly disappointed.
“Here comes the train!” little Wells sang out ten minutes later as he raced toward them. The roaring noise in the tunnel proved the truth of his statement even before the long train drawn by two engines emerged into the sunlight.
The girls ran forward and eagerly scanned each coach.
“There she is! There’s my Babs!” Megsy sang out as she saw her friend’s face beaming through one of the windows. A moment later, when the train had come to a standstill, Barbara leaped to the platform, dropped suitcase and umbrella, and gave Megsy a good, hard, schoolgirl hug. Then she whirled about and held out both hands to Virginia as she bubbled, “I’m not going to wait to be introduced for I know you well and love you right this very minute.” Then putting an arm about each she exclaimed happily, “I wonder if you dear cow-girls have any idea how excited and delighted I am to be here.”
“We are just as excited, and I do believe even more delighted,” Margaret declared. “We hardly know what to say or do.”
“Well, first of all, please, lead me to a cafeteria,” Babs implored. “A—a which?” Virginia inquired, truly puzzled, for the western girl had never before heard of such a place.
How Margaret laughed! “Babs,” she said, “if you can find one on our desert, we will gladly pay for whatever you wish to order.”
Barbara looked about, her eyes glowing. “Oh! Oh!” she exclaimed. “I’m glad—glad that there isn’t one around. I’ve been just longing to get away from civilization, and so, the wilder it is out here, the better I shall like it.” They were starting toward the car, when kind Mrs. Wells hailed them from her kitchen door. “Virgie!” she called, “wouldn’t you girls like a few of my sugar cookies? They’re just fresh from the bakin’.”
“Do my ears hear right?” Babs said dramatically, in a low undertone, while Virginia was gladly accepting the proffered treat. “Barbara,” the western girl called, “you and Megsy come here. I want Mrs. Wells to meet the newest addition to the V. M. family and if we like, we may each have a glass of buttermilk.”
“Wall, now, Miss Barbara, you’ve come to stay on the desert for a spell, hev yo’?” the motherly woman asked as she smiled down at the petite Babs. Then she added, “Yo’ aren’t much bigger than a pint o’ honey, and I can easy tell by your sunny face that you’re most as sweet.”
Virginia took two of her sugar cookies over to the waiting Lucky who had spent most of the hour discussing desert topics with Mr. Wells.
Babs gazed at the lean, sinewy, sun-browned cow-boy with unconcealed interest, and when she was introduced, she extended her small gloved hand saying eagerly, “Oh, Mr. Lucky, you do look like Bill Hart, don’t you? He’s the cow-boy I’m best acquainted with, but he always has a gun sticking out of his hip pocket or somewhere. I don’t suppose that you carry a gun, do you?”
The cow-boy replied, with his good-natured drawl, that he usually “packed” along a couple or so, and to prove this statement, he produced two small guns. After a whispered hint from the fun-loving Margaret, Lucky threw an empty bottle high in the air and then, firing three times in rapid succession, he shattered the bottle, much to the delight of the newly arrived easterner.
Later, when Babs and Margaret were on the back seat of the “Rollabout” the former confided in a low voice, “I’m so glad to find that cow-boys are really like moving pictures. The girls in school said they knew I was going to be disappointed, but I’m not! Everything is just as I had expected, only heaps more so!”
Megsy reached out and took her friend’s hand. “You’ll love it here, Babsie,” she said, “and, too, you will love Virginia and Malcolm.
“I care for my guardian now just as though he were my own brother,” she added, trying to convince herself that her words were true. Then she leaned back, wondering where her guardian might be at that moment. Babs, too, was glad to be quiet that she might look about at the desert and mountains and rejoice that at last she was in the land of which she had so long dreamed.
Uncle Tex was waiting on the porch of the ranch house, and, if Babs wished to see a character who would have rejoiced the heart of a moving picture director, she surely did in the old man who had been a cow-boy since those early days when the desert teemed with exciting adventure.
“Miss Virginia, dearie,” he drawled, when he had carried in the luggage, “that thar Injun boy was here twict while yo’ all’s been gone.”
Babs was eagerly listening. “Oh, was that little Red Feather, Megsy, that you wrote me about? I’m just wild to see him.”
Virginia assented. “I wonder what he wanted,” she said, then, as a sudden thought came to her, she caught Margaret’s hand as she exclaimed, “Megsy, if Tom manages to escape from the rustlers, I do believe that he would go to the Indian village to hide. A stranger never could find the entrance in the wall of rocks unless he just happened to stumble upon it.”
“I do hope you are right,” Margaret replied. “I hope our Tom is safe with the Papagoes.”
“Girls,” the mystified Barbara exclaimed, “who are you talking about? Has anything happened to the outlaw Tom about whom you wrote me?” Virginia, remembering that she was hostess, and that her anxiety must not occupy her thought to the exclusion of the comfort of the newly arrived guest, then exclaimed, “Margaret will tell you all about it while you unpack. I am sure you will want to wash and rest a while before supper. You two are to room together just as you did at school. Meanwhile, I will hie me to the kitchen and assist Uncle Tex in preparing an early repast, for I am sure that you are still hungry after so long a journey.”
When the two eastern friends had entered Margaret’s pleasant room Virginia did not go at once to the kitchen. Instead she took her brother’s powerful glasses and looked long up the mesa trail, hoping to see the little Indian boy reappearing, but he did not come. At last, with a sigh, she turned toward the kitchen and her heart was heavy. “I wonder what message Winona has for me,” she thought. “It must be important or she would not have sent twice.”
CHAPTER XLI—A HOPE RENEWED.
That evening as the three girls sat in front of the wide hearth on which a mesquite root was cheerily burning, they talked quietly together of all that had happened.
“Have you heard lately from your brother, Peyton?” Margaret asked.
Babs shook her head and there were sudden tears in her pretty blue eyes as she replied, “Oh, girls, I try to forget my great disappointment, but of course I must tell you about it. The cards that were sent to me from China, bearing only the initials P. W., were not from my darling brother after all. I had actually forgotten that I had an acquaintance with those same initials. Who do you suppose Megsy, that the cards were from?”
“Patty Warren, perhaps,” Margaret surmised. “Long ago I thought of her, merely because of the initials, but I supposed that she was still in school with you. Had she gone to China?”
“It would seem so,” Barbara replied. “I did know that Patty had left school because her widowed mother had married a minister to some outlandish foreign country, but, though the child was very fond of me, I never thought much about her, partly, because she was younger, and also, because I had you and Betsy Clossen for pals and two intimate friends are as many as I care for, but last week I had a letter from her postmarked London asking me if I had received the truly lovely Chinese kimona that she had sent for my birthday and giving me for the first time, a return address. Of course, I wrote her at once to express my appreciation, but I was heart broken. I cried for hours and hours that night, for I had been so sure that my dear lost brother was keeping in touch with me and somehow, even that little had been a comfort to me. Now, I am convinced that Peyton must be dead. He was so loving and tender-hearted even when he was a little fellow; he wouldn’t let month after month pass if he were alive without assuring me that he still cares for me and that all is well with him.”
“Poor Babs,” Virg said as she reached out, with real sympathy, and placed a comforting hand over the petite one of their friend. “I know how my heart would ache if Malcolm were lost, but don’t give up hope, dear. Such strange things happen in this world.”
“I am going to keep on hoping,” Barbara assured them. Then she added, “I have no way of knowing, of course, but I do believe that the object of my father’s visit to the West is to try to find Peyton. You see, when the epidemic broke out in school, we packed and left that very day, all of us who had not been exposed, and when I reached home father was not expecting me. I quietly entered the house and stood in the open library door. There he was, pacing up and down, an expression of grave anxiety on his face. I knew at once that he was greatly troubled about something, and for the first time since mother died there was a rush of tenderness in my heart for him. He looked so gray and sad and so all alone.
“Father!” I cried as I ran to him. He didn’t seem surprised, someway; he just reached out his arms and held me close.
“‘Little daughter,’ he said, ‘I needed you and you came to me; just as your mother came once, when I needed her—but—she couldn’t stay. If only that other Barbara had lived, all this would not have happened.’”
Then he bent his head down against mine and a hot tear fell on my cheek.
“‘Daddy,’ I said; I hadn’t called him that since I was very little. ‘Daddy, have you been so lonely? why didn’t you send for me sooner?’
“His reply was, ‘I am going West on a very important mission tomorrow, little daughter, so don’t unpack your trunk. I’ll take you with me and you may visit your friends in Arizona.’
“He didn’t tell me what his mission was, but I do know that he bought a ticket for some small town in Texas. He said that he would communicate with me in about a week. Oh, girls,” Babs added with a sob in her voice, “I wish I’d been more loving to my father. I ought to have known that his seeming sternness covered a most lonely heart with mother gone, and his only son wayward, or so daddy supposed.”
Margaret was thinking rapidly. “A town in Texas. Tom had been wrongly accused somewhere down there. Could Tom be Peyton after all and had the father received some word that had led him to believe that he would find his boy?”
“Bedtime, girls,” Virginia said as she arose. “We may need unusual strength tomorrow.”
Megsy sought an early opportunity to be alone with Virginia the next morning and ask her if she thought it possible that Tom might be the missing Peyton, and that the father having received some inkling of the boy’s whereabouts, had come West to search for him.
Virginia looked up eagerly. “I hadn’t thought of it, Megsy,” she said, “but now that you suggest it, I do believe that it might be possible. For myself I do not care who Tom may be, all that I want to know is that he is safe and well somewhere, anywhere. Uncle Tex doesn’t tell us what he really thinks, but I know. I have often heard the cow-boys relate tales of rustlers who came upon a lonely herder, and if they wish to spirit away the sheep, they silence the only man who could witness against them.” Then she added, “Babs is calling, dear. We would better not tell her that we think Tom may be her lost brother, Peyton, for how cruel would be the disappointment were we wrong.”
The morning hours dragged slowly to the girls who were eagerly awaiting the hoped-for reappearance of little Red Feather. “I am sure Winona will send him back,” Virg said many, many times, but he did not come.
In the meantime Lucky had ridden to the Junction to get any mail that might have come on the early morning train, and about noon he returned with several letters for each of the girls. Virg, with an exclamation of eagerness, tore open an envelope addressed in her brother’s familiar handwriting.
“Dear little sister,” she read aloud.
“I know just how eagerly you are awaiting a message from me, but I have been unable to communicate with you before. When I reached the sheep ranch, Mr. Wilson asked me to ride with several Mexicans whom he trusted, up toward the Lost Canyon which is in the roughest and wildest part of the mountains to the north. It is seldom visited by herders as there is practically no vegetation there. However, Lopez Andero, one of the herders who has long been in Mr. Wilson’s employ, stated that after a spring of heavy rains there was, in an almost inaccessible valley in the heart of the mountains, enough grass to last a herd of 500 Merinos for several weeks and that there could not a better place for rustlers to hide the flock. It was twilight when we started, Lopez in the lead. After a long, wearisome ride we reached the entrance to the canyon an hour before daybreak.
“We wished to approach the valley under cover of the darkness so that we might come upon the rustlers without their knowledge, if indeed, they were there, but when at last we reached the summit overlooking the valley, to our great disappointment, in the grey light of the dawning day we saw only a lonely, bowl-shaped hollow, in which, as Lopez had said, grass was luxuriantly growing.
“We then rode back to the home ranch and found several other parties who had also returned with the same discouraging report. No trace of sheep or shepherds had been found.
“Mr. and Mrs. Wilson are greatly depressed, as indeed, are we all. The loss of the sheep, Mr. Wilson assures me, means little to him; he is so eager to find Tom. I am sorry, sister, that I have to write this news, knowing that it will sadden you and Margaret. I had hoped that today I would be able to return to V. M. accompanied by Tom and give you a real surprise, but now I do not expect to be able to do that, at least not soon. Send me a line to Red Riverton today if you can conveniently.