CHAPTER XV
ELIZABETH'S STRANGE CONFESSION
JEAN stayed upstairs, but when Jack came back with the wraps she found Ruth and Jim gone, leaving word that she and Olive were to put Frieda to bed without waiting for her, as she might come back fairly late.
Over in a quiet corner Jack saw Olive and Frieda still with the Harmons. In a moment she meant to join them, but first she must conquer a queer sensation that overmastered her. Jack bit her lips and her eyes clouded. Never before in her life had she known what it was to be overtaken by a premonition; now she felt almost ill, she longed to escape and never set eyes on the Harmons again. With all her soul she longed for Rainbow Lodge and wished they had not rented it to strangers.
But Olive had seen Jack, and Donald was crossing over to ask her to join them. Jack closed her eyes, opened them, shrugged her shoulders and determined to think no more foolishness that evening.
When she reached Elizabeth Harmon's side, the girl caught her hand eagerly and pressed it against her thin, hot cheek. "I have been telling mother I knew none of you were pleased at our coming to the Yellowstone while you were here," she declared pettishly, "and I suppose I will be in the way; but please won't you just say you are glad to have me? I don't care about the others."
"Elizabeth," Mrs. Harmon remonstrated; but Jack leaned over and gently kissed the spoiled girl who had taken such an overwhelming fancy to her. At the same moment a wave of remorse swept over her that she had not at once been happy at her opportunity to add something to Elizabeth's pleasure. How pitiful it was that the young girl so longed to take part in their outdoor amusements, when she was able to walk only a few yards at a time. Suddenly a feeling of thankfulness for her own health and vigor rushed over Jack, and in that moment she determined, while they were thrown together, to devote herself utterly to her new friend; for Jacqueline Ralston possessed many of the traits of character of a brave boy or man. Weakness and a need for her protection made an instant appeal to her. It was her first instinct in caring for Olive and it was responsible for what she afterwards did for Elizabeth Harmon.
"I am truly glad you are here with us, Elizabeth," Jack could now reply honestly. "But haven't you enjoyed your two weeks at Rainbow Lodge, and hasn't it done you good? I felt so sure you would soon grow stronger there, perhaps because I love the ranch so dearly myself, and have been so well and happy there."
Elizabeth shrugged her delicate shoulders until her loose mass of red-gold hair almost covered her face. "Oh, yes, I like the ranch well enough and I suppose I am better," she returned. "But I thought father came west and rented your house so I might be out of doors all the time, and go about wherever I wished, and now I am hardly allowed to get out of sight of the Lodge. As soon as you went away such a queer lot of people turned up at your ranch – a gypsy with his wagon and family. They are camping somewhere on your place, because they are always being seen. One day Don and I saw them near the stump of the old tree where you and Olive made the compact of friendship with us."
Jack opened her lips to speak, and then changed her mind, Olive turned from talking with Donald to stare in amazement, when from the depth of Mrs. Harmon's lap a small voice said sleepily, "I bet you, Jack, Elizabeth is talking about those same gypsies who came to our ranch and told our fortunes. I thought Jim said he would not have them on our place," Frieda ended.
Jack blushed. She too had guessed "Gypsy Joe" must be the intruder, and intended to report the matter to Jim, but she did not wish any discussion of the subject with the Harmons.
"Oh, but gypsies aren't the only queer people who have come to the ranch," Elizabeth continued; "there are other rough looking men whom father spends hours and hours with. He – "
"Elizabeth," Mrs. Harmon interrupted sternly, "how many times have I asked you not to talk of your father's affairs with strangers? He would be extremely angry with you for telling Miss Ralston this nonsense."
"It isn't nonsense, it's the truth and you know it," Elizabeth answered. "I believe father sent us away from Rainbow Lodge at this time because he wanted to get rid of us. And he promised me he would not attend to any business while we were on the ranch. Now two men are coming on from the East to see him, and he is as worried and excited over something as can be and won't tell us what it is."
Mrs. Harmon lifted Frieda from her lap. "Donald, will you please persuade Elizabeth not to bore Miss Ralston with our family history?" she asked.
"Oh, shut up, Elizabeth. Why do you never do as mother asks you?" Donald muttered, and Elizabeth began to cry like a spoiled baby.
Jack, Olive and Frieda kept their eyes on the ground; not being accustomed to family quarrels they felt exceedingly uncomfortable.
"Suppose we say good night, Donald, dear," Mrs. Harmon suggested. "I am sure Elizabeth must be tired. Miss Ralston, I believe my husband has written your overseer of the presence of this gypsy on your ranch. In regard to Mr. Harmon's present worry and excitement, we have not mentioned it to Elizabeth, as we try to keep our annoyances from her; but her father has recently lost a good deal of money in Wall Street, so he is naturally concerned."
"I am sure I am awfully sorry," Jack replied, not knowing exactly what she should say. But five minutes later she and Olive and Frieda breathed a sigh of relief – the Harmon family had finally departed to their rooms and the ranch girls were free to go to bed.
Half an hour later Donald Harmon was still in his mother's room. Elizabeth was fast asleep in the room adjoining.
"Is there any way on earth to make Elizabeth stop talking when she shouldn't, Don?" Mrs. Harmon sighed. "Poor child, she is so difficult! I was wretchedly uncomfortable, not knowing what she might tell to-night."
Donald's handsome face clouded. "She don't know anything, so she can't tell anything," he answered. "I almost wish she did; then the responsibility would be off my conscience. And I know father would forgive Beth anything."
Mrs. Harmon changed color. "Well, he wouldn't forgive you or me, son," she replied. "And, after all, this isn't our affair, and we must not interfere with your father's plan."
Don shook his head, unconvinced by his mother's argument. "I don't know whether you are right or wrong in this, mother," he answered. "It seems to me this time we ought to interfere. By keeping silent and not letting the Ralstons know of our suspicion, we are behaving pretty dishonorably." Donald lifted his shoulders and shook them as though he were trying to shake off the burden of the idea that oppressed him. "Perhaps father's great find will come to nothing and he has been deceived about the whole business," he added hopefully. "For my part I wish things would turn out that way. I don't like to be mixed up in this."
Mrs. Harmon looked worn and older. Before no one but her son did she drop her society mask and show her true self. "Dear," she protested, "remember you and I can bear being poor, but think how dreadful life would be for Elizabeth if we did not have a great deal of money to do for her."
Don sighed. Always he had been expected to sacrifice everything for his sister, and now he was to be asked to sacrifice his honor as well. But he wondered why his mother should talk of their being poor because his father had lost a portion of his money in Wall Street. His mother had a wealthy aunt who had always done everything for them, and he and his sister were supposed to be her only heirs. It wasn't very probable that Aunt Agatha would lose all her fortune or go back on them.
Donald bent to kiss his mother good night. "For goodness' sake, let's don't worry over this scheme of father's until we know it is going to amount to something," he argued. "We do want to have a good time on this trip – the ranch girls are simply great!"
While all this was transpiring, Ruth and Jim Colter were rowing along the northern border of Yellowstone Lake toward a small island known as Pelican Roost. Earlier in the afternoon, on seeing a number of the pelicans floating like a fleet of boats on the face of the water, Ruth had idly suggested that she would like to see them at night, as they must look, roosting on their island, like wicked old ghosts. And Jim had planned then to bring Ruth out for a moonlight row alone.
When he returned to find Ruth waiting on the verandah for him, he had made no explanation of his long absence and, as his face was unusually serious, Ruth had asked no questions. In the hour of his absence the face of the world had changed for Jim Colter! Before going to the hotel clerk for the letters that had been sent him from the Rainbow Ranch, Jim had made up his mind to tell Ruth he loved her to-night, and to try to make her love him in return. The weeks of the caravan trip had ended a fight with himself. Jim had finally decided that a man's past need have nothing more to do with him than an old garment that has been cast aside forever. He would tell Ruth he cared for her and they would begin a new life together. But this was his idea before reading the letters from the Rainbow Ranch.
Jim now rowed on in complete silence, while Ruth idly wondered when he was going to make up his mind to talk and what special thing he could wish to tell her alone. As Jim always took a long time to put his thoughts into words she felt no impatience.
"I had a letter from that Harmon man," Jim remarked abruptly. It was so different a speech from anything she expected him to say that Ruth felt irritated. Wasn't it rather stupid for Jim to have brought her out alone on the lake in the moonlight to talk of the Harmons?
"Did you?" she returned indifferently, slipping her white fingers in the water to see if she could touch one of the yellow water lilies that floated near.
Jim heaved a sigh so deep that Ruth laughed. "I never did want to rent our Lodge to the fellow," he protested bitterly. "I knew nothing but trouble could come from a New York money grabber."
"Why, Mr. Jim, you are unfair," Ruth declared. "You know you were as anxious, after the first, to come on this caravan trip as the rest of us. And we couldn't have come without the Harmon money. I am sorry you haven't enjoyed it."
"I have liked it better than anything I ever did since I was born, Ruth Drew," Jim replied so solemnly that Ruth was frightened into silence. "But I suppose we might have managed it somehow without introducing the plagued Harmon family onto our ranch. What do you think this Harmon man has written me?"
"I am sure I don't know – what?" Ruth asked a little irritably.
"Oh, nothing but a cool offer to buy Rainbow Ranch off our hands at any reasonable figure we choose to sell it for. He says he has gotten so interested in the ranch, and thinks it such a fine place for his daughter and son, that he would be willing to pay what our neighbors might think a fancy sum for the place."
For just a half second Ruth's heart stood still, or felt as though it had. She saw Rainbow Ranch, which had been saved for them once by Frieda's discovery, slipping away again, the girls scattered, herself back in the old Vermont village away from this wonderful western life, and Jim – she wondered what would become of Jim.
Then Ruth came to her senses. "Well, Mr. Jim, I don't see anything so dreadful in Mr. Harmon's offer. I don't wonder he is in love with our ranch, but we don't have to sell it to him because he wants it, do we? Jack would never think of it."
"It isn't all just what Jack wishes, Miss Ruth," Jim answered sadly. "It is because living on the ranch with you and the girls means more than everything else in the world to me, that it kind of sinks into me that we oughtn't to turn Mr. Harmon's offer down without thinking and talking it over. The ranch don't pay such an awful lot these days – just barely enough to keep things going; and maybe the girls ought to have advantages like schools and traveling. You know better than I do, Ruth. Won't you try and help me think this thing out and decide what is best for them?"
For a moment Ruth was silent, knowing in her heart why Jim took Mr. Harmon's offer so seriously. All his own hopes and plans depended on his refusing it. If he were no longer the overseer of the Rainbow Ranch he would have nothing to offer the woman he loved, not even a bare support. The money he had saved for himself in the past years would not keep them six months. Therefore, since Jim Colter's sense of honor was stronger than any selfish desire, he feared that his own wish to turn down Mr. Harmon's offer without wasting a moment's consideration on it was simply because it would serve his own purpose and not because it was best for the ranch girls.
"I don't believe it will be best for the girls to sell the ranch, I don't honestly," Ruth replied. And then under her breath, "I promise you I am not thinking of us."
What Ruth meant by her use of the word "us" Jim did not know. Of course she too might lose her occupation if the girls gave up the ranch. But whatever she meant the word sounded pretty good to him.
"Of course it would do no harm to talk over the proposition from Mr. Harmon with the girls," Ruth added indifferently; "but I am as sure as I ever was of anything in the world just how they will feel about it. Don't let's speak of it now, though, Mr. Jim. Mr. Harmon can't expect you to reply to his letter at once, and we don't want any business to interfere with our first days in wonderland. Was there anything else in Mr. Harmon's letter that annoyed you?"
"Yes – no," Jim answered shortly. "At least Harmon wrote that he had some private business with the fellow who came junketing around in a gypsy cart to our ranch one day, and he presumed I wouldn't mind the man's staying on the place. Can't imagine what Harmon can want of a tramp like 'Gypsy Joe.' He never would have written me about him, I suppose, if he hadn't known the boys at the ranch would tell me as soon as one of them could get up the energy to write." Jim again relapsed into silence. The moon went behind a cloud and the island was hardly visible ahead. Ruth decided that the evening had been a disappointing one. She wondered why the thought of this half-gypsy, half-gentleman tramp should give Jim the blues. She had relieved his mind of the idea that it was his duty for the girls' sake to sell them out of house and home.
"Let's row back to shore, Mr. Jim," Ruth said coldly, in the aloof manner she still knew how to use when things did not please her. "I am getting tired and sleepy, and I don't want the girls to worry about me."
Jim silently turned his boat to shore. After all, perhaps he had been mistaken in the idea that a man can rid himself of his past. If Ruth knew why this fellow, whom she heard spoken of as "Gypsy Joe," could send the cold shivers up and down his spine, would she ever use the tiny word "us" in the tone that she had spoken it a while before?
When Jim and Ruth said good night, instead of feeling a closer bond of affection, they were colder in their manner toward one another than they had been since the hour the caravan first rolled away from the Rainbow Ranch and the days of their good comradeship began.
CHAPTER XVI
"OLD FAITHFUL"
"O Miss Ralston, will you ride horseback with me this morning instead of going over in the coach to see the geysers?" An unfamiliar masculine voice spoke near Jack. She had stolen out of doors early to catch a view of "The Sleeping Giant," one of the natural curiosities of Yellowstone Lake, the perfect outline of a human face turned skyward reflected in one of the pools near the hotel. Jack started and turned to discover Mr. Drummond.
"I brought my own horses to the Yellowstone with me," he continued, "and I am sure you will find riding more agreeable than being bounced around in a rickety coach. I heard your chaperon say last night that you intended to give your own horses and caravan a rest. We can ride near enough the stage for them to look after you."
Jack's eyes sparkled with pleasure, like a child's. "Oh, please, do you really wish me to ride with you?" she asked, only half convinced. "One of the girls I met at the hotel yesterday told me you had the most wonderful horses. But how did you ever guess how I loved to ride?"
Mr. Drummond laughed. Jack's acceptance of his invitation was as frank as a boy's. She made no pretense of caring for Mr. Drummond's society as she did for the chance to ride.
"It is easy enough to guess you can ride or do anything else that belongs to the outdoors," he returned smiling. "So please don't forget to ask your chaperon right away, so I can give my man the order for our horses."
Jack nodded happily. "Oh, I am sure it will be all right," she answered. "I hope you won't think we are very unconventional, but you see we have always lived on a ranch, and perhaps we don't know all the fine social distinctions, just what's right and what's wrong for a girl to do." She laughed cheerfully. Nothing in the wide world interested Jack less than society, and never could she have become such good friends with Peter if she had met him anywhere else than here in the wilderness. Jack had none of the stirrings of sentiment in her, but although she was a young girl and Mr. Drummond a man of wide experience she had a genius for friendship, which he was to find out in an amazingly short time.
An hour later a dozen or more people trooped out of the hotel ready for the day's amusement. It had been arranged that the Harmons and the caravan party should drive over to the most reliable geyser in the Yellowstone Park, "Old Faithful," who pours forth his steaming, scalding water every seventy minutes as regularly as clock work. Fortunately for the ranch girls, Ruth had seen that each one of them owned a second traveling costume, for the outfits in which they left Rainbow Ranch were too dilapidated to put on again. Now they appeared in new khaki costumes, looking as fresh and businesslike as the day they first set out on their journey. Only Jack wore a corduroy riding habit.
Olive and Jack gazed with open admiration at Mrs. Harmon, never having seen a woman so beautifully gowned before. Somehow in her soft, hunter's green broadcloth and close-fitting hat she did suggest Olive – Jack thought, perhaps because she wore Olive's favorite shade of green.
Ralph Merrit had waited to say a final good-by to the caravan party just before the stage rolled away. He had walked over with Jack to where Mr. Drummond and his groom waited with the horses; then he came back, kissed Frieda and shook hands with Olive, Ruth and Jim. Jean was looking everywhere but in his direction.
She held a small book in her hand, and Ruth looked at it curiously. Jean was fond of reading, but she would hardly select the day they were to visit the most famous geyser in the world to pursue her literary tastes. Sticking forth from the pages, quite by accident Ruth saw a spray of pale blue forget-me-nots; they grew everywhere about the park.
"You'll be sure to come to Rainbow Lodge to see us some day, won't you?" Ruth urged cordially. Jim gave Ralph's hand another shake. "We'll count on you," he urged. "You know I told you I never liked a fellow half so well in so short a time."
"Won't you say good-by, Jean, and take back what you said last night?" Ralph asked, half serious and half smiling.
Jean thrust out a book. "I suppose I must," she answered, "as I hate to be cross with people when they are so far away there is no chance to quarrel. I have put a spray of forget-me-nots in this book, so you won't forget us," she ended prettily.
Just before the coach moved off Jack, mounted on a thoroughbred horse, rode up to show herself to her friends with Mr. Drummond following behind her.
In the best seat in the stage, with sofa cushions piled about her, sat Elizabeth Harmon. As she saw Jack an ill-humored expression crossed her face. "I thought we were going to have the drive together. You promised only last night that you would try to make me have a good time, and now first thing next morning you are going off and leaving me," she exclaimed.
Jack turned crimson. She had meant to be good to Elizabeth, but it had never occurred to her to give up her horseback ride on her account.
"I am sorry, Elizabeth," she answered uncomfortably. "Perhaps Mr. Drummond would exchange me for Jean or Olive. I didn't know you cared so much about my driving with you."
Jean and Olive both shook their heads decidedly, and Frieda gazed at Elizabeth in stern disapproval; but Mr. Drummond, who was also accustomed to having his own way, settled the matter. "You'll take the ride with me this morning, Miss Ralston," he announced, "then you can devote yourself to your friend later in the day if you like." And Elizabeth was obliged to be content.
Jack was convinced she had never had such a wonderful ride in her life, never had she felt in such glorious health and spirits. Her horse moved along under her with a gait to which she was entirely unaccustomed. Only shaggy bronchos and rough western ponies had been her mounts until to-day, and now she was on the back of a beautiful Kentucky thoroughbred, riding over a perfect road, very different from the long stretches of sand on the plains. The two riders had galloped on for several miles without a word, Peter keeping a little in the background to enjoy the wonderful grace and ease of Jack's horsemanship.
Suddenly the girl reined in her horse and the man slowed down. "I want to thank you for this glorious ride now while I have the chance," she said simply. "Sometimes I wish I could spend my whole life in the saddle, I love it so. I hope I wasn't selfish in not driving with Elizabeth Harmon. I am so horribly sorry for people who can't ride and walk and swim and enjoy the things I do, I would do nearly anything in the world for them," she ended wistfully. And for a long time afterward Mr. Drummond remembered what Jack had said and her beauty and careless vigor as she spoke, with her hands holding her mare's reins lightly but firmly and her body keeping perfect rhythm with its every movement.
The two riders came to the neighborhood of the great geyser a little in advance of the coaching party. They rode up to within a reasonable distance of the queer, symmetrical, cone-shaped hill. There were a few people waiting about, but the place was quite peaceful and showed no sign of the leaping torrent of water Jack anticipated. She was intending to dismount from her horse when the stage arrived. Suddenly a roar, like a giant's snort, came from beneath the earth and almost instantly steaming water began to rise through the mouth of the cone in glistening, gleaming bubbles, then a giant cataract reared itself. Jack and Peter Drummond had been too surprised at the geyser's sudden display of its powers to get off their horses at once, and Jack's thoroughbred was not trained to endure any such exhibition of the unknown forces of nature. Her whole body quivered as though she had been struck a cruel blow, then, making a leap straight into the air and coming down on her two hind feet, she began to dance and curvet and leap about as though bewitched. Mr. Drummond had a horrified moment of fearing Jack would be dreadfully injured, but he was too engaged in quieting his own horse's terror to give her aid. The coaching party arrived on the scene at this minute and they were torn between interest in the marvelous geyser and concern for Jack's safety.
Jack proved her horsemanship by recognizing that the high-strung animal she was riding required a different treatment from one of her rough ponies. Never once did she use her whip on the pretty mare, but talked to her in a gentle, soothing tone, keeping her nose turned directly toward the roaring stream of water, so that the mare should not bolt and run on hearing extraordinary noises at her back.
In four or five minutes two hundred and fifty thousand gallons of scalding water had been raised one hundred and fifty feet in the air, held for a little time and then dashed down to earth again, and "Old Faithful" was once more peaceful for exactly an hour and ten minutes.
But in this period Jacqueline had brought her horse to a quivering standstill not far from the geyser. Elizabeth Harmon was pale with fright and her eyes were full of tears of apprehension, but Frieda was merely interested in her sister's performance, as she had not the least idea of her being hurt.
In a few seconds after the excitement had passed, Jim Colter leapt out of the stage and walked toward Jack. "Bravo!" he said, as she slid off her mare, handing her reins to Mr. Drummond.
"I beg your pardon, sir," he continued stiffly – Mr. Drummond's citified elegance had irritated him – "I couldn't help feeling some pride in Miss Ralston's cool head. When it comes to a question of nerve, Jack, you certainly have got the right stuff in you," he concluded. And Jack blushed happily, because Jim's praises were rare, not caring half so much that her new friend was even more impressed by her courage than her old one.