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JESSICA TRENT:
Her Life on a Ranch
BY
EVELYN RAYMOND
Author of
"Jessica Trent's Inheritance," "Jessica, the Heiress"
Whitman Publishing Co.
RACINE, WISCONSIN
Copyright, 1902, by Street & Smith
Jessica Trent
Printed in the
United States of America
By
Western Printing & Lithographing Co.
Racine, Wis.
JESSICA TRENT
CHAPTER I
ON THE CANYON TRAIL.
"Hello, there! What in the name of reason is this?"
The horseman's excited cry was echoed by a startled neigh from hisbeast, which wheeled about so suddenly that he nearly precipitated bothhimself and rider into the gulch below.
"Oh! I'm sorry----Hold on, Zu! Go! Do, please. Quick! It's so narrowjust beyond and I can't----"
The stranger obeyed, perforce, for his spirited animal having now headedup the slope, continued on his course at breakneck speed, pursued atequal pace by the unknown creature that had terrified him.
The race would not have been so even had the trail been wider, forKing Zulu could easily have beaten his contestant, but, as it was,the fleeing bay bruised his master's leg against the canyon wall,now and then, while bits of the bird's plumage were torn on the sameprojecting rocks. There was no point of passage till more than a milehigher on the mountain, and Jess knew this if Mr. Hale did not. Heknew nothing save that he was clinging and riding for his life, andthat this "Western horseback tour" which his doctor had prescribedfor him, seemed now more likely to prove his death than his cure.
But when a laugh rang out, close to his shoulder, he turned his head andglanced angrily backward.
"Oh, I beg your pardon, but--it's so funny! I've often wanted to tryKing Zu against a strange horse and now I have. Only, if we were up thereon the mesa, he'd show you!"
"Does this trail never end, nor turn?"
The laughter on the girl's face changed to anxiety.
"Not ill, exactly; only I'm not experienced at this business and itshakes me."
"You ride too hard and stiff. That's why. Let yourself go--just be partof your horse. He's a beauty, isn't he? Even the boys couldn't standthat gait."
"And you. Who taught you to ride an ostrich? Where did you get it?It's almost the first one I ever saw and quite the first that Princedid. I was nearly as scared as he, meeting such a creature on a lonelymountain trail."
"I never learned--it just happened. Zulu is 'patriarch' of the flock.The only imported bird left alive. We just grew up together, he and I.Didn't we, King?"
Speech was now easier, for the speed of both animals had slackened, thatof Prince to a comfortable trot. While the sidewise lurching motionof the ostrich was enjoyable enough to Jessica, it turned Mr. Hale'shead dizzy, watching. Or it may have been the blinding sunshine, beatingagainst the canyon wall and deflected upon the riders in waves of heat.
"Whew! This is scorching. How far, yet?"
Jessica saw that what she minded not at all was turning the strangersick, and answered swiftly:
"You wouldn't be able to get further than 'five times' before wereach the turn. There'll be a glorious breeze then. There always is."
"What do you mean by 'five times'?"
"Why, just the multiplication table. I always say it when I'vesomething I want to get over quick. You begin at one-times-one, and seeif it isn't so."
"What shall we find at the top; your home?"
"Oh, no, indeed. That is quite the other way. Down in the valley.Sobrante ranch. That's ours. Were you going there?"
"I was going--anywhere. I had lost my way. 'Missed the trail,' as yousay in this country."
"I thought, maybe, you were just a 'tourist.'"
Mr. Hale laughed, and the laugh helped him to forget his presentdiscomfort.
"Perhaps I am, even if you do speak so disdainfully. Are all'tourists' objectionable?"
Jessica's brown cheek flushed. She felt she had said somethingrude--she, whose ambition it was to be always and everywhere "OurLady Jess," that the dear "boys" called her. But she remembered howannoyed her mother was by the visits of strangers who seemed to regardSobrante and its belongings as a "show" arranged for their specialbenefit.
"We--we are generally glad when the rains come," she answered,evasively.
"To keep them away? Yet if, as I suspect, you have an ostrich farm, Ican't blame their curiosity. I'm hoping to visit one, myself."
"Ours is not a real 'farm.' It is just one of the many things ourranch is good for. But I know my mother would make you very welcome.You--but there! Look down, please. Yonder it is, Sobrante. That means'richness,' you know. And now up. The next turn will land us on themesa, and I hope, I hope, I have come in time!"
The road had now broadened, and with a little chirrup to King Zulu, shepassed and forged ahead so rapidly that she was soon out of sight. Thegreat bird upon whose back she was perched was not, apparently, at allwearied, but poor Prince was utterly winded, while a curious feeling ofloneliness stole upon his rider.
But, presently, the sound of voices came over the bluff, and Mr. Haleurged his tired beast forward. The next he knew he was sprawling on theplateau and his horse had fallen beside him. Prince's forefoot was ina hole, from which he was unable to withdraw it.
"Oh! oh! The poor creature! And you, sir, are you hurt?"
"No, I think not. Rather a shake-up, though, and I was dizzy with theheat before. Prince, Prince, lie still; we'll help you."
One glance had showed the stranger that they were near a shepherd's hut,and that its occupant was at home. The man had been sitting quietly inthe shade of the little building and of the one pepper tree which grewbeside its threshold. He did not move, even now, till the girl calledimpatiently:
"Pedro! Come! Quick!"
Then he arose in a leisurely fashion and, carefully depositing his osiersin a tub of water, came forward.
"So? He can't get up, yes? A wise man looks where he rides, indeed."
Despite his anxiety over Prince, Mr. Hale regarded the shepherd withamused curiosity. Pedro's swarthy face was as unmoved as if the visitsof strangers with disabled horses were daily events; but the man'scalmness did not prevent his usefulness. In fact, during every stepof his deliberate advance he had been studying the situation and howbest to aid the fallen animal, which had now ceased to struggle and laygazing at his master with a dumb, pitiful appeal.
Then Pedro bent forward and, with a strength amazing in a man of hissmall build, seized Prince's head and shoulder and with one prodigiouswrench freed him from the pitfall. Then he stooped again and carefullyexamined the bruised forefoot.
"A moon and a half he'll go lame. Yes. For just so long let him be leftwith Pedro. Si?"
Then he led the limping beast toward the hut and began to bathe itsinjured ankle with the water from the tub.
"Marvelous! I never saw anything done as easily as that!" cried Mr.Hale, recovering from his astonishment.
"Ah; but you've never seen our Pedro before. And to think I was soangry with him, I!"
With a remorseful impulse Jessica sprang forward and threw her arms aboutthe old shepherd's shoulders. He received her caress as calmly as hedid everything else, though a keen observer might have seen a fleetingsmile around his rugged lips.
Smiles did, indeed, spring to all three faces when, a moment later, therattling of tins discovered Zulu rummaging a heap of empty cans, evenin the very act of swallowing a highly decorated one.
&
nbsp; The jingling startled Prince, also, from the repose into which he hadnow settled, and, after one terrified glance toward his unknown enemy,King Zu, he dashed across the mesa as if lameness were unknown.
At which Pedro smiled, well content.
"Good. He that uses his own legs spares his neighbors. Yes."
"Meaning that he would have to be exercised by somebody?"
The shepherd did not answer. He had lived alone so long amid the greatsolitudes of nature that speech had grown irksome to him. He regardedit a sin to waste words, and his young mistress understood this, if Mr.Hale did not. To this gentleman the situation presented itself as a veryserious one. There was no habitation visible save the small hut, a placebarely sufficient to its owner's simple needs and utterly inadequateto those of a lately recovered invalid. He was not strong enough tomake his way to the valley on foot, and even if Prince were now able tocarry him, he felt it would be brutal to impose so hard a task.
But Jessica came to his aid with the suggestion:
"If you'll come and rest behind the cabin I'll make you a cup ofcoffee on Pedro's little stove. He often lets me when I come up to seehim, and then, when you've rested, we'll go home. I am so angry Ican hardly breathe."
"Indeed; I should never have guessed it," he answered, laughing, andallowing the girl to lead him to the shelter proposed.
"Ah! but I am. And a gentlewoman never gets angry. Least of all withsuch a darling as Pedro. You see, he ought to have been about dying, andhe hasn't even a single ache!"
"What an odd child you are!"
"Am I?" regarding him gravely. "I'm sure I don't want to be that.I want to be just--perfect."
Mr. Hale sighed as he dropped upon the bench to which Jess had guidedhim. "We are none of us that--ever."
"I suppose that's because 'none of us' ever try quite hard enough.But I will be, if trying will fetch it."
Then she whisked inside the hut and presently there came to thegentleman's nostrils the aroma of freshly steaming coffee. He had notrealized that he was hungry, but now could scarcely wait until thelittle maid came out to him again with a tin cup of the liquid in onehand and a can of condensed milk in the other.
"My mother always lets her guests 'trim' their drink for themselves,but I'll drop in the cream if you'll say how much. Enough? Now sugar.One? How queer. And it's sugar of our own making, too; beet sugar, youknow."
The tin cup was decidedly rusty, the cheap spoon dingy, and "canned"milk the aversion of Mr. Hale's dyspeptic stomach; yet despite thesefacts he had never tasted a more delicious draught than this, nor oneserved with a gentler grace. For Jessica was quite unconscious that therewas anything amiss with Pedro's dishes, and now offered the strangera tin of time-hardened biscuits, with the air of one proffering therarest of dainties.
"You would better eat one of these; they're quite fine, with thecoffee."
"I'll--I'll try, thank you, if you'll fetch your own cup and sitbeside me."
"All right. Only I'll have to wait till Pedro's finished. There'sonly this and the egg, you know. He's rather stubborn, dear fellow. Mymother has offered him more dishes, but he says 'more care' and won'ttake them. Excuse me."
With a dip and swirl of her short skirts, the little hostess ran into thehut, to reappear, a moment later, bearing in both hands a drinking-cupwhich made the guest exclaim in delight:
"What an exquisite thing!"
"Isn't it? But just wait until you see those which Pedro made formother! This is fine, but they're like cobwebs."
She did not offer to show him the cup more closely, for she had seenthe shepherd lay down his rushes and sit waiting, and Jessica would notdisappoint the old friend for the new. Still the less, because she had solately been vexed with him, and wholly without cause.
But when the silent fellow had emptied the cup she proudly gave it forMr. Hale's inspection.
"An ostrich egg, you see, cut off at the top. Pedro wove all thislacelike outside, of just the common tule rushes. He splits them tillthey are like threads, and see that handle! Nothing could break it,nor can one tell just where it begins or ends--the joinings, I mean.There are many wonderful weavers among the Indians, but none so deft asour Pedro, my mother says.
"Now, will you not fill this again and drink it with me? For I see thatour speechless friend, yonder, has gone to work again as if his lifedepended on his industry."
"He's always at work, like that. Yet he never neglects his flock. Hehas been herding ever since he was a little boy. That must have beenyears ago. He's so very old."
"He doesn't look it. I should guess he might be fifty."
"Fifty! Why, there's nobody anywhere around who remembers when ourPedro was born. Not even Fra Mateo at the mission, yet even he is morethan a hundred," she answered, proudly.
"Possible? Well, this is all wonderful to me who have lived always ina crowded city. This big West is like a romance, a fairy tale; not theleast of its marvels to find a little girl like you riding alone on sucha steed up such a desolate canyon, yet not in the least afraid."
"Why, why should I be afraid? Except, of course, I was, for a bit, whenI saw that Zulu made your horse rear. A step nearer and you'd have bothgone over."
Mr. Hale shuddered, and Jessica hastened to add:
"But the step wasn't taken and you're quite safe up here. Is thedizziness all gone? Many are like that before they get used to the glare.Some of the 'tourists' wear blue glasses, and veils, and things. Theylook so funny."
Into her laughter burst Pedro's speech.
"'Ware Antonio. Is it plucking day, no? His third hand is Ferd, wholies and steals. I know. The mistress' chest has many openings. _Nina_,go home, and bid Antonio come himself when next he'd have me die. Yes."
Jessica sprang to her feet. These were many words for the shepherdto utter, and was not to be disobeyed. Though the old man's age wasdoubtless far less than was accredited him, he was commonly considereda sage whose intelligence increased, rather than diminished, with thepassing years.
"I'll go at once, Pedro. Please forget that I was angry and--good-by."
Mr. Hale was unprepared for this sudden departure, which bereft the sceneof its fairest feature; for even while he listened to the brief speechbetween this odd pair there was a flash of twinkling feet and a scarletTam, and Jessica was gone.
"Why--why--what? Eh, what?" he demanded, rising.
His answer came with a crash and clatter which could never have been madeby one small, fleeing figure, and with the startling force with whicheverything happened on that eventful day.
Over the bluff scrambled a shaggy piebald burro, from whose back theretumbled at the stranger's very feet a brace of little lads, securelylashed together; even their wrists and ankles bound beyond possibilityof their own undoing.
"Horrors! Indian captives!" cried the gentleman, aghast.