CHAPTER XVI
THE LOST SHEEP
"OH, Carita, do you really have to go to-day?" Genuine regret was inBlue Bonnet's eyes and tone.
Carita sighed.
"Yes, Grandfather expects us back at the farm to-night, and Mothernever disappoints him. He's getting old and she doesn't like to leavehim alone much. We may come up again before the summer isover,--Father has to be here for several weeks yet."
"But we'll be gone,--we're to leave on Wednesday, you know. Did everdays fly so before? I haven't seen half enough of you, Carita."
"You seem to belong to so many people," Carita said rather wistfully,"I've been afraid to claim too much of your time. But there are othersummers. Maybe when you come back from the East next year you can cometo the farm,--it isn't much of a journey on the cars."
Blue Bonnet lost herself a moment in reflection. "When she came backfrom the East"--why, she hadn't even decided that she was going Eastagain--yet.
"And you can come to see me--at the Blue Bonnet ranch," she said.
Carita shook her head.
"Railroad fares are pretty high. We have to be very careful sinceFather lost his health. That's why we came back from India, you know.The doctors said that this climate was best for his trouble, and whenGrandfather offered us a home on the farm we were so glad. ButFather's not having a church--only once in a while when he fills apulpit for a few weeks at a time--keeps us a little short. I reckonyou don't know much about--being short. You have everything you want,don't you?"
"Everybody seems to think that; they forget that I haven't a mother orfather--or any brothers and sisters," Blue Bonnet said very simply.
Carita threw her arms impulsively about her friend and gave her a warmkiss. "How mean of me to forget! I wish you were my sister. Boys don'talways understand. But you have so many people to love you, you can'tever get lonesome. And having lots of money must be so nice, and to goaway to school, and have pretty clothes and go to parties and travel,why--" Carita's breath failed her.
"I ought to be mighty thankful. And I am most of the time," BlueBonnet replied. "But the people who love you always expect a greatdeal of you, and it's very hard to live up to their expectations.Besides, going to school isn't all fun, I can tell you."
"I wouldn't care if it weren't all fun, if I could only go. Fatherteaches me at home, but we have so many interruptions. There aredishes to wash, babies to mind, Grandfather to wait upon, till neitherof us knows whether we're doing arithmetic or grammar." Carita rose."I must hurry back to camp--Mother's packing."
"You never forget what's expected of you, do you?" Blue Bonnet asked,with a mixture of wonder and admiration.
"It wouldn't do for me to forget,--I'm the eldest, you know. Motherdepends on me." Carita spoke as though it were the most natural thingin the world for a fourteen-year-old girl to be "depended upon."
"Nobody ever depends on me--for a very good reason!" Blue Bonnetlaughed. "Somehow it's so much easier for me to forget than toremember. It's the only thing I do with shining success."
"You'll learn to be responsible when you have children of your own,"Carita said as sagely as if she were forty instead of fourteen.
Blue Bonnet's eyes shone.
"I'm going to have a whole dozen!" she declared.
"I wouldn't, if I were you--it would be so hard on the eldest," Caritareminded her.
And Blue Bonnet, noticing the care-worn look in the eyes of her"missionary girl," decided that being the eldest of a big family mighthave its disadvantages.
"Grandmother, I wish there were something I could do for Carita," shesaid later that morning, as she and Mrs. Clyde found themselves alone.
"You have already done a great deal for her," her grandmotherremarked. "Mrs. Judson has told me how much your letters and presentshave meant to Carita."
"But that was so little,--and it was just fun for me. She has all workand no play, and I don't think it's fair."
"Perhaps you can do something for her, later on. But you must becareful how you assume responsibilities, Blue Bonnet. You seem to havetaken upon yourself a great many already."
"What ones?" Blue Bonnet questioned in surprise.
"In the first place--you've me!" Grandmother smiled.
"That's so,--I'm responsible to Aunt Lucinda for you. And whatothers?"
"How about the We are Sevens whom you've brought so far away fromtheir homes? And Alec?"
Blue Bonnet's eyes opened.
"I hadn't thought of them in that way. But I reckon you're right. Andthere's Solomon, too."
Grandmother's mouth twitched. "You must be sure you can do your fullduty by the responsibilities you have before you assume new ones."
Blue Bonnet looked very serious. "Seems to me life has a heap ofcomplications. Now there's Alec,--he's worse than a complication. He'sa downright puzzle."
"Has he said anything more about his trouble?" Mrs. Clyde asked.
"Just hints. But they sound as if he were hiding something pretty bad.Sometimes I wish he would come right out with it, and then again, I'mafraid. If he keeps on looking dark and broody every time theconversation turns on the subject of health, I'm going to write theGeneral about it. I think _that's_ my duty."
"But Alec looks wonderfully well, bigger, broader and better in everyway than when he left Woodford," Mrs. Clyde insisted.
"I know he does. But when I remarked to Knight how well Alec looked,and said I thought he ought to get rid of his foolish notion abouthimself now, Knight looked queer and asked, 'Do you think it a foolishnotion? I think he's dead right.' And Knight's a sensible boy andwouldn't say that unless he thought so."
Mrs. Clyde's eyes reflected Blue Bonnet's look of perplexity. "Haveyou talked with your uncle about him?"
"No. Just after I talked with you Alec asked me not to mention thematter to any one else. That shuts out Uncle Cliff. I'm sorry, for I'msure he'd suggest the right thing. There comes Miguel with the horses.You don't mind our riding a little way with the Judsons do you?They're nearly ready to start."
"No, so long as you are back for lunch," said her grandmother.
The boys had all gone hunting early that morning, and only the girlsof _Poco Tiempo_ were on hand to escort the departing guests. Mrs.Clyde said good-bye to Mrs. Judson with genuine regret, and kissed allthe small Judsons warmly at parting.
The whole family was packed into the two seats of the heavyfarm-wagon, the mother driving with one of the boys beside her; Caritain the back seat holding Joe and, at the same time, keeping a watchfuleye on the two lively youngsters by her side. Bedding and campequipment were heaped high in the wagon-box.
"You look like a picture of 'Crossing the Plains,'" Blue Bonnetexclaimed.
"Play you're the Injuns going to scalp us!" begged Carita's brotherHarry, his big dark eyes shining with eagerness.
Blue Bonnet gave a shrill "Ho, ye ho, ho!" that passed for awar-whoop, and in a minute they were all off, the farm horses ratherstartled at the carryings-on; the small boys wild with excitement; andthe We are Sevens tearing madly down the road "ki-yi-ing" at the topof their voices.
Mrs. Clyde turned with a smile to Dr. Judson, who stood looking ratheramazedly after his departing family. "Blue Bonnet is alternately fiveand fifteen," she remarked.
"She is decidedly refreshing," he returned. "I hope you will try tokeep her a child as long as possible."
"I don't need to try!" she replied with a laugh.
The parting between the "emigrants" and the Indians was not such ashistory records of leave-takings between these sworn enemies. Caritahad to wink hard to keep back the tears when she said good-bye to BlueBonnet, and the little Judsons set up a loud wail when their formerpursuers waved them farewell.
"It's a shame Carita has to go back and slave on that old farm," BlueBonnet declared, as she looked after the little figure holding on tothe baby with one hand and waving her handkerchief in the other.
"It seems selfish of us to be having a whole summer of fun when she'sonly had two or t
hree days," said Sarah.
"Sarah talks as if it's downright wicked for any of us to be having agood time," Kitty retorted. "Maybe you think one of us ought to changeplaces with Carita?" she challenged Sarah.
"Sarah is the only one of us that's unselfish enough to do such athing!" Blue Bonnet exclaimed warmly; and Sarah sent her a gratefulglance.
They were in a part of the country that Blue Bonnet called "the otherside of the hills,"--a land of sheep-ranches, for the most part;rather barren and level, unlike the rolling green prairie of thecattle-country she loved. They could see the Judson's wagon windingits way across the plain, until only a blur of dust marked its coursetowards the horizon.
"Let's hurry," said Blue Bonnet, "I promised Grandmother we'd surelybe back for lunch."
"It isn't your turn to cook, is it?" asked Kitty.
"No,--it's my turn to eat!" And Blue Bonnet, urging Firefly, was offat a lively clip towards camp.
"Please stop, Blue Bonnet," panted Kitty after a few minutes of thissort of going. "I've a dreadful pain in my side."
Blue Bonnet good-naturedly fell back with her, and the rest swept pastthem with a chorus of taunts for being "quitters." Both girls lookedafter Comanche and his rider with something like wonder in their eyes.Sarah was riding like a veteran; it was plain that she and Comancheunderstood each other at last.
"Sarah's coming on, isn't she?" said Kitty.
"Coming?--I think she's arrived!" Blue Bonnet exclaimed.
"She can thank me for picking out Comanche for her," remarked Kitty;she preferred herself to be the object of Blue Bonnet's approbationand could not be roused to much enthusiasm on Sarah's account.
"Considering your motive, Kitty-Kat, I'm not so sure Sarah owes youany gratitude," laughed Blue Bonnet. Suddenly she gave an exclamation."Why, there's a lamb,--I wonder if it's dead."
"Where?" asked Kitty.
Blue Bonnet pointed to a spot some distance off the road, but Kitty'scity-bred eyes could make out nothing. Just then there came a feeblebleat, and in a second Blue Bonnet had slipped from the saddle andhanded the reins to Kitty.
"Hold Firefly a minute, please. That _is_ a lamb!"
Kitty obediently held the unwilling Firefly, while Blue Bonnet hurriedin the direction of the bleat. A moment later she stooped, and whenshe straightened up, there was a small woolly object in her arms.
"It's too little to travel and the mean old mother's gone off withthe flock," Blue Bonnet said, coming up with the deserted baby.
"What are you going to do with it?" demanded Kitty helplessly.
"I'm going to find the flock. It's been driven along here and insidethat fence. I'm going to let down the bars and cross the field. Yousee the little shanty over there?--I believe there must be a shepherdsomewhere about, and I'll give him the lamb. He isn't a very goodshepherd or he'd have been looking out for poor little lambs. Shadyused to herd sheep and he's told me lots about it."
"And what shall I do?" asked Kitty. "I'm afraid to hold Firefly,--henearly pulls me off the saddle."
"Then tie both horses to the bars here and help me with the lamb."
Kitty offered no protest. This was so like Blue Bonnet. It was alwaysa stray dog or a lost baby, or an old woman at the poor-house thatenlisted her ready sympathy; Kitty ran over a long list in her mind.Of course it had to be a lost lamb or a calf in Texas; the wonder wasthere hadn't been more of them.
Hastily tying both ponies to a fence-post with a scrambling knot ofthe reins that would have brought down Blue Bonnet's wrath upon herhapless head, Kitty hastened across the close-cropped meadow. Itseemed to her they trudged miles, taking turns carrying the lamb,before they reached the little shack. A stupid young fellow,half-asleep, lay sprawled in the shade.
"Here's a lamb we found by the road," said Blue Bonnet, proffering herwoolly burden.
Without uttering a word the sleepy youth took the lamb from her; butBlue Bonnet, observing his manner of handling it, saw that he was wisein the ways of sheep, and she was content to leave her charge withhim.
"Flock's over there," he said at length, pointing vaguely with histhumb.
"All right. Come on, Kitty." As they turned away she said in anundertone: "Shady says the herders are alone so much they almostforget how to talk."
"He's evidently forgotten how to say 'thank you,'" Kitty said crossly."Why, Blue Bonnet--where are the horses?"
"You ought to know. Where did you tie them?"
Kitty's startled eyes rested on the post beside the bars. "To thatpost there. Oh, Blue Bonnet, some one must have stolen them!"
"Stolen? Who'd steal them, I'd like to know? This comes, Kitty Clark,of letting you hitch a horse!" Blue Bonnet was straining her eyes fora sight of the runaways.
"This comes, Blue Bonnet Ashe, of following you on every wild-goosechase you choose to lead me!" Cross, tired and out of patience, Kittyflared up in one of her sudden outbursts, and Blue Bonnet took fire atonce.
"If you think I'm going to let a poor creature starve to death ratherthan disturb your comfort, you're much mistaken!" An angry glancepassed between them.
Sarah, the pacifier, was several miles away by this time; and even shewould have felt her resources sorely taxed to meet this emergency.Miles from camp and no horses!
Kitty stalked into the road and started to walk, holding her head highand swinging her arms as though _she_ didn't mind a little matter offive or six miles. Blue Bonnet, with the training of a lifetime,stopped to put up the bars before setting out on the long tramp. Itwas already noon and the sun glared down, unbearably hot. Before shehad gone a mile Blue Bonnet looked about for a mesquite bush, andfinding one sank down in its shade. Kitty kept doggedly on.
"Oh, Kitty!" Blue Bonnet called after her. "I've heard of people whohadn't sense enough to come in out of the rain, and I think it's aheap sillier not to have sense enough to come in out of the sun!"
Kitty wavered; and was lost. Turning back she threw herself besideBlue Bonnet with a groan.
"My feet are one big blister," she moaned, her anger swallowed up inthe anguish of the moment.
"We can't possibly walk," said Blue Bonnet. "And I've an idea. If thatcloud of dust I saw on the road towards camp was Firefly andRowdy--and it probably was--the girls will soon be after us."
And so it proved; except that it was Alec and Knight instead of thegirls who came riding furiously down the road in search of them. WhenAlec heard Blue Bonnet's ranch-call he threw his hat in the air with awhoop of relief.
"We've been looking for your mangled remains all along the way," hedeclared, as they reached the girls. "We had the fright of our liveswhen Firefly and Rowdy came trotting into camp minus their riders."
"You thought we'd been thrown?" Blue Bonnet asked.
"I would have thought so if there had been only one, but it didn'tseem likely that both of you could have come a cropper," Knightreplied.
"Is Grandmother worried?" Blue Bonnet asked hastily.
"She doesn't know. The girls didn't tell her anything except that youand Kitty had loafed along the way. She didn't see the horses. Butwe'd better hurry back."
Each boy had led one of the errant ponies, and now the girls mountedand lost no time in getting back to camp.
"I'm so sorry--" Blue Bonnet began to speak as soon as she came withinsight of her grandmother, "--I didn't mean to be so late."
"I can't quite understand, Blue Bonnet, why you and Kitty could notcome back with the other girls. It is long past noon." Mrs. Clyde hadbeen worried, and required more of an explanation than an apology.Blue Bonnet's tired face and dusty, dishevelled clothes spokeeloquently of adventure.
"I stopped to pick up a lamb,--its mother had gone on with the flockand left it to starve. Shady says lots of sheep don't care about theirchildren. That's why he likes beef-critters best,--cows always makegood mothers. And Kitty and I found the shepherd and gave him the lambto take care of."
The annoyance faded from Grandmother's face and her eyes softened.
Uncle Joe, w
ho had been an interested listener, spoke up--"Say, Honey,why didn't you bring the lamb home?--fresh meat is just what we'vebeen needing."
"Uncle Joe!" Horror rang in Blue Bonnet's voice. "Do you think I'dhave eaten that poor little darling?"
He scratched a puzzled head. "Why seems like I've known you to eatnice young roast lamb, Blue Bonnet."
"That's different," she insisted.
"The only acquaintances Blue Bonnet is willing to have roasted are herfriends!" said Kitty; and Blue Bonnet generously let her have the lastword.