Aunt Jane's Nieces on the Ranch

“Or what, dear?” as imaginative Patsy hesitated, appalled by her own mental suggestion.

“Or in a fit of anger Inez murdered Mildred and hid her body. Then, to escape the penalty of her crime, she ran away and took baby with her. Either one of these suppositions would account for the absence of both nurses.”

Beth looked at her cousin in amazement.

“I think,” said she, “you’d better go and get something to eat; or a cup of tea, at least. This excitement is – is – making you daffy, Patsy dear.”

“Pah! Food would disgust me. And I’m not crazy, Beth. Dreadful things happen in this world, at times, and Louise has a queer lot of people around her. Think a moment. Our baby has disappeared. Her two nurses, neither of whom are especially trustworthy, have also disappeared. There’s a reason, Beth, and you may be sure it’s not any common, ordinary reason, either. I’m trying to be logical in my deductions and to face the facts sensibly.”

“Inez would be as careful of baby’s welfare as would Mildred.”

“I realize that. If I thought for a moment that baby was in any peril I would go distracted, and scream louder than poor Louise is doing. Do you hear her? Isn’t it awful?”

“Let us tell Louise these things,” said Beth, rising from her chair. “What you call your ‘deductions’ are terribly tragic, Patsy, but they reassure us about baby. Shall we go to Louise?”

“I think it will be better,” decided Patsy, and they left the nursery and stepped out into the court. At the far end of the open space stood huddled a group of men, all of whom bore lanterns. Patsy advanced to the group and discovered them to be the Mexican laborers from the quarters. Old Miguel advanced a pace and bowed.

“We search for baby – for Mees Jane – eh?” he said, questioningly, as if desiring instructions.

“That is a happy thought, Miguel,” replied the girl. “The others are scouring the roads in their motor cars, but the country needs searching, too – away from the roads, in the fields and orchards. Send your men out at once, and scatter them in all directions.”

Miguel turned and rapidly harangued his followers in the Spanish patois. One by one they turned and vanished into the night. Only the old man remained.

“Ever’bod’ love Mees Jane,” he said simply. “They all want to find her, an’ ask me to let ’em go. Good. They will search well.”

In spite of the words there was a tone of indifference in Miguel’s voice that attracted the girl’s notice. He did not seem in the least worried or agitated, nor did he appear to attach much importance to the search. Yet Patsy knew the aged foreman was one of “Mees Jane’s” most devoted admirers.

“Where do you think baby is?” she asked abruptly.

“Quien sabe?” he answered, and then in English, “who knows?”

“Be sensible, Miguel! No one would hurt the dear child, I’m sure.”

His dark features wrinkled in an engaging smile.

“No one would hurt Mees Jane. I believe it.”

“But some one has carried her away.”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Some time she come back,” said he.

“Now, see here, Miguel; you know more than anyone else about this affair. Tell me the truth.”

He raised his brows, shaking his head.

“I know nothing,” said he. “I not worry much; but I know nothing.”

“Then you suspect.”

The old man regarded her curiously; almost suspiciously, Patsy thought.

“What ees suspec’?” he asked. “It ees nothing. To suspec’ ees not to know. Not to know ees – nothing at all.”

The girl stamped her foot impatiently, for she caught Beth smiling at her.

“What is Inez to you, Miguel?” she demanded.

Again he smiled the childlike, engaging smile.

“She ees to me nothing,” said he. “Inez is Mexican, but her family ees not my family. Not all Mexicans ees – re – spec’ – ble. Once I know Inez’ father. He drink too much wheesky, an’ the wheesky make heem bad.”

“But you like Inez?”

“She ees good to Mees Jane; but – she have bad tempers.”

Patsy thought a moment.

“Did you know Mildred Travers when she used to live near here?” she asked.

Old Miguel started and took a step forward.

“Where she leeve, when she ees here?” he asked eagerly.

“I don’t know. Have you ever seen her?”

“No. She do not come to our quarters.”

“Wait a minute,” said Patsy, and ran up to her room, leaving Beth to confront the ranchero and to study him with her dark, clear eyes. But she said nothing until her cousin returned and thrust a small kodak print into Miguel’s hand.

“That is Mildred Travers,” said Patsy.

Miguel held up his lantern while he examined the picture and both girls observed that his hand trembled. For a long time he remained bent over the print – an unnecessarily long time, indeed – but when he raised his head his face was impassive as a mask.

“I do not know Mees Travers,” was all he said as he handed back the picture. “Now I go an’ hunt for Mees Jane,” he quickly added.

They watched him turn and noticed that his steps, as he left the court, were tottering and feeble.

“He lied,” said Beth, softly.

“I am sure of it,” agreed Patsy; “but that does not enlighten the mystery any. I’m sorry we brought Mildred to this place. There’s just one thing you can bank on, Beth: that in some way or other Mildred is responsible for the disappearance of our precious Toodlums.”

CHAPTER IX – A FRUITLESS SEARCH

Meantime, Uncle John and big Runyon were bowling along the north road, the lights gleaming from the powerful lanterns of the car and illuminating every object on either side of the way. The road seemed deserted and it was fully twenty minutes before they came to the first ranch house beyond that owned by Runyon himself. Here Mr. Merrick got out to make inquiries.

A tall, slovenly dressed woman answered his ring. She carried an oil lamp in her hand and eyed her late visitor severely.