Aunt Jane's Nieces on the Ranch

Scarcely a word was spoken as the investigation proceeded. Beth had clasped one of Mildred’s hands and Patsy the other, but neither dared look in the poor girl’s face, for they dreaded the poignant disappointment sure to reign there.

But after the first shock, Mildred bore up bravely. She had not expected, in the beginning, any tangible result; still it was very bitter to find her long sought fortune and realize that it amounted to nothing.

They sat around upon the benches, or leaning against the wall, and stared at the ruined laces with various emotions, the keenest being regret for the loss of so much beautiful handwork and sympathy for Mildred Leighton.

Suddenly Runyon broke the silence.

“This discovery is too thundering bad for mere words,” he said with feeling; “but Miss Travers – Mildred – must know we’re all as sorry as she is. She was right about the laces, but the laces are all wrong. This sad exhibit reminds me of my own perverse mortgages, and my mortgages remind me of something else. Mildred,” he added, turning to the girl in a dogged and rather shamefaced way, “I’m going to hold a private conversation with you right here before our good friends, for I know every one of them will back me up. Eh?” he questioned, glancing around the group.

There were some smiles, but many nods. As if encouraged, Runyon proceeded:

“This settles the question of your fortune. It’s gone – vanished into scraps. You’re a poor girl, now, with no glittering prospects, so what I’m going to say won’t seem quite so selfish as it would otherwise. In fact, had these laces been perfect, they would have rendered me dumb. As it is, here stand two impecunious ones – you and I. Between us we haven’t much more than enough to fry a fish, in solid cash, but among my encumbrances are a delightful little bungalow, nicely furnished, and a lot of lemon trees that can be coaxed to buy us groceries and ordinary comforts. I’m a lonely fellow, Mildred, and I need a companion. Will you marry me, and look after that bungalow?”

This extraordinary proposal was heard in breathless silence. The men were astounded, the girls delighted. Every eye turned curiously upon Mildred Travers, who regarded the big rancher with frank wonder, a wan smile upon her pallid features.

“You do not say you love me,” she suggested, striving through mild banter to cover her confusion.

“Well, isn’t that implied?” he answered. “No one would propose to a girl he didn’t love, would he?”

“You have only known me two days.”

“Two days and seven hours. But mother endorsed you and I’ll bank on her judgment.”

“When the mortgages come due, there won’t be any bungalow,” she continued.

“Don’t you believe it,” cried Runyon, earnestly. “With you to work for, I’ll make those tart old lemons pay the interest and a good income besides. In fact, if we live long enough, we may even manage to reduce the mortgages. You see, I’ve been extravagant and foolish, but it was because I had no aim in life. The minute you say ‘yes,’ I’m a reformed character.”

She shook her head and the smile faded from her face.

“Don’t think me ungrateful, Mr. Runyon,” she said quietly. “Unusual and – and – peculiar – as this proposal is, I believe you are sincere in what you say. But you are influenced just now by pity for me and I assure you I am quite capable of earning my own living.”

“But – oh, Mildred – he’s so lonely,” cried Patsy, impulsively.

“I’m sorry for that,” she said, “but it is not my fault.”

“It will be, though, if you refuse,” declared Runyon.

“I fear I must.”

“I see,” he said with a sigh. “Mother endorsed you, but she didn’t endorse me. You’ve heard some tough yarns about me – all true as gospel – and you’re prejudiced. I don’t know as I blame you. If I were a girl I’d hesitate to reform such a desperate character, I’m sure. But I’ve the notion there’s the making of a decent fellow in me, if the right workman undertakes the job.”

She looked at him earnestly, now – very earnestly. In spite of the squeaky voice and the inopportune time he had chosen for such a serious proposal, there was an innate manliness and ingenuousness in his attitude, as he stood there unabashed and towering above the other men, that seemed to her admirable and impressive. Both Beth and Patsy were reflecting that a girl might do much worse than to accept Bulwer Runyon as a mate.

Said Mildred, still speaking in the same quiet and composed voice:

“I will give you a positive answer in three days, Mr. Runyon. That delay is mere justice to us both.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Shall we fuss with these tattered laces any longer? It hardly seems worth while.”

Now that the strain of the situation was removed they all began chattering volubly in order to give countenance to Mildred. Runyon seemed not to need such consideration.

Old Miguel had witnessed and overheard this scene from the background and his bright black eyes had roamed restlessly from the girl’s face to Runyon’s as if trying to read their true feelings. The discovery of the laces had not drawn any exclamation from the ancient ranchero, whose stolid expression nothing seemed able to disturb. As the others filed down the stairs and out of the recess in the wall, into the roomy nursery, old Miguel followed imperturbable and serene as ever. In the court he touched his hat to his master.

“I go now, Meest Weld?” he asked.

“Yes. Thank you, Miguel, for your help.”

“I thank you, too,” said Mildred, stepping forward to take the Mexican’s hand. “I remember you well, Miguel. In the old days you often took care of me while my father and Señor Cristoval talked. Don’t you remember?”

He nodded, his eyes fixed full upon her face.

“Once a friend, always a friend, Miguel,” she continued brightly. “Even to-day you have been trying to help me, and I am grateful. Some time we will have a good talk together about the old days.”

Then he went away, and if one who knew old Miguel Zaloa could have followed him, his actions would have caused surprise.

First he wandered deep into the orange groves, where – when absolutely alone – he began muttering excitedly. At times he would kick his booted foot viciously against a tree-trunk, regardless of the impact that numbed his toes and sent a tingle up his legs. After a time this remarkable exhibit of passion subsided and for the period of half an hour he stood quite motionless, staring straight before him and seeing nothing. Then he started off through the groves, climbed the fence into the lane and marched away through miles and miles of the surrounding country.

It was growing dark when Miguel at last appeared at the quarters, growling at the men and ordering them to get into the groves and work. They marked his ill temper and took care not to arouse his further anger. In the morning he was up at daybreak and in more gentle mood directed the beginning of the day’s labors.

CHAPTER XXII – FAITHFUL AND TRUE

Late that afternoon Arthur and Louise sat in the court, chatting with their guests, who were occupied in coddling and amusing baby Jane, when Inez approached Mr. Weldon and said that Miguel wished to speak with him.

“Send him here,” said Arthur, and presently the old Mexican appeared, again arrayed in his best clothes and with the red necktie carefully arranged. He held his hat in his hand and looked uncertainly around the circle. Then his eyes wandered to the nursery and through the open door he saw Mildred sitting in a rocker, engaged in reading a book. Runyon had gone home that morning, “to see if the ranch is still there,” he said.

“I have – some – private talks to make, Meest Weld,” began the old ranchero.

“Speak out, Miguel,” said his master encouragingly.

“Oh; but he said ‘private,’” Patsy reminded him.

“I know. Miguel understands that he may speak before my friends.”

“It ees – about – Señor Cristoval, Meest Weld.”

“Yes? Well, what about him, Miguel?”

“I am once servant for Señor Cristoval. I stay here in house with him, long time. When he get sick, before he die, I care for him. Doctor say to me that Señor Cristoval can not get well; I say so to Señor Cristoval. He say never mind, he have live long enough.”

This was interesting to them all in view of the recent happenings, and the girls bent nearer to hear the old man’s story. Arthur, the major and Uncle John were equally intent.

“Señor Cristoval, he say, when he get very bad, there ees one thing he hate to leave, an’ that ees – his money,” continued Miguel. “He say, money ees his bes’ friend, all time. But he no can take money where he will go. He ees mad that many poor fools will spend the money he have love an’ cared for. So he make me take three big bag of gold an’ drive to bank an’ put away so the poor fools will find it. Much more money ees in bank, too. Then, when doctor come, he ask me when he will die, an’ doctor say when sun next shine Señor Cristoval will not see it. Doctor want to stay all night, but Señor Cristoval pay an’ tell him go. He want to die alone.

“But I am there. Some time in night Señor Cristoval he call an’ say: ‘Miguel, I mus’ not die till I have give to Leighton what belong to him. I have keep Leighton’s money for him. I will show you where it ees hid, so you can give it to Leighton.’”

Ah, they were intent enough now. Intuitively each listener seemed to know that a secret was about to be revealed and many glances were cast toward the unconscious Mildred, who continued to read placidly. But no one interrupted the old Mexican.

“I help Senor Cristoval to stand up. He ees not strong, so I hold him. He walk from blue room to back room an’ there he show me how to take block from wall. Behind block ees big place for money. Señor Cristoval he say all money what belong to Leighton ees there. He tell me count it. So I put Señor Cristoval in chair an’ he watch while I take out money an’ count. There ees four bag. I count three bag an’ he say good, it ees right. He say count last bag. So I empty bag on floor an’ count gold an’ put in bag again. When thees ees done I say: ‘Is eet right?’ But Señor Cristoval say nothing. I look up, an’ Señor Cristoval ees dead.”