Dorothy on a Ranch

It was a belated household which struggled out of heavy slumber the next day, and as Dorothy lazily yawned and stretched her arms above her head it seemed as if all the exciting events of the night must be part of her dreams. Alfy woke, too, as reluctantly as her mate and just as Helena appeared from her own room, looking a little heavy-eyed but fully dressed. She bade them good morning, but waited for no response before she added:

“The house seems unusually still, and I don’t smell coffee. I generally do, the first thing. I sometimes think it’s the odor of that wakes me. I wonder if Wun Sing’s fright and his worry about his poor hen has made him ill! I’ll go and see; and if the boys aren’t up I’ll call them.”

The lads answered sleepily to Helena’s summons, yet were not long in appearing on the porch, where the other girls promptly joined them. As if by common consent nobody mentioned the escapade of the night, though it was in the minds of all and all were really longing to discuss it. The boys because they wished to “explain,” and the girls thinking that to treat the “joke” with silent contempt would be their severest punishment. Nobody even mentioned unlucky Mateo, who had lent himself to the furtherance of the affair, only to be the one to suffer most from it.

“Hmm. Isn’t it past breakfast time?” asked Monty, at last.

Herbert looked at his watch, and exclaimed:

“Ten minutes to nine! Who’d have believed it? Horses to be groomed before drill, and time up already. I wonder – But here’s Nell. She’s coming from the kitchen and looks important. What’s up, Sis?”

“Several things. First, the hen of Wun Sing lies dead in her coop.”

“O-oh!” “Ah!” “Unwise, ambitious hen!” were the exclamations which responded; and Molly added:

“That isn’t all. There’s something worse on Helena’s mind than the death of a bewitched hen! Out with it, child! After – I mean – my nerves won’t stand any more.”

“Didn’t know you had nerves,” laughed Alfy. “What’s happened, Helena?”

“Wun Sing has disappeared.”

“W-h-a-t?”

“It is true. He has gone, nobody knows where. There’s a man from the Barracks, the one who does the cooking over there, getting breakfast. Captain Lem is flying around in a terrible state of mind. He’s angry with you boys, says there’ll be neither drill nor rifle practice to-day, but the horses must be groomed just as soon as we get our breakfasts. He’s sent a half-dozen men looking for the cook, now, and they expect to find him soon.”

“So they did Jim! Seems if there wasn’t anything doing on this ranch but just getting lost,” wailed Alfaretta, turning a little pale; while Molly nervously begged:

“Somebody tie me fast! Tie me fast! It’ll break my father’s heart if I get lost, too!”

Captain Lem came up at that moment. He looked so stern and unlike himself that the young folks were all of them awed by his manner. Even light hearted Monty slunk back, “shaking in his shoes,” while Leslie dropped his eyes and lost all his bravado.

“Hark to me, Squad! Every mortal son an’ gal of ye! I’m riled – I’m mad. Here am I left in charge, so to speak, of your doin’s, and of the work on the ranch, anyways. Your smart-aleck work has turned everything topsy-turvy. Men took from their reg’lar jobs to go hunt worthless Chinamen, and take his place a-cookin’. Hens dyin’ to right an’ left – pizened by some your doses, likely – ”

“Oh, no! Captain, I’m sure nobody would do such a cruel thing as poison helpless creatures!” protested Dorothy, running to clasp his hand.

He had on his “specs,” which they had already learned he used mostly when he was angry, and they were very glittering just then. But Dorothy would not be put aside. She clung to him till his mood softened and removing the menacing “specs,” dropped them in his blouse pocket. Then he smiled upon her, rather shamefacedly, though he felt that he still had good cause for offence.

“Well, Little One, you’ve got ways to win a feller, ’spite of himself. If they was all as good as you – ”

“Oh! they are, and even lots better! ’Twas just lads’ foolishness that they mistook for smartness. And they, we, all of us will do all we can to help. Where can we look for Wunny? He’s the first one to be thought of. And I’m sorry he was so scared. Also, he’ll be sorry himself over the poor hen. What can I do?”

“Go along an’ eat what breakfast you can get. Then tend to your horses. Likely, they’re hungrier ’n you are and I’ll go see ’t they’re fed. But hear me! Not another mite o’ foolin’ with serious things till Dan Ford gets back an’ takes the reins into his own hands. ’Twas the mercy of Providence – nothin’ else – that that jabberin’ shallow-pate Mateo wasn’t killed plumb out. Silent Pete’s used to grizzlies. He’s used to killin’ ’em. It’s his trade, a deal more ’n ’tis to tend horseflesh. I wouldn’t like to stand as nigh hand to his gun as that Greaser did last night. Now, hurry up and eat. Then report for duty. I’m off to mine.”

“Where do you suppose Wun Sing is?” asked Helena, of anybody who chose to answer.

Nobody did: it may be stated right here that he was never again seen at San Leon. The “bewitched dead fowl” was duly buried in her own courtyard, the little gate to this locked, and its key hung up in the cook’s wall-cupboard. But Wun Sing came no more. Everything belonging to him was left as if he meant to return at any minute, but he did not come.

They searched the pebbly bottom of the lake, thinking he might have drowned himself in his superstitious fear, but he was not there: and after days had been wasted in the fruitless search, Captain Lem had his belongings packed together and sent to his relative, Der Doo, in San Diego. Whence, at the very end of the summer word came back that he had reappeared in that city, a wreck of himself, but it was hoped that with time and good Chinese cooking he would recover his scattered wits and his own culinary skill.

Meanwhile, many messages came from the travellers in the east. The expected old aunt had duly arrived but in no fit condition to travel further for the present. Gray Lady sent dearest love and hoped all her big, new family would find San Leon the happiest place in the world, and the most peaceful. She had lived long enough to understand that peace and harmony were the most precious things in life. She longed to be with them and would be as soon as it was right. Meanwhile, let all be patient as possible over her enforced absence and just feel that she was with them in spirit all the time.

“Odd, isn’t it? That she who so longed to have this home and so enjoyed it should have to leave it to us, a lot of strange youngsters, to use instead?” said Helena, one evening some time later, as they all had gathered about the fountain in the soft sunset light, to talk over happenings and plan things for the coming day.

Since the escapade of the false bear hunt there had been a notable absence of pranks. An ominous peace had settled over the whole young company, remarked by the astute Captain Lem as the “‘ca’m before a storm.’ ’Tain’t in natur’ for ’em to be so demure an’ tractable. No siree. They’ve ‘tended to their groomin’ like reg’lar saints, an’ they’ve learned to drill amazin’ well. They don’t shoot none to hurt, yet, ’ceptin’ that Leslie himself. Sence he’s waked up an’ took an interest he’s done fine. He’s the best o’ the lot and his knowin’ that is what inspires him to do better yet. That, an’ hopin’ to please the Boss. But – I hope the storm’ll blow over – the one they’re brewin’. And I wonder what in creation ever did become o’ that first boy, or of Wunny.”

For as yet no news had come of the latter and the former had almost dropped out of thought – save now and then in Alfy’s, and always in faithful Dorothy’s.

Now that they were better riders and had become what their teacher called “pals” with their horses, they were daily given larger liberty. In company with him, and sometimes without him, they rode long distances over the roads, the narrow trails, and the almost imperceptible paths which led over the mountains and through the forests.

The wild flowers of Colorado are innumerable, almost, and most of them were new to Dorothy, the flower-lover. In search of these she was tireless and many hours were spent after her return from her rides, in pressing her “specimens” and preparing herbariums. In this delightful work she had the company and help of Dr. Jones, himself a well-read and enthusiastic botanist.

Helena spent hours over her journal: “taking notes” for future literary labors. Alfy and Molly were content to do nothing save be happy. As Alfy expressed it:

“I never was so lazy and I likely never will have a chance to be again. I can work when I have to and I can play just as hard.”

The lads fished, rode, hunted small game, and tried various feats of horsemanship, lariat casting, and even – when they were especially energetic, played ball. There was a fairly good team among the ranchmen and they entered into the sport with vim. Only Leslie found the exercise too violent and was content to lounge and watch the rest.

This evening, sitting together so cosily, the peace of the beautiful scene gradually soothed them all to quiet. They had settled the plans for the morrow and were as happy as such care-free children could be. Helena picked up her guitar and played soft melodies upon it, the others humming them under their breaths – not to disturb the player, only Alfy presuming to fit real words to the music but not interfering with it.

Suddenly Dorothy raised her eyes from the playing fountain, on which she had been dreamily gazing and thinking of lost Jim. A sound, faint, of horses’ footfalls had entered her dream. With a silent gesture of alarm she sprang to her feet, staring with wide eyes at a company of Indians ascending the hill. They avoided the hard driveway, their horses treading with velvety softness upon the shaven lawn. They were many in number, twenty perhaps, and they were in gala dress. Head-dresses of eagles’ feathers, gaily colored, hung from their crowns over the sides of their mounts, to the length of a man’s height. They uttered no sounds, looked neither to the right nor left, but like a dreadful, phantom procession moved straight forward toward the fountain.

CHAPTER XV

A TRIP TO BALD EAGLE ROCK

Molly gave one glance and screamed. Then flung herself to her knees and buried her face in Helena’s lap, who pityingly drew her light skirt over the child’s head. Nobody else moved nor spoke. All felt their last hour had come.

“An Indian raid!”

This was their thought and then of their helplessness. This company was only the forerunner of more!

“Massacre! Oh! to die like this!”

Even the lads’ faces blanched, but resolution flashed from their observant eyes, and these beheld a strange spectacle.

The superbly mounted Indians, in their gaudiest attire, bead-decked shirts and fringed leggings, their supple feet clad in embroidered moccasins, outshone even the most magnificent of “Wild West” shows; and without a spoken word each understood the desire of their Chief. They rode to the semi-circle of concrete before the main entrance to the great house and ranged themselves around it, the Chief in front, alone, and as the last hoof fell into position where the rider wished, they became as rigid as a company of warriors carved in stone.

“What will they do next!” was the wonder in all the observers’ minds, as they gazed in fascination at this curious sight.

What they would do next seemed long in coming. Though it was but a few moments it seemed like ages while the redskins waited, stolid, immovable before the doorway of the mansion. But, at last, the spell was broken.

Across from the Barracks, around the corner, through the cloistered walk, came Captain Lemuel, whistling. He was in good spirits; ready to join his “Squad” beside the fountain and have an evening’s “gabble” with the youngsters. They had been abnormally good that day. Wholly obedient to his restrictions in the length of their rides, eager to improve in their shooting – which was so far removed from “sharp”; and in every respect so “decent” that he puzzled his brain to find the best story to tell them of old days in Colorado and of his own prowess therein.

But, as he passed the corner, his whistling ceased. The story was told! And a far better one than any his memory could furnish.

The young watchers caught their breath. Poor Captain Lem! Rushing thus to his own undoing! But still they had to gaze and gaze – they could not turn their eyes away; and gazing they beheld a stranger thing than any which had gone before.

That was the jolly Captain clapping his hands as if in glee, bowing before the silent Chief, almost prostrating himself, in fact. Afterward a brief clasping of hands between the two and the Captain beginning a long harangue in a strange tongue, interrupted now and then by grunts and gutturals from the attentive Indians. Then giving the Chief his finest military salute, the Captain “right faced” and silently marched away. The Indians as silently followed him, the Chief first, and the others in single file, till they all disappeared toward the Barracks, and the youngsters were left gasping in amazement.