Jessica, the Heiress

“She is quick to understand,” said the mother, proudly.

“Course. Nothin’ strange, is it, seeing who her folks was? Best go take a nap, honey.”

“Oh, no! Thank you for suggesting it, but I’m too wakeful.”

“Well, then, I’ll fetch them kerns and citron right out here on the kitchen porch. The sun’s off it now, and there ain’t a prettier spot on earth where to prepare Christmas fixin’s. I’ll fetch the raisins and stone ’em myself. That Pasky boy’d eat more’n half of ’em, if I left ’em to him. Then we can visit right sociable; and I can free my mind. The truth is, Gabriella Trent, that I ought to be harnessin’ Rosetty an’ Balaam this minute, and be startin’ for ‘Boston.’”

“Oh, Aunt Sally!” protested the ranch mistress, in real distress.

“There, dearie, hush! Don’t worry. I said ‘I ought,’ I didn’t say I was goin’. Seem’s if I couldn’t just tear myself away from Sobrante. If Sarah Ma’sh, she that was a Harrison, and married Methuel, hasn’t got gumption enough to bile her own plum puddin’, I ’most feel as if she’d ought to go without. Though I don’t know as that’s real Christian in me.”

“Dear Mrs. Benton, I wish everybody was as sincere a Christian as you are.”

In her surprise, Aunt Sally tipped her rocker so far back that she just escaped upset.

“Why, Gabriella Trent! Me! Me! Don’t say that, and make me feel meaner’n dirt. It’s you, honey, is that–”

Mrs. Trent laughed as she answered:

“We make a mutual admiration society, don’t we? But Aunt Sally, you mustn’t think of leaving Sobrante before the holidays are past. I can’t spare you. I need the help of your head, as well as your hands, and what would Christmas be to the children, if you weren’t here to cuddle and scold them after their greediness has made them ill.”

“Well, well, child, say no more. Here I am, and here I’ll stay, if Sarah Ma’sh don’t get a stiver of pudding or fowl. Here, honey, I reckon you best slice this citron. You’ve got a dainty hand for such work and–my sake’s alive! That fruit cake’d ought to been made weeks ago, if it was to get any sort of ripeness into it before it was et! Hurry up, do. We haven’t a minute to waste.”

This adjuration had the good result of amusing Mrs. Trent so that, for an hour at least, she forgot to be anxious over her daughter’s unexplained absence. Aunt Sally was a person who was always “driven to death” by the mere thought of tasks for which there was, in reality, ample time. But now that she had decided to remain at the ranch for a further indefinite stay, her spirits rose and her brain busied itself with a thousand plans for the comfort or amusement of the household, over which she domineered, yet so ardently loved.

“We haven’t got much money for presents, I know. So I’ll just get out the piece-bag to-night, and press off them canton flannel scraps. They’ll make splended ducks for the youngsters–”

“I fear that would be wasted labor, friend. The little lads have outgrown homemade toys. Nothin that will not make a noise is acceptable to them. I’d thought of sending over to Marion for drums and whistles, if the stores there can furnish them.”

“Well, Gabriella Trent! I declare you are the benightenest woman that ever set out to raise children! Drums! For them two? My, my! But what won’t a mother do for her little ones, I’d like to know!”

The words were no sooner out of Mrs. Benton’s mouth than she regretted them. At the name of “mother” Mrs. Trent’s forced gayety vanished, and she lifted her eyes to her companion’s face with a pitiful appeal.

“Aunt Sally, what has happened to Jessica?”

“Nothing, honey. Nothing in the world. What a master hand you are to worry.”

The lady rose so hastily that the dish upon her lap slid to the floor, and the other laughed:

“There, Gabriel, you do beat all. If I’d dropped that dish ’twould have upset, and every slice of citron in it rolled whithrety-yonder. But for you–it knew better; just slipped off as slick as could be, landed right side up, and not a morsel scattered. Seem’s if dirt nor nothin’ disorderly ever could come a-nigh you, honey.”

Mrs. Trent did not even hear. Upon her face had grown a look that hurt Aunt Sally to see; the more because the feeling it expressed was continually increasing within her own heart.

Where could Jessica be? Many hours had passed since she vanished from the laundry window, and if she had gone upon any errand for her “boys,” she would have returned long since. Also, she would be swift to restore the missing clothes of the little boys, as soon as found, for she knew they would be prisoners within doors till she had done so.

“Don’t you worry, I tell you, Gabriella. I’ll take the great horn and blow a blast will fetch the whole kerboodle back here, hot foot. If that don’t, I’ll ring the mission bell! That’ll mean trouble, sure enough, and its dreadful racket’ll reach clear to Los Angeles, ’pears.”

The mother crossed to the lattice and leaned against its post. Something was wrong with her darling. She knew that as well as if she had been told so by word of mouth, and a dreadful numbness stole over her whole frame. As if in a dream, she saw Aunt Sally emerge from the lean-to, where the great horn was kept, and raised the thing to her lips; but the blast which followed seemed to have been ringing in her ears forever. The silence that succeeded lasted but a moment, yet was like an eternity. Then from one direction, and another, came the ranchmen, understanding that there was need of their presence at the “house,” and each quickly catching something of the fear so plainly depicted upon the faces of the waiting women.

“John Benton, where’s ‘Lady Jess’?” demanded Aunt Sally, with terrible sternness.

“Why, mother, how should I know? I was off to the lemon house early, fixing some shelves. I haven’t seen her to-day and it makes it a long one.”

Came “Marty” from his garden, a hoe over one shoulder and a mighty vine of ripened tomatoes over the other, exclaiming:

“How’s this for a second year’s growth? I thought you’d like ’em for catsup, Aunt Sally, and what’s the horn for?”

“George Ceomarty, where’s the ‘captain’?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t! You don’t!” indignantly.

“No. How should I? Last I saw, she was sitting the porch along with you. You needn’t glare at me so, but say yourself: ‘Where’s the “captain”?’”

“Come, gardener, this ain’t a time for foolin’.”

He disdained to answer, reading the anxiety upon his mistress’ face, and feeling an unaccountable one growing in his own mind.

It was a relief to all when the figure of Sailor Samson came into view, making for the cottage with those firm strides of his, that seemed to cover the distance with incredible speed. He was always to be depended upon in an emergency, and there was good cheer in his tones, as, having been asked the same question which had greeted his mates, he tossed back the light answer:

“Why, I don’t know just at this minute, but I’ll wager wherever she is, she’s doing good to somebody, or finishing up some fellow’s neglected job. Why? Ain’t scared of ‘Lady Jess,’ are you?”

“That’s just what we are, herder. She’s no hand to run off an’ stay off without tellin’ where to; and if she couldn’t find the children’s clothes she’d been back before now to say so. Somethin’ dreadful has happened to the precious girl, and you needn’t say there hasn’t!” wailed Mrs. Benton; adding in fresh dismay as the ranch mistress quietly sank to the floor in a faint! “There! Now I have done it! Oh! that tongue of mine!”

“Yes, old woman! That tongue of yours’ has wrought a heap of mischief in its day,” cried Samson, angrily, as he lifted the fallen lady and carried her into the house.

But Aunt Sally was quite herself again, and put him coolly aside, while she ministered to the unconscious ranch mistress, and, at the same time, gave him a succinct history of the morning’s events. Everybody at Sobrante knew the deep devotion of Lady Jess to her widowed mother, and the thoughtfulness with which she always sought to prevent her loved one’s “worrying,” and all realized that there might be something seriously amiss in this protracted, unexplained absence. However, and to a certain degree, the child was allowed to be independent, and she was liable to reappear at any moment and to gibe at their “foolish fear” for her. But to summon her, at once, was the surest way of comforting Mrs. Trent, and Samson went out again to distribute the assembled ranchmen into searching parties, with the injunction:

“Don’t scare the ‘captain’ when you find her, but just let her know her mother needs her, and her dinner’s drying up in the oven. Now scatter; and don’t you show a face back here without her in hand!”

“Can’t all of us find her, herder. Ain’t ‘captains’ enough to go ’round,” said a cowboy, with an ill-attempt at playfulness, which was instantly frowned down. For, though all assured themselves that there was no substantial cause for alarm, and that women were “nervous cattle, always scared at shadders,” they had already caught something of this nervousness. Each felt that the best sight for his eyes at that moment would be the gleam of a golden head, and the sweetest music his ears could hear the sound of a young girl’s laughter.

But, alas! Daylight gave place to the sudden night of that region, where no lingering twilight is known; and still over the great ranch there rested the terrible silence which had followed the loss of one merry voice.

CHAPTER III.

OLD CENTURY TAKES THE TRAIL

The clatter of horse’s hoofs on the dry sward made Pedro, the shepherd, lift his eyes from his basket weaving, but only for an instant. The sight of Samson, the herder, mounted upon the fleetest animal of the Sobrante stables, was nothing compared to the working out of the intricate pattern he had set himself to follow. Even the centenarian, dwelling in his lofty solitude, knew that there was approaching the blessed Navidad, whereon all good Christians exchanged gifts, in memory of the great gift the Son of God; and what could he do but put forth his utmost ingenuity to please his heart’s dearest, even Jessica of the sunny face?

Like Aunt Sally, at the ranch, he had, at last, caught a feeling of haste and wished not to be disturbed; so he did not even look up again when he was accosted.

“Hello, old man! Hard at it, still?”

No reply forthcoming, Samson shouted, as if the shepherd were deaf:

“Where’s Capt. Jess, abuleo (grandfather)?”