CHAPTER IV.
THE RESCUE.
WHEN Olilie, the Indian girl, came back to consciousness, after beingput to bed at the ranch house, three days had passed. She lay betweenbroad sheets smelling of violets and whiter than anything she had everseen, except the new snow on the prairies.
Over in the corner of a big empty room sat a strange little girl. Shewas sewing on some small doll clothes and humming softly to herself. Twobraids like plaited silk of the corn hung over her face. Olilie did notrecall ever having seen her before and had not the faintest idea how shehappened to be in this wonderful place, instead of the dirty hut ofLaska the Indian woman and her son Josef.
Some one else tiptoed softly into the chamber. Olilie half closed hereyes. She remembered this other face faintly, but where and when had sheseen it?
"Hasn't she spoken yet?" a voice asked in a disappointed tone. "I am sosorry, but I simply have to ride over the range with Jim this morning.Some of the cattle keep disappearing. If our patient wants to talk,please don't let her tell you everything before I get back. She must bekept pretty quiet."
Just for a second, Olilie felt that a face bent over hers. But she gaveno sign of being awake, although she now knew where she was and how shehappened to be there. It had flashed across her memory--her flight, herhiding and the meeting with the ranch girls. She understood that she hadbeen ill but was going to get well again. The hot, uncomfortable feelinghad left her head, she had no pain, only she was very weak and she didnot think that she could bear to go away from this beautiful place. Ifonly she could have been ill a little longer!
Olilie's wistful, black eyes were wide open, when the bedroom doorunclosed the second time. She caught a glimpse of a tall, dark figureand a wave of terror swept over her. Already had Laska come to take herhome?
But the woman walked quietly up to the bed, took one of Olilie's thinhands and gazed at it earnestly, turning it over in her own brown palm.She shook her head, smoothed up the covers and nodded to Olilie not totry to talk.
"This girl has been brought up among white people, hasn't she, Frieda?"Aunt Ellen inquired softly.
The blonde plaits moved slightly.
"I am sure I don't know," came a faint voice from between them. "We knownothing about her, except what Jack told you. She did not talk like anIndian, so I suppose she has been to school. Her mother, from whom shewas running away, was a full-blooded Indian but she don't look a bitlike her." Frieda lowered her voice still further. "Has the Indian womanbeen here to inquire for her daughter? Jack was afraid she would findout who we were and come over here."
Aunt Ellen gave her head a warning shake and said something to Friedathat the sick girl on the bed could not hear. But Frieda jumped up andher bits of doll dresses scattered about on the floor. "When will Jackand Jim come back?" she demanded quickly. "If we had only known beforethey went away!"
"Known what?" Olilie asked, as naturally as though she had been takingpart in the conversation all the time. "I am quite well now, thank you.If you don't mind, I should like to get out of bed."
Frieda's face turned quite red and her blue eyes were round withsurprise. She ran to Olilie and threw her arms around her. "You are wellnow, aren't you?" she exclaimed. "I'm so glad. Just wait until I run andfind Jean. She won't like it unless I tell her at once."
"Child," Aunt Ellen queried, as soon as Frieda went away, "is theArapaho woman who makes baskets and strings beads at the end of the WindCreek valley your mother and is the lad Josef her son?"
Olilie nodded. "I think so," she replied. "At least I know of no otherwoman who is my mother. I have lived with her always."
"But you are not a full-blooded Indian girl," Aunt Ellen argued,"although your hair is so black and straight and your skin is dark.Look," Aunt Ellen picked up the girl's hand again. "See, your fingernails are pink and that is not the case with the red or brown-skinnedpeople." Aunt Ellen opened the girl's gown, and where her skin wasuntouched by the sun and wind, it was a beautiful olive color.
Aunt Ellen lifted her up, wrapped her in a blue dressing gown and sather in Frieda's vacant chair. "It's a hard time ahead of you, child,"she murmured to herself. "Mixed blood don't never bring happiness, whenone of 'em runs dark."
Jean's and Frieda's faces both wore strange expressions when they cameback to their guest. But Olilie did not know them well enough to guessthat anything unusual was the matter.
She stretched out both hands humbly and took one of Jean's and one ofFrieda's in her own. "Won't you let me thank you for keeping me here andlet me tell you why I ran away?" she asked gratefully.
Jean shook her head nervously, her brown eyes fastened on thetight-closed door, against which Aunt Ellen stood like a body-guard."No, please don't try to tell us anything now," Jean begged. "I am sureyou are not strong enough. And Jack, she is the oldest of us, she wouldlike you to wait until she comes back this afternoon."
The ranch house was built on one floor. A long hall led straight throughthe centre of it. There were four bedrooms beside the living-room andAunt Ellen's room, which opened off the kitchen. Aunt Ellen and herhusband, Zack, slept on the place and the old man helped Frieda and Jeanwith their violet beds. To-day he had ridden over to the nearest villageto see about the building of the new greenhouses.
A tramp of heavy feet echoed out in the passageway. Jean kept ontalking, as though she wished to drown the sound. The Indian girl didnot seem to be disturbed. She was too happy and too weak to care muchwhat was going on outside her room.
"Don't you think I might tell you my name at least?" she begged. "It isOlilie, an Indian name. I don't know just what it means. I--"
There were no locks on the doors inside the big hospitable ranch house.What need was there of locking people either out or in, in this greatopen western land?
Yet Aunt Ellen kept her hand on the doorknob. "You are not to come inhere," she insisted fiercely. "I told you to leave our ranch."
The door burst rudely open. The squat ugly figure of Laska appearedinside the room, followed by a young Indian boy, who looked sheepish andashamed.
"Ugh," grunted the old squaw. "Did you think we no find you? Come, gitup. You go with me." She pushed aside Frieda and Jean, who were tryingto guard the sick girl.
Olilie's face was so white that no one could have thought her an Indian.She could not speak, she only clutched at the arms of her chair asthough nothing could part her from it.
Jean stamped her foot angrily. "Go out of this house at once," sheordered angrily. "How dare you thrust your way in here? Your daughter istoo ill for you to move her. Besides, we are going to keep her hereuntil we find out whether you were cruel to her and why she won't livewith you."
"No, no, I shall not live with her again," Olilie burst outpassionately. "I do not mind the work or the blows, but I will not be asquaw woman. I will not light the pipe, clean the gun, hew the wood andfetch the water for her son. At the school they have taught me that agirl is a boy's equal. I will not, because I am a girl, be a slave.Please, please go." The Indian girl looked not at her mother, but atJosef, the Indian boy. He kept his head down and mumbled something thatonly Laska and Olilie could understand.
Laska pointed toward the girl. Then her eyes held her son. "Take her tothe tepee of her own people," she commanded. "I know the laws of thewhite race are many and strange, but they take not the child from hermother, while she is yet young."
Josef went toward Olilie, but Jean's body covered her and he did notdare to thrust the white girl aside.
Frieda flung herself half way out the open window. In front of the ranchwas a grove of cottonwood trees, to one side ran a long, winding creek.There was no one in sight, even their watch dog had followed Jack andJim across the range.
Jean was trying bribery and corruption. She had slipped her hand in herpocket and brought out two bright silver dollars. She held one up beforethe boy, the other before old Laska. "I will give you these if you willleave the girl with us for a few days longer," she suggested.
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p; The Indian boy did not lift his hand. He was gazing at the figure of hissister in the chair. "I no take her, she sick," he said. "I no want herto work for me. It is Laska who make her. She not like other Indiangirl. She different somehow. She read books. She talk like teachers atschool."
Laska seized the boy by the arm and shook him roughly. "You no talkfoolish," she declared. "You bring girl home. We take not white money.Always you try to make the Indian sell big things for little."
"Oh, if somebody would only come to help us," Frieda thoughtdespairingly. She saw that Josef had picked Olilie up in his arms. Shefelt like Sister Anne in the dreadful story of Bluebeard. If she couldsee a little cloud of dust arising somewhere down the long road that ledthrough the trees from the far trail of the plains, she knew that helpwould come to them! If only she could catch sight of one of the cowboysreturning to the ranch!
Frieda did spy a little dust along the trail on the upper side of thecreek. She seized a white scarf from the table near by and waved itfrantically out the window. "Help! Help! Jim! Jack! Somebody come quick!We need you!" she cried.
The Indian boy and woman waited, puzzled and alarmed by the noise thatFrieda was making.
Frieda saw a rider catch sight of her signal, plunge down the trail andthrough the muddy creek, straight to the ranch house door. She knew thatit was some one whom she had never seen before in her life, but it didnot make the least difference to her.
"Won't you come in here?" she begged. "The door is open. There are someIndians trying to steal a girl away--" Frieda drew her blonde head backinside the window, just in time to see the stranger stalk into theirroom.
"Put the girl down," he commanded Josef in a tone of authority. Nothingloath, the Indian boy returned Olilie to her chair. The newcomer thenspoke to the surly Indian woman. "You and your son leave this ranch atonce. It was fortunate that I learned that you were coming here thismorning. I rode over just in time."
The young man had brown hair and eyes. His face was quite pale. He didnot look in the least strong, but there was something in his quietmanner that showed he was accustomed to being obeyed.
"We come back to get my girl, when she well," the Indian womanthreatened, as the door closed behind her.
There was an awkward silence when the Indians had gone. The young fellowimmediately lost his grown-up manner and seemed very uncertain and shy.He colored and held his new cowboy hat in his hands.
"I am awfully glad I turned up in time to help you drive those peopleout of the house," he declared. "I happened to hear that they werecoming over to your ranch to take the Indian girl away from you to-day.If there had been anybody to send over to tell you, I wouldn't have comemyself," he ended. "Will you please tell the older Miss Ralston this. Iwon't intrude on you any longer. Good-bye."
Jean laughed and held out her hand. "Please don't go quite yet," shesaid. "At least stay until we thank you. I know who you are and Jackwill be just as grateful to you as Frieda and I are. You must not thinkshe is always so unfriendly. Aren't you Frank Kent, the English fellowwho is the guest of the Nortons? Jack told us about you But you see theNortons are--"
"Yes, I understand," Frank Kent answered quickly. "At least I have beentold what the trouble is between you, but I hope it may be a mistake. Ican't believe Mr. Norton and Dan--" Frank stopped. Jean's and Frieda'scheeks were crimson. He realized that he had no right to talk abouttheir private affairs. Aunt Ellen was looking at him suspiciously.
Frank Kent bowed. "I think I had better go," he announced. Just as hestarted out of the room, Jacqueline Ralston marched into it. Every bitof color left her face and she stared at him in blank astonishment.
The Ranch Girls at Rainbow Lodge Page 4
