The Ranch Girls at Rainbow Lodge

by Margaret Vandercook

  CHAPTER V.

  SEEKING ADVICE.

  JEAN giggled. Frank Kent and Jack were so funny. They both turned andglared at her with reproachful eyes.

  "I hope you don't think I have intruded," Frank protested hotly.

  "Oh, no, certainly not," Jack answered with frozen politeness. "That is,at least,--I don't understand."

  The scene was enough to have bewildered almost anybody. The quiet roomwhere Jack had left the Indian girl half unconscious and guarded only bytranquil Frieda, was now in a state of suppressed excitement.

  Olilie lay back in her chair with the same expression on her face thatshe had worn on the day she was discovered. Aunt Ellen had her eyesrolled back so that only the whites were showing. Frieda was bouncing upand down, she was so agitated, and Jean looked as though she had beenthrough the war. And in the midst of the family group stood the strangeyoung fellow whom Jacqueline had met on the Norton ranch and mostcordially requested not to make their acquaintance.

  Frieda rushed into the breach. "Oh, Jack, the most awfullest thingalmost happened!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands and forgetting hergrammar in her hurry. "That dreadful old Indian woman and a boy camehere and tried to drag Olilie away. I hollered and hollered out thewindow for Jim or you or anybody to come drive them off, and he came,"Frieda bobbed her head at their visitor.

  She was so excited that Jean and Jack laughed. But Frank Kent did notsmile the least bit. You see he was English and English people don't seejokes quickly. Besides, he was angry at Jack's first suspicion of him.He guessed by her high and mighty manner that she thought he had come tothe ranch against her wishes.

  He looked so stiff and unfriendly that Jacqueline did not know what tosay first.

  "Your cousin will tell you how I happened to be near," he said icily,backing out the door.

  Jack rushed after him, nearly tripping over the spurs on her ridingboots. "Please don't go quite yet," she begged. "At least let me thankyou for whatever you did." Jack had a way of smiling suddenly thatchanged her whole expression, and made people forgive her almostanything. "Won't you please come into the living-room and one of youtell me calmly exactly what has happened, or I shall simply die ofcuriosity."

  Jack led the way into the big, sunlit room, followed by Jean and moreslowly by Frank Kent.

  "O! dear here's a kettle of fish," Jack sighed, when Jean finished herstory. She didn't think of her slang till she saw Frank's puzzledexpression, then she blushed. "I am afraid we can't keep this littleIndian girl at the ranch, Jean, if her own people will have her," Jackwent on. "You see I had a long talk with Jim this morning. He says wemust not make the Indians in the neighborhood angry with us. They willsay we kidnapped the girl, or something horrid. And we have troublesenough without that." A second after Jack was ashamed of having spokenof their difficulties before a perfect stranger.

  To tell the truth affairs were not going very well at Rainbow Ranch.The big creek which ran along through Rainbow Valley for nearly a mileand supplied their ranch with water was almost dry in the middle ofOctober. There might soon be nothing for the cattle and horses to drinkuntil the winter snows fell. Jim had confided to Jack that he suspectedsome one was draining their creek by digging a channel for the waterlower down the valley. He could not find out, but if it were true, itmeant ruin for the ranch girls! There was another, even more seriousdifficulty, that might be in store for them, but of this the girls wouldnot speak.

  "Has anything happened, Jack?" Jean asked hurriedly.

  Jack shook her head. "Nothing unusual," she replied. "Only I shall feeldreadfully sorry if we have to send the Indian girl back to her people.You and Frieda must not think I am hateful if we find we have to."

  Frank Kent forgot his English shyness.

  "You girls are just bully to be fighting this strange girl's battles,"he broke in. "I wonder if you wouldn't let me help you! I believe thereis something queer about her parentage anyhow. Even an English dufferlike I am, can tell by looking at her that she isn't a full-bloodedIndian."

  Frank's face turned red as a beet and he stammered hurriedly. "Of courseif you let me help you in this, we need not know each other afterwards."

  Jacqueline was as fiery red as her guest and Jean giggled again.

  "We couldn't be as horrid as all that," Jack declared in astraightforward fashion, exactly like another boy would have done. "Wewould not make use of you and then cut you afterwards. And please don'tbe angry with us, if I tell you again, that we simply can't be anythingbut just acquaintances with the Nortons' relatives or friends. Youunderstand, don't you?" Jack held out her hand as though she did notknow just what to do or say. Jean wouldn't utter a word to help her.

  Frank Kent shook Jack's hand warmly and this time he did not seemoffended.

  "All right," he answered sadly. "But if there is ever anything I can doto help you, I am going to do it, whether we are friends or not."

  And though Jack and Jean did not see how this strange fellow could everbe mixed up in their affairs, they were comforted somehow by what hepromised.

  "I am going over to Mrs. Simpson's this afternoon, Jean," Jack announceda few minutes after their guest's departure. "I know people say that weranch girls never take anybody's advice, but just the same I am going toask Mrs. Simpson what we had better do about this Indian child. Will youcome along?"

  Mrs. Simpson, the ranch girls' most intimate friend, and her husbandwere the wealthiest ranch owners in that part of Wyoming. She was atypical Western woman, with a big heart and a sharp tongue. She used tolecture the girls and at the same time was awfully proud of theircourage and independence.

  "I'm game, Jack," Jean agreed, "but I haven't any proper riding habit. Iwouldn't mind a bit if that wretched niece of Mrs. Simpson's wasn'tthere. I wish you had seen how she stared at me the other day when Icalled Mrs. Simpson, Aunt Sallie, as though we hadn't called her Auntall the days of our youth. Do you think Aunt Ellen could mend this forme before we go?" Jean held up a green broadcloth riding habit verymuch the worse for wear, with a long ugly rent in it.

  "You need a new habit dreadfully, Jean," Jack declared. "I am afraid wehaven't any really proper clothes. The worst of it is, I don't know justwhat we ought to have or where to get them. I wonder if we are too muchlike boys?"

  "What's the odds, Jack, so long as we are happy," Jean sang outcheerfully. "Besides, Jim says that money hasn't been flowing in toRainbow Ranch any too plentifully lately. It takes pretty much all hecan get hold of to run things, so I thought I wouldn't trouble aboutanother habit. But the idea of that fashionable Miss Laura Post, fromMiss Beatty's school, New York City, staring at me with her china-blueeyes does rattle me. She and her mother treat us exactly as though wewere a Wild West show. Besides it is my unpleasant impression that I hadthis same tear in my skirt when I rode over to Aunt Sallie's the lasttime."

  "Jean, you are lazy; why didn't you mend it yourself?" Jack scolded."You know Aunt Ellen can't sew a bit. Isn't it dreadful that littleFrieda is the only one of us who ever touches a needle and she has noone to show her how to sew, poor baby. Come along, I'll see what I cando with your old skirt. Let's go in the Indian girl's room while I do myworst, best, I mean."

  Olilie had very little to tell her rescuers of her history. She couldnot explain why Laska wanted her to live with her, because she hadalways hated her and been unkind to her. Olilie had but one friend, ateacher in the Indian school in the Indian village in Wind Creek valley.The sick girl did not talk so freely before Jack, as she seemed a littleafraid of her, but she begged the girls to find her a home at one of theranch houses where she might earn her living, for she declared that shewould never go back to the "Crow's nest," as old Laska's hut was called.

  Jack and Jean galloped swiftly over the ten miles that lay between theirranch and the Simpson's. No one could grow tired, no matter how long theride, in this glorious October air in Wyoming, as clear and sparkling ascrystal. The girls forgot their difficulties, also they quite failed toremember the languid young lady
from the East who was Mrs. Simpson'sadored niece.

  A mile from the Simpson ranch house, Jean stood up in her saddle andwaved a challenge to Jack. "Beat you to the veranda!" she called back,loosening the reins on her pony's neck and giving him a light cut withher quirt.

  Jean was off like a shot before Jack could get a start. She reached theporch several yards ahead of her cousin. But Jack was determined not tobe outclassed as a rider. Just in front of the house was a row ofhitching posts about five feet high. "Clear the track," Jack shouted.

  She thrust her feet forward in their long, loose Western stirrups, threwher body back and her pony rose in the air like a bird, straight overthe posts, and she landed at Jean's side with a small Indian war-whoopof triumph.

  A languid clap of hands from the front porch and a horrifiedexclamation, made Jean's cheeks burn and Jack's grey eyes kindle.

  "Buffalo Bill at his best! I congratulate you," a soft voice exclaimed."I wish you had more of an audience."

  Jack laughed lightly. "Oh, we can do ever so much better than that, whenwe try, Miss Post; perhaps if you stay out West for a while we may showyou how to ride. We would be glad to do anything for Aunt Sallie'sguest." Jack's tones were sweetly innocent, but Jean snickered.

  Laura Post bit her lips angrily. "Teach Laura to ride?" her motherprotested indignantly. "Why my daughter has been trained in the best NewYork riding academies. I am afraid they would not care for your Westernriding in Central Park."

  Jean did not see how in the world Jacqueline could appear so undisturbedby the vision of elegance which confronted them. Laura was dressed in asoft cream flannel skirt and coat with a pale blue blouse and wore a bigfelt hat with a blue pompon on it, to shade her delicatepeaches-and-cream skin. Jean felt Laura's eyes fasten on the long rentin her riding skirt, which Jack had mended, with such an expression ofsuperior amusement that she wanted to pull her hair or to scratch her,or to do something else that was violent.

  Laura Post was a very pretty girl, all daintiness and fluffiness. Shehad very light curly hair and blue eyes, and she looked as though shehad never done anything for herself in her life. Her mother was justlike her, only a more faded and dressed-up edition. Jean did not knowwhy they both made her feel so awkward, as though it were dreadfullyinelegant to have one's skin tanned and hair blown by a long, gloriousride across the open country.

  Mrs. Post and Laura would not go when Mrs. Simpson came out and sat downby the ranch girls, holding Jean's hand in one of hers and Jack's in theother, and wondering why Jean, who was her favorite of the three ranchgirls, looked so hot and uncomfortable.

  "The first thing for you to do, Jacqueline Ralston, is to bring thisIndian girl over here for me to take a look at her," Mrs. Simpsonannounced at the end of Jack's story. "I was going to send a note overto you this very afternoon. I want you children to come over to spend afew days with us. I would like Laura to have some real Western partiesand good times, and I think the best way is to have you stay right herewith us. There isn't any other way to manage with you young people sofar from one another, so bring your Indian girl to our house party. Iconfess I am curious to see her."

  "You are awfully good, Mrs. Simpson, but I am afraid we can't come,"Jack answered gratefully. In spite of the fact that Laura and hermother were both staring at her, Jack went on: "You see we have not theright clothes to stay on a house party. I am afraid we don't evenunderstand just what we ought to have. Father did not know much aboutgirls' things and we have never had any one else to tell us, and besidesI don't think your niece would like to have an Indian girl for herguest. Olilie is awfully shy, and I don't expect she would know how tobehave."

  Mrs. Simpson gave Jack a little shake.

  "Nonsense, Jacqueline Ralston, what perfect foolishness you are talking!When did you begin to worry about clothes? You know that you and Jeanare belles wherever you are. As for Laura, I am sure she will be gladenough to have the Indian girl and I'll look after the child. I want tostudy her. If she is a regular Indian, she would probably be hard tomanage."

  Laura shrugged her pretty shoulders. "Oh yes, please do bring the Indianmaiden with you," she remarked with an innocent, babyish expression thatfooled her Aunt but not her visitors. "I am sure the Indian can't be anyqueerer than the other people one meets out West."